Waving her fan, and tripping over the pavement like a wag-tail, she came directly towards the disputants.
Ulrich recognized her instantly; it was Carmen, the pretty embroiderer of the shell-grotto in the park, now the wife of the new porter, who had obtained his dead predecessor's office, as well as his daughter.
"Carmen!" exclaimed Ulrich, as soon as he saw the pretty little woman, then added confidently.

"This young lady knows me." "I ?" asked the young wife, turning up her pretty little nose, and looking at the tall youth's shabby costume.

"Who are you ?" "Master Moor's pupil, Ulrich Navarrete; don't you remember me ?" "I?
You must be mistaken!" With these words she shut her fan so abruptly, that it snapped loudly, and tripped on.
Ulrich shrugged his shoulders, then turned to the porter more courteously, and this time succeeded in his purpose; for the artist Coello's body-servant came out of the treasury, and willingly announced him to his master, who now, as court-artist, occupied Moor's quarters.
Ulrich followed the friendly Pablo into the palace, where every step he mounted reminded him of his old master and former days.
When he at last stood in the anteroom, and the odor of the fresh oil-colors, which were being ground in an adjoining room, reached his nostrils, he inhaled it no less eagerly than, an hour before, he had breathed the fresh air, of which he had been so long deprived.
What reception could he expect?
The court-artist might easily shrink from coming in contact with the pupil of Moor, who had now lost the sovereign's favor.

Coello was a very different man from the Master, a child of the moment, varying every day.

Sometimes haughty and repellent, on other occasions a gay, merry companion, who had jested with his own children and Ulrich also, as if all were on the same footing.