But Chieppo received his reports; and we know the embassy was a
success--a great success. The debonair Fleming surprised the King by
saying, "Your Majesty, it is like this"--and then with a few bold strokes
drew a picture.

He modestly explained that he was not much of a painter--"merely used a
brush for his own amusement"--and then made a portrait for the Minister
of State that exaggerated all of that man's good points, and ignored all
his failings. There was a cast in the Minister's eye, but Rubens waived
it. The Minister was delighted, and so was the King. He then made a
portrait of the King that was as flattering as portraits should be that
are painted for monarchs.

Among his other accomplishments the Fleming was a skilful horseman; he
rode with such grace and dash that the King took him on his drives,
Rubens riding by the side of the carriage, gaily conversing as they rode.

And so with the aid of his many talents he won the confidence of the King
and Court and was initiated into the inner life of Spanish royalty in a
way that Iberta, the Mantuan Resident, never had been. The King liked
Rubens, and so did the Man behind the Throne.

Mortals do not merely like each other because they like each other; such
a bond is tenuous as a spider's thread. I love you because you love the
things that I love. One woman won my heart by her subtle appreciation of
"The Dipsy Chanty." Men meet on a horse basis, a book basis, a religious
basis, or some other mutual leaning; sometimes we find them uniting on a
mutual dislike for something. For instance, I have a friend to whom I am
bound by the tie of oneness because we dislike olives, and have a mutual
indifference to the pretended claims of the unpronounceable Pole who