German fiction -- Translations into English; Netherlands -- History -- Eighty Years' War, 1568-1648 -- Fiction
On this occasion Ulrich saw the king. Dressed as a page he followed
Moor, carrying the picture the latter intended for a gift to his royal
host.
At the time of their entrance into the great reception-hall, the monarch
was sitting motionless, gazing into vacancy, as if all the persons
gathered around him had no existence for him. His head was thrown far
back, pressing down the stiff ruff, on which it seemed to rest as if it
were a platter. The fair-haired man’s well-cut features wore the rigid,
lifeless expression of a mask. The mouth and nostrils were slightly
contracted, as if they shrank from breathing the same air with other
human beings.
The monarch’s face remained unmoved, while receiving the Pope’s legates
and the ambassadors from the republic of Venice. When Moor was led
before him, a faint smile was visible beneath the soft, drooping
moustache and close-shaven beard on the cheeks and chin; the prince’s
dull eyes also gained some little animation.
The day after the reception a bell rang in the studio, which was cleared
of all present as quickly as possible, for it announced the approach
of the king, who appeared entirely alone and spent two whole hours with
Moor.
All these marks of distinction might have turned a weaker brain, but
Moor received them calmly, and as soon as he was alone with Ulrich or
Sophonisba, appeared no less unassuming and kindly, than at Emmendingen
and on the journey through France.
A week after taking possession of the apartments in the treasury, the
servants received orders to refuse admittance to every one, without
distinction of rank or person, informing them that the artist was
engaged in working for His Majesty.
Sophonisba Anguisciola was the only person whom Moor never refused to
see. He had greeted the strange girl on his arrival, as a father meets
his child.
Ulrich had been present when the artist gave her his portrait, and saw
her, overwhelmed with joy and gratitude, cover her face with her hands
and burst into loud sobs.
During Moor’s first visit to Madrid, the young girl had come from
Cremona to the king’s court with her father and five sisters, and since
then the task of supporting all six had rested on her shoulders.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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