Upon the walls of the lonely locked room where he had spent so much of his boyhood, he had hung with his own hands the terrible portrait whose changing features showed him the real degradation of his life, and in front of it had draped the purple-and-gold pall as a curtain.
Bere haurtzaroko ordu mordoa eraman zuen gela itxi, bakarti hartako hormetatik, berak, bere esku propioaz zintzilikatu zuen bere bizitzaren degradazio benetakoa erakusten zuten eite aldakor haiek gordetzen zituen erretratu ikaragarri hura, eta honen aurrean, gortina bat balitz bezala, zabaldu zuen hil-oihal purpura eta urre hura. Ez zen aste osotan han gora batere azalduko;