f,
and if you are not a scamp, leave the girl in peace and do not see her
again before your departure. When you have studied in Italy and become a
real artist, the rest will take care of itself. You are already a
handsome, well-formed fellow, and my race will not degenerate in you.
There are very different women in Italy, from this dear little creature
here. Shut your eyes, and beware of breaking her heart. Your promise!
Your hand upon it! In a year and a half from to-day come here again, show
what you can do, and stand the test. If you have become what I hope, I'll
give her to you; if not, you can quietly go your way. You will make no
objection to this, you silly little, love-sick thing. Go to your room
now, Belita, and you, Navarrete, come with me."

Ulrich followed the artist to his chamber, where the latter opened a
chest, in which lay the gold he had earned. He did not know himself, how
much it was, for it was neither counted, nor entered in books. Grasping
the ducats, he gave Ulrich two handfuls, exclaiming:

"This one is for your work here, the other to relieve you from any care
concerning means of living, while pursuing your studies in Venice and
Florence. Don't make the child wretched, my lad; if you do, you will be a
contemptible, dishonorable rascal, a scoundrel, a . . . but you don't look
like a rogue!"

There was a great deal of bustle in Coello's house that evening. The
artist's indolent wife was unusually animated. She could not control her
surprise and wrath. Isabella had been from childhood a great favorite of
Herrera, the first architect in Spain, who had already expressed his love
for the young girl, and now this vagabond pauper, this immature boy, had
come to destroy the prosperity of her child's life.

She upbraided Coello with being faithless to his paternal duty, and
called him a thoughtless booby. Instead of turning the ungrateful rascal
out of the house, he, the dunce, had given him hopes of becoming her
poor, dazzled, innocent daughter's husband. During the ensuing weeks,
Senora Petra prepared Coello many bad days and still worse nights; but
the painter persisted in his resolution to give Isabella to Ulrich, if in
a year and a half he returned from Italy a skilful artist.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Among fools one must be a fool

A WORD, ONLY A WORD

By Georg Ebers

Volume 4.

CHAPTER XXI.

The admiral's ship, which bore King Philip's ambassador to Venic