He grew so pale, and the expression of his
face became so piteously distraught that it was painful to see.
He turned and returned the piece of Bristol board, then rushed
like a madman to his drawing portfolio and turned the whole contents
out, ransacking and scattering over the sand hundreds of sketches
and of loose papers. Evidently failing to find what he was looking
for, he glanced again at his sea-view, and suddenly covering his
face with his hands totally collapsed.
We all remained silent, exchanging glances of wonder and pity, and
heedless of the Takur, who stood on the ferry boat, vainly calling
to us to join him.
"Look here, Y - -!" timidly spoke the kind-hearted colonel, as if
addressing a sick child. "Are you sure you remember drawing this view?"
Mr. Y - did not give any answer, as if gathering strength and thinking
it over. After a few moments he answered in hoarse and tremulous tones:
"Yes, I do remember. Of course I made this sketch, but I made it
from nature. I painted only what I saw. And it is that very
certainty that upsets me so."
"But why should you be upset, my dear fellow?
