164 PAITH UMTO DEATff. 



in the angles of the room, and cushions of velvet were piled round 

 the walls j octangular tables of porphyry and mother-of-pearl, 

 laden with delicious wines and confections, stood at given inter- 

 vals J and bouquets of the most gorgeous diversity of hue, 

 clustered in vases of lapis lazuH, bloomed around in profusion. 

 The ceiling was painted with arabesque wreaths of flowers and 

 foliage, interspersed with birds, and insects and animals j and, 

 suspended by light chains from the roof, hung glittering cages of 

 gold, in which prisoned nightingales warbled the most entrancing 

 melodies, or the brilliant lories of India unfolded their magnificent 

 plumes. The light received into this fairy retreat, stole softened 

 through the medium of pale rose-coloured gauze, and with its 

 delicate reflections heightened the luxurious character of the 

 place. Oppressed with the odoriferous atmosphere, and stricken 

 with amazement at the transformation effected, Van Schooreel 

 paused on the threshold j a young man, pale and emaciated, 

 extravagantly attired in the tnode, and reeking with perfume, 

 arose from a seat, and in tones scarcely articulate from affectation, 

 entreated his business. " I would commune with the Master 

 Cornelitz," answered Schooreel ; " My name is Cornelitz," said 

 the fopling, bending with studious elegance as he spoke, and 

 laying his hand on his heart. " Cornelitz ! impossible ! " repeated 

 Schooreel, gazing on the popinjay with infinite contempt, " I 

 •would speak with Cornelitz the painter — the venerable man whose 

 dwelling was once on this spot, and whose works are known to 

 all Europe." " Cornelitz the painter ! — venerable man ! — mine 

 own name, but not the description, i'faith !" drawled out the 

 dandy, simpering conceitedly as he spoke, and surveying himself 

 admiringly in a mirror that lined the opposite wall. " Canst thou 

 make known my arrival ?" eagerly demanded the artist — '' Prithee 

 signify to the revered Cornelitz that a stranger waiteth for an 

 interview." " Of a verity, my friend," replied the youth, " 1 reck 

 not aught of the worthy limner thou seekest j the poor house that 

 thou honorest is mine own humble dwelling — thou wilt pardon its 

 rudeness, seeing that it is yet scarcely completed ; artificers are 

 somewhat wilful and snail-paced, three years have I been here a 

 sufferer from want of common conveniences, yet is it, as thou 

 seest, the cell of an anchoret, at best/' and the voice of the 

 coxcomb languished into tones of piteous distress. Schoordei 

 could abide no more j disgust and suspense took possession of his 

 breast, and with an abrupt apology he withdrew. 



Once more in the street^ the artist wended from house to house 

 in inquiry ; strange faces alone gazed on him j every one could tell 

 of Cornelitz, from Bruges, the diamond-merchant's heir, but none 

 knew of Cornelitz the painter ; all assumed an air of recollection — • 

 old men put on their spectacles and scrutinized his features and 

 habit, then muttered the name over slowly, stroked their beards, 

 shook their heads, and concluded by professing their utter igno- 

 rance of the party. *' Miraculous !" mentally ejaculated Van 

 Schooreel ; " eight years only gone by, yet the whole place changed 



