a reproduction of Böcklin's famous picture, 'The Island of the Dead'. It was in a dark polished oak frame and under glass. One corner of the glass had been broken a long time ago and had fallen out, but that corner of the picture had been so walked over by flies that the colour blended with the frame. It was quite impossible to make out what was happening in that corner of the island of the dead.
The owner of the flat was sitting on her bed in the bedroom. She was leaning on a small octagonal table, covered with a dirty, embroidered cloth, and was laying out some cards. The widow Gritsatsuev, wearing a fluffy shawl, was sitting in front of her.
'I must warn you, young woman, that I never take less than fifty copecks for a consultation.'
The widow, who refused to be daunted in her search for anew husband, immediately agreed to pay the fixed price.
'Only, please, also tell me the future,' she said plaintively.
'You're the Queen of Clubs.'
'I've always been the Queen of Hearts,' retorted the widow.
The fortune-teller was indifferent and began to arrange the cards. A few minutes later she told the widow her fate. There were great and small worries ahead. The King of Clubs lay on her heart, but he was friendly with the Queen of Diamonds.
Then she read the client's palm. The lines on the widow's hand were very distinct. Her life line was so long that it curved round as far as the pulse, and if this line spoke the truth then the widow would have to live until the Day of Judgment. The head line and the line of fate gave every promise that the widow would give up the grocery business and would endow humanity with unsurpassable masterpieces in any sphere of art, science, or sociology she might pursue. The mound of Venus was enormous and showed marvellous reserves of love and tenderness.
