aiting for him, to repeat to him the high praise he had
heard bestowed upon his art-test at Titian's; but Ulrich heard nothing,
for he gave the secretary no time to speak, and the latter could only
echo the beautiful Claudia's "go, go!" and then smooth the way for his
flight.

When the morning of Ash-Wednesday dawned cool and misty, Venice
lay behind the young artist. Unpursued, but without finding rest or
satisfaction, he went to Parma, Bologna, Pisa, Florence.

Grimani's death burdened his conscience but lightly. Duelling was a
battle in miniature, to kill one's foe no crime, but a victory. Far
different anxieties tortured him.

Venice, whither the "word" had led him, from which he had hoped and
expected everything, was lost to him, and with it Titian's favor and
Cagliari's instruction.

He began to doubt himself, his future, the sublime word and its magic
spell. The greater the works which the traveller's eyes beheld, the more
insignificant he felt, the more pitiful his own powers, his own skill
appeared.

"Draw, draw!" advised every master to whom he applied, as soon as he
had seen his work. The great men, to whom he offered himself as a pupil,
required years of persevering study. But his time was limited, for the
misguided youth's faithful German heart held firmly to one resolve; he
must present himself to Coello at the end of the appointed time. The
happiness of his life was forfeited, but no one should obtain the right
to call him faithless to his word, or a scoundrel.

In Florence he heard Sebastiano Filippi--who had been a pupil of Michael
Angelo-praised as a good drawer; so he sought him in Ferrara and found
him ready to teach him what he still lacked. But the works of the new
master did not please him. The youth, accustomed to Moor's wonderful
clearness, Titian's brilliant hues, found Filippi's pictures indistinct,
as if veiled by grey mists. Yet he forced himself to remain with him for
months, for he was really remarkably skilful in drawing, and his studio
never lacked nude models; he needed them for the preliminary studies for
his "Day of Judgment."

Without satisfaction, without pleasure in the wearisome work, without
love for the sickly master, who held aloof from any social intercourse
with him when the hours of labor were over, he felt discontented, bored,
disenchanted.

In the evening he sought diversion at the gaming-table, and fortune
favored him here as it had done in Venice. His purse ove