This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By Georg Ebers
For the first time in his life Ulrich had witnessed the death of a humanbeing.
How often he had laughed at the fool, or thought his words absurd andwicked;—but the dead man inspired him with respect, and the thought ofthe old jester's corpse exerted a far deeper and more lasting influenceupon him, than his father's supposed death. Hitherto he had only beenable to imagine him as he had looked in life, but now the vision of himstretched at full length, stark and pale like the dead Pellicanus, oftenrose before his mind.
The artist was a silent man, and understood how to think and speak inlines and colors, better than in words. He only became eloquent andanimated, when the conversation turned upon subjects connected with hisart.
At Toulouse he purchased three new horses, and engaged the same number ofFrench servants, then went to a jeweller and bought many articles. Atthe inn he put the chains and rings he had obtained, into pretty littleboxes, and wrote on them in neat Gothic characters with special care:"Helena, Anna, Minerva, Europa and Lucia;" one name on each.
Ulrich watched him and remarked that those were not his children's names.
Moor looked up, and answered smiling: "These are only young artists, sixsisters, each one of whom is as dear to me as if she were my owndaughter. I hope we shall find them in Madrid, one of them, Sophonisba,at any rate."
"But there are only five boxes," observed the boy, "and you haven'twritten Sophonisba on any of them."
"She is to have something better," replied his patron smiling. "Myportrait, which I began to paint yesterday, will be finished here. Handme the mirror, the maul-stick, and the colors."
The picture was a superb likeness, absolutely faultless. The pure browcurved in lofty arches at the temples, the small eyes looked as clear andbright as they did in the mirror, the firm mouth shaded by a thinmoustache, seemed as if it were just parting to utter a friendly word.The close-shaven beard on the cheeks and chin rested closely upon thewhite ruff, which seemed to have just come from under the laundresses'smoothing-iron.
How rapidly and firmly the master guided his brush! And Sophonisba, whomMoor distinguished by such a gift, how was he to imagine her? The otherfive sisters too! For their sakes he first anticipated with pleasure thearrival at Madrid.
In Bayonne the artist left the baggage-wagon behind. His luggage was puton mules, and when the party of travellers started, it formed an imposingcaravan.
Ulrich expressed his surprise at such expenditure, and Moor answeredkindly: "Pellicanus says: 'Among fools one must be a fool.' We enterSpain as the king's guests, and courtiers have weak eyes, and only noticepeople who give themselves airs."
At Fuenterrabia, the first Spanish city they reached, the artist receivedmany honors, and a splendid troop of cavalry escorted him thence toMadrid.
Moor came as a guest to King Philip's capital for the third time, and wasreceived there with all the tokens of respect usually paid only to greatnoblemen.
His old quarters in the