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.