pay the father a thousand florins a year for the lad's services as an
illustrator. The father accepted the proposition; and the next day
brought around another Harmenszoon, who he declared was just as good. But
the bookmaker was stubborn and insisted on having a certain one or none.
So the bargain fell through.

It was getting near four years since Swanenburch had taken Rembrandt into
his keeping, and now he went to the boy's parents and said: "I have given
all I have to offer to your son. He can do all I can, and more. There is
only one man who can benefit him and that is Pieter Lastman, of
Amsterdam. He must go and study with the great Lastman--I myself will
take him."

Lastman had spent four years in Italy, and had come back full to
overflowing with classic ideas. His family was one of the most
aristocratic in Amsterdam, and whatever he said concerning art was quoted
as final. He was the court of last appeal. His rooms were filled with
classic fragments, and on his public days visitors flocked to hear what
he might have to say about the wonders of Venice, Florence and Rome. For
in those days men seldom traveled out of their own countries, and those
who did had strange tales to tell the eager listeners when they returned.

Lastman was handsome, dashing, popular. His pictures were in demand,
principally because they were Lastman's. Proud ladies came from afar and
begged the privilege of sitting as his model. In Italy, Lastman had found
that many painters employed 'prentice talent. The great man would sketch
out the pictures, and the boys would fill in the color. Lastman would go
off about his business, and perhaps drop in occasionally during the day
to see how the boys got on, adding a few touches here and there, and
gently rebuking those who showed too much genius. Lastman believed in