scuffles between Ulrich and Sanchez, for the latter liked to lay hands
on these portraits and turn them into hideous caricatures.

Isabella often earned the artist's unqualified praise, Ulrich sometimes
received encouraging, sometimes reproving, and sometimes even harsh
words. The latter Moor always addressed to him in German, but they
deeply wounded the lad, haunting him for days.

The "word" still remained obedient to him. Only in matters relating to
art, the power of "fortune" seemed to fail, and deny its service.

When the painter set him difficult tasks, which he could not readily
accomplish, he called upon the "word;" but the more warmly and fervently
he did so, the more surely he receded instead of advancing. When, on the
contrary, he became angered against "fortune," reproached, rejected it,
and relied wholly on himself, he accomplished the hardest things and won
Moor's praise.

He often thought, that he would gladly resign his untroubled, luxurious
life, and all the other gifts of Fortune, if he could only succeed in
accomplishing what Moor desired him to attain in art. He knew and felt
that this was the right goal; but one thing was certain, he could never
attain it with pencil and charcoal. What his soul dreamed, what his
mental vision beheld was colored. Drawing, perpetual drawing, became
burdensome, repulsive, hateful; but with palette and brush in his hand he
could not fail to become an artist, perhaps an artist like Titian.

He already used colors in secret; Sanchez Coello had been the cause of
his making the first trial.