If Kochel, who was a very ordinary man, should not keep the secret, what might not Moor suffer from his treachery! The lad was usually no prattler, yet now, merely to boast of his master's familiar intercourse with the king, he had forgotten all caution.
After a restless night, his first thought had been to look at his portrait of Sophonisba.

The picture lured, bewitched, enthralled him with an irresistible spell.
Was this really his work?
He recognized every stroke of the brush.

And yet! Those thoughtful eyes, the light on the lofty brow, the delicate lips, which seemed about parting to utter some wise or witty word--he had not painted them, never, never could he have accomplished such a masterpiece.

He became very anxious.

Had "Fortune," which usually left him in the lurch when creating, aided him on this occasion?
Last evening, before he went to bed, the picture had been very different.