but was speedily
outstripped by the German.

It seemed as if he had been born with the power to use the brush, and
the young girl watched his progress with unfeigned pleasure. When Moor
harshly condemned his drawing, her kind eyes grew dim with tears; if the
master looked at his studies with an approving smile, and showed them
to Sophonisba with words of praise, she was as glad as if they had been
bestowed upon herself.

The Italian came daily to the treasury as usual, to paint, talk or play
chess with Moor; she rejoiced at Ulrich's progress, and gave him many a
useful suggestion.

When the young artist once complained that he had no good models, she
gaily offered to sit to him. This was a new and unexpected piece of
good fortune. Day and night he thought only of Sophonisba. The sittings
began.

The Italian wore a red dress, trimmed with gold embroidery, and a high
white lace ruff, that almost touched her cheeks. Her wavy brown hair
clung closely to the beautiful oval head, its heavy braids covering the
back of the neck; tiny curls fluttered around her ears and harmonized
admirably with the lovely, mischievous expression of the mouth, that won
all hearts. To paint the intelligent brown eyes was no easy matter, and
she requested Ulrich to be careful about her small, rather prominent
chin, which was anything but beautiful, and not make her unusually high,
broad forehead too conspicuous; she had only put on the pearl diadem to
relieve it.

The young artist set about this task with fiery impetuosity, and the
first sketch surpassed all expectations.

Don Fabrizio thought the picture "startlingly" like the original. Moor
was not dissatisfied, but feared that in the execution his pupil's work
would lose the bold freshness, which lent it a certain charm in his
eyes, and was therefore glad when the bell rang, and soon after the king
appeared, to whom he intended to show Ulrich's work.

Philip had not been in the studio for a long time, but the artist had
reason to expect him; for yesterday the monarch must have received his
letter, requesting that he would graciously grant him permission to
leave Madrid.

Moor had remained in Spain long enough, and his wife and child were
urging his return. Yet departure was hard for him on Sophonisba's
account; but precisely because he felt that she was more to him than a
beloved pupil and daughter, he had resolved to hasten his leave-taking.

All present were quickly dismissed, the