ut listening, heard Moor through the open door of the
school-room, represent to her, that it was unwise to reject a suitor like
the baron; he was a noble, high-minded gentleman and his love beyond
question.

Her answer was long in coming; at last she rose, saying in an agitated
voice: "We know each other, Master; I know your kind intentions. And yet,
yet! Let me remain what I am, however insignificant that may be. I like
the baron, but what better gifts can marriage bestow, than I already
possess? My love belongs to Art, and you--you are my friend. . . . My
sisters are my children. Have I not gained the right to call them so? I
shall have no lack of duties towards them, when my father has squandered
his inheritance. My noble queen will provide for my future, and I am
necessary to her. My heart is filled--filled to the brim; I do what I
can, and is it not a beautiful thought, that I am permitted to be
something to those I love? Let me remain your Sophonisba, and a free
artist."

"Yes, yes, yes! Remain what you are, girl!" Moor exclaimed, and then for
a long time silence reigned in the studio.

Even before they could understand each other's language, a friendly
intercourse had existed between Isabella and her German fellow-pupil, for
in leisure moments they had sketched each other more than once.

These pictures caused much laughter and often occasional harmless
scuffles between Ulrich and Sanchez, for the latter liked to lay hands on
these portraits and turn them into hideous caricatures.

Isabella often earned the artist's unqualified praise, Ulrich sometimes
received encouraging, sometimes reproving, and sometimes even harsh
words. The latter Moor always addressed to him in German, but they deeply
wounded the lad, haunting him for days.

The "word" still remained obedient to him. Only in matters relating to
art, the power of "fortune" seemed to fail, and deny its service.

When the painter set him difficult tasks, which he could not readily
accomplish, he called upon the "word;" but the more warmly and fervently
he did so, the more surely he receded instead of advancing. When, on the
contrary, he became angered against "fortune," reproached, rejected it,
and relied wholly on himself, he accomplished the hardest things and won
Moor's praise.

He often thought, that he would gladly resign his untroubled, luxurious
life, and all the other gifts of Fortune, if he could only succeed in
accomplishing what Moor desir