CHAPTER XIX.

Half an hour before midnight Moor entered the calash, and Ulrich
Navarrete mounted the white Andalusian.

The artist, deeply agitated, had already taken leave of his protege in
the studio, had given him a purse of gold for his travelling-expenses and
any other wants, and told him that he would always find with him in
Flanders a home, a father, love, and instruction in his art.

The painter alighted before Don Fabrizio's palace; a short time after
Ulrich noisily drew the leather curtain before the partition of the
calash, and then called to the coachman, who had often driven Moor when
he was unexpectedly summoned to one of the king's pleasure-palaces at
night: "Go ahead!"

They were stopped at the gate, but the guards knew the favorite's calash
and fair-haired pupil, and granted the latter the escort he asked for his
master. So they went forward; at first rapidly, then at a pace easy for
the horses. He told the coachman that Moor had alighted at the second
station, and would ride with His Majesty to Avila, where he wished to
find the carriage.

During the whole way, Ulrich thought little of himself, and all the more
of the master. If the pursuers had set out the morning after the
departure, and followed him instead of Don Fabrizio's party, Moor might