othing more to do with one another.
Go!"

"Will not your excellency keep the picture?" asked Nietzel, shocked, great
drops of agony standing upon his pale brow. "Will not your excellency
indemnify me for all my labors and expenses, and shall I go from you
with--"

"With the proud consciousness of your virtue," said the count, completing
his sentence for him. "Yes, that you shall, Master Gabriel. You shall bear
in mind that Count von Schwarzenberg would have taken you into his
service, and that you declined it, thereby exciting his wrath a little,
which, as I have been told, has seldom turned to the advantage of those
who have roused it, but always to their injury. However, you care nothing
for that; you defy the wrath of the Stadtholder in the Mark, you--"

"No farther, please, your excellency, no farther!" cried out Gabriel, pale
as death. "Forgive my excitement and my struggles. I pray you to forget my
improper words, and accept me for your humble and obedient servant. You
must do me the favor to keep the Venus of Master Titiano Vecellio, for she
is my only possession, and I have given away my whole property in her
purchase."

"Speak more clearly, master!" cried the count. "You mean to say I must
keep your copy of the Venus, and pay for it as if it were an original one,
for on that you base all your hopes."

"Your excellency!" stammered Master Gabriel in terror, "you do not
suppose--"

"That this painting here is a copy, which you executed, and afterward hung
up a couple of days in the chimney, to give it the appearance of a picture
an hundred years old? Yes, my good man, I do indeed suppose so, and
willingly grant you my testimony to the effect that you have very
faithfully copied Titian, and expended much toil and trouble upon it."

"Most gracious count, I swear to you, that I have been slandered--that--"

"Swear no oath," said the count earnestly and severely. "You did not buy
this picture at Cremona, but copied it in the palace Grimani at Venice,
and worked upon it three whole months. You see I am well informed, and
have my friends everywhere who furnish me with intelligence, and regard it
as an honor to be my--spies, as you would say."

"Mercy, gracious lord, mercy!" cried Nietzel, bursting into tears, and
sinking upon his knees before the proud, lofty form of the count. "Pardon
for my crime, for my presumption! I was in such great want and distress
that I knew not how else to help myself, and I swear t