ledge of Spanish. But he soon became familiar with the
language in another way, for one day, as he came out of the stables,
a thin man in black, priestly robes, advanced towards him, looked
searchingly into his face, then greeted him as a countryman, declaring
that it made him happy to speak his dear native tongue again. Finally,
he invited the "artist" to visit him. His name was Magister Kochel and
he lodged with the king's almoner, for whom he was acting as clerk.

The pallid man with the withered face, deep-set eyes and peculiar grin,
which always showed the bluish-red gums above the teeth, did not please
the boy, but the thought of being able to talk in his native language
attracted him, and he went to the German's.

He soon thought that by so doing he was accomplishing something good and
useful, for the former offered to teach him to write and speak Spanish.
Ulrich was glad to have escaped from school, and declined this proposal;
but when the German suggested that he should content himself with
speaking the language, assuring him that it could be accomplished
without any difficulty, Ulrich consented and went daily at twilight to
the Magister.

Instruction began at once and was pleasant enough, for Kochel let him
translate merry tales and love stories from French and Italian books,
which he read aloud in German, never scolded him, and after the first
half-hour always laid the volume aside to talk with him.

Moor thought it commendable and right, for Ulrich to take upon himself
the labor and constraint of studying a language, and promised, when the
lessons were over, to give a fitting payment to the Magister, who seemed
to have scanty means of livelihood.

The master ought to have been well disposed towards worthy Kochel,
for the latter was an enthusiastic admirer of his works. He ranked the
Netherlander above Titian and the other great Italian artists, called
him the worthy friend of gods and kings, and encouraged his pupil to
imitate him.

"Industry, industry!" cried the Magister. "Only by industry is the
summit of wealth and fame gained. To be sure, such success demands
sacrifices. How rarely is the good man permitted to enjoy the blessing
of mass. When did he go to church last?"

Ulrich answered these and similar questions frankly and truthfully,
and when Kochel praised the friendship uniting the artist to the king,
calling them Orestes and Pylades, Ulrich, proud of the honor shown his
master, told him ho