“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 to you that my copy is so faithful and exact that it can not he distinguished from its original.”

“Well, no matter; we shall hang it up as an original, and allow it to be inspected by the connoisseurs of the electorate,” said the count, laughing.  “I keep your Titiano Vecellio, Master Nietzel, and consequently pay you three thousand ducats for this excellent original.  That you may see how much in earnest I am I will immediately give you an order upon my treasurer, and you may forthwith receive that sum.”

He approached his writing table, rapidly dashed off a few words upon a strip of paper, and then handed it to the painter.  “There, take it, Master Gabriel Nietzel, and collect your money.”

The painter gave him a long, astonished gaze.  “You forgive me, your excellency,” he said; “you accept my high estimate, although you know that I have cheated you and that this is only a copy?”

“What difference does that make?  The picture is beautiful, and it gives me pleasure to look at it, and that is the only thing, after all, that I can require of a painting.”

Master Nietzel hastily seized the count’s hand, and pressed it to his lips.  “Most gracious sir,” he cried, “you have purchased my Venus with your money, my heart with your magnanimity!  Henceforth I am yours, body and soul, and it is just, as if—­”

“As if you had leagued yourself with the devil, is it not?” laughed the count.

“No, as if I had no longer any other will than yours—­that is what I wished to say, most gracious lord.  Only command me, say what I must do, and it shall be done.”

“You go, then, to Holland, and purchase pictures there for me, and study the Flemish painters?”

“I will go to Holland, your excellency.”

“You will seek to gain access to the Electoral Prince, to acquire influence over him, and to cheer him up a little?”