airs."

At Fuenterrabia, the first Spanish city they reached, the artist
received many honors, and a splendid troop of cavalry escorted him
thence to Madrid.

Moor came as a guest to King Philip's capital for the third time, and
was received there with all the tokens of respect usually paid only to
great noblemen.

His old quarters in the treasury of the Alcazar, the palace of the kings
of Castile, were again assigned to him. They consisted of a studio and
suite of apartments, which by the monarch's special command, had been
fitted up for him with royal magnificence.

Ulrich could not control his amazement. How poor and petty everything
that a short time before, at Castle Rappolstein, had awakened his wonder
and admiration now appeared.

During the first few days the artist's reception-room resembled a
bee-hive; for aristocratic men and women, civil and ecclesiastical
dignitaries passed in and out, pages and lackeys brought flowers,
baskets of fruits, and other gifts. Every one attached to the court knew
in what high favor the artist was held by His Majesty, and therefore
hastened to win his good-will by attentions and presents. Every hour
there was something new and astonishing to be seen, but the artist
himself most awakened the boy's surprise.

The unassuming man, who on the journey had associated as familiarly with
the poor invalids he had picked up by the wayside, the tavern-keepers,
and soldiers of his escort, as if he were one of themselves, now seemed
a very different person. True, he still dressed in black, but instead
of cloth and silk, he wore velvet and satin, while two gold chains
glittered beneath his ruff. He treated the greatest nobles as if he were
doing them a favor by receiving them, and he himself were a person of
unapproachable rank.

On the first day Philip and his queen Isabella of Valois, had sent for
him and adorned him with a costly new chain.

On this occasion Ulrich saw the king. Dressed as a page he followed
Moor, carrying the picture the latter intended for a gift to his royal
host.

At the time of their entrance into the great reception-hall, the monarch
was sitting motionless, gazing into vacancy, as if all the persons
gathered around him had no existence for him. His head was thrown far
back, pressing down the stiff ruff, on which it seemed to rest as if it
were a platter. The fair-haired man's well-cut features wore the rigid,
lifeless expression of a mask. The mouth and nos