id richer than he had gone away, but with
impoverished confidence in his own powers, and doubting the omnipotence
of Art.

CHAPTER XXII.

Ulrich again stood before the Alcazar, and recalled the hour when, a poor
lad, just escaped from prison, he had been harshly rebuffed by the same
porter, who now humbly saluted the young gentleman attired in costly
velvet.

And yet how gladly he would have crossed this threshold poor as in those
days, but free and with a soul full of enthusiasm and hope; how joyfully
he would have effaced from his life the years that lay between that time
and the present.

He dreaded meeting the Coellos; nothing but honor urged him to present
himself to them.

Yes--and if the old man rejected him?--so much the better!

The old cheerful confusion reigned in the studio. He had a long time to
wait there, and then heard through several doors Senora Petra's scolding
voice and her husband's angry replies.

At last Coello came to him and after greeting him, first formally, then
cordially, and enquiring about his health and experiences, he shrugged
his shoulders, saying:

"My wife does not wish you to see Isabella again before the trial. You
must show what you can do, of course; but I. . . . you look well and
apparently have collected reales. Or is it true," and he moved his hand
as if shaking a dice-box. "He who wins is a good fellow, but we want no
more to do with such people here! You find me the same as of old, and you
have returned at the right time, that is something. De Soto has told me
about your quarrel in Venice. The great masters were pleased with you and
this, you Hotspur, you forfeited! Ferrara for Venice! A poor exchange.
Filippi--understands drawing; but otherwise. . . . Michael Angelo's pupil!
Does he still write on his back? Every monk is God's servant, but in how
few does the Lord dwell! What have you drawn with Sebastiano?"

Ulrich answered these questions in a subdued tone; and Coello listened
with only partial attention, for he heard his wife telling the duenna
Catalina in an adjoining room what she thought of her husband's conduct.
She did so very loudly, for she wished to be overheard by him and Ulrich.
But she was not to obtain her purpose, for Coello suddenly interrupted
the returned travellers story, saying:

"This is getting beyond endurance. If she does her utmost, you shall see
Isabella. A welcome, a grasp of the hand, nothing more. Poor young
lovers! If only it