Before the little door leading into her father’s room she again pressed his hand, and then vanished as swiftly as a shadow.

Ulrich remained alone, pacing slowly up and down before the treasury, for he knew that he had done something very wrong, and did not venture to appear before the artist.

When he entered the dark garden, he had again summoned “fortune” to his aid; but now it would have pleased him better, if it had been less willing to come to his assistance.

Candles were burning in the studio, and Moor sat in his arm-chair, holding—­Ulrich would fain have bidden himself in the earth—­the boy’s Cupid in his hands.

The young culprit wanted to slip past his teacher with a low “good night,” but the latter called him, and pointing to the picture, smilingly asked:  “Did you paint this?”

Ulrich nodded, blushing furiously.

The artist eyed him from top to toe, saying:  “Well, well, it is really very pretty.  I suppose it is time now for us to begin to paint.”

The lad did not know what had happened, for a few weeks before Moor had harshly refused, when he asked the same thing now voluntarily offered.

Scarcely able to control his surprise and joy, he bent over the artist’s hand to kiss it, but the latter withdrew it, gazed steadily into his eyes with paternal affection, and said:  “We will try, my boy, but we must not give up drawing, for that is the father of our art.  Drawing keeps us within the bounds assigned to what is true and beautiful.  The morning you must spend as before; after dinner you shall be rewarded by using colors.”  This plan was followed, and the pupil’s first love affair bore still another fruit—­it gave a different form to his relations with Sanchez.  The feeling that he had stood in his way and abused his confidence sorely disturbed Ulrich, so he did everything in his power to please his companion.

He did not see the fair Carmen again, and in a few weeks the appointment was forgotten, for painting under Moor’s instruction absorbed him as nothing in his life had ever done before, and few things did after.

CHAPTER XVI.

Ulrich was now seventeen, and had been allowed to paint for four months.

Sanchez Coello rarely appeared in the studio, for he had gone to study with the architect, Herrera; Isabella vied with Ulrich, 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.