The lowness of the bids gave courage to the gathering of second-hand booksellers present, who began to mingle with us, and become more familiar. The dealers in old brass and bric-a-brac pressed forward in their tun, waiting for the doors of an adjoining room to be opened; and the voice of the auctioneer was drowned by the jests of the Auvergnats. A magnificent codex of the “Guerre des Juifs” revived attention. It was long disputed for. “Five thousand francs! five thousand!” called the crier, while the bric-a-brac dealers remained silent with admiration. Then seven or eight antiphonaries brought us back again to low prices. A fat old woman, in a loose gown, bareheaded--a dealer in second-hand goods--encouraged by the size of the books and the low prices bidden, had one of the antiphonaries knocked down to her for thirty francs. At last the expert Polizzi announced No. 42: “The ‘Golden Legend’; French MS.; unpublished; two superb miniatures, with a starting bid of three thousand francs.” “Three thousand! three thousand bid!” yelled the crier. “Three thousand!” dryly repeated the auctioneer. There was a buzzing in my head, and, as through a cloud, I saw a host of curious faces all turning towards the manuscript, which a boy was carrying open through the audience. “Three thousand and fifty!” I said. I was frightened by the sound of my own voice, and further confused by seeing, or thinking that I saw, all eyes turned on me. “Three thousand and fifty on the right!” called the crier, taking up my bid. “Three thousand one hundred!” responded Signor Polizzi. Then began a heroic duel between the expert and myself. “Three thousand five hundred!” “Six hundred!” “Seven hundred!” “Four thousand!” “Four thousand five hundred.” Then by a sudden bold stroke, Signor Polizzi raised the bid at once to six thousand. Six thousand francs was all the money I could dispose of. It represented the possible. I risked the impossible. “Six thousand one hundred!” Alas! even the impossible did not suffice. “Six thousand five hundred!” replied Signor Polizzi, with calm. I bowed my head and sat there stupefied, unable to answer either yes or no to the crier, who called to me: “Six thousand five hundred, by me--not by you on the right there!--it is my bid--no mistake! Six thousand five hundred!” “Perfectly understood!” declared the auctioneer. “Six thousand five hundred. Perfectly clear; perfectly plain.... Any more bids? The last bid is six thousand five hundred francs.” A solemn silence prevailed. Suddenly I felt as if my head had burst open. It was the hammer of the officiant, who, with a loud blow on the platform, adjudged No. 42 irrevocably to Signor Polizzi. Forthwith the pen of the clerk, coursing over the papier-timbre, registered that great fact in a single line.