“Maybe you’re right. But I love art,” a contented Berg replied.

The transaction was executed properly, and a week later the painting was hung in the living room of Berg’s country mansion. For the past five days, the admirer of fine arts spent all of his free time with the painting. He fell in love with the image of the lady, and sometimes he even talked to her. It came to a point where a similar chair and a table with a chessboard were brought to the same living room. All of Berg’s thoughts were devoted to the beautiful lady in the picture.

On the sixth day, Berg returned late to his country house after a hectic day, and sent away all the staff and security guards for the weekend. After dinner, he went to the living room to wish “Good night” to his beloved, as he’d done in the five previous days. He felt a deep melancholy. He did not want to part with her, but kept in mind that according to the contract, the picture should be returned to the owner the following day. The clock struck midnight. He went closer to the picture, and started to examine the very familiar features of the baroness’ beautiful face. All of a sudden, a thud on the windowpane brought him back to reality with a fright. What on earth? Alarmed, he went to the window. Drawing open the blind, Berg saw in the moonlight only dark trunks of trees in the grounds, and a cloudless sky lit with bright stars. Not a soul. Perhaps it was a bird, he assured himself. What a beautiful full moon. There he was standing, admiring the moon and contemplating the night quietness for about five minutes, when suddenly he heard a low, velvet voice from behind his back:

“Would you like a game of chess?”

It was a feminine voice. Inhuman panic and fear gripped Berg. He was too scared to turn around.

“Would you like a game of chess?” the voice insisted.

Berg slowly turned around, and saw the replica chair was occupied by Baroness von N in the same dress from the picture. Smiling, she invited him by pointing to the table with the chessboard. The chess pieces had been placed. Automatically, he glanced at the picture – the chair was empty there. “You have little time. Either you play, or I’m leaving,” the baroness said. Berg was horrified. His heart was beating faster, and his face was sweating. He wiped his face fiercely, and slowly walked over to the couch opposite the chair, sat on the edge of it, and stared at the guest. His trembling hand made the first moves of white pawn from the king one square forward.

Under the terms of the lease agreement, Berg returned the painting to the antique shop on the seventh day. He was also … different