“Show His Highness the Landgrave a painting after my fashion.”
“If you are a painter and out of Flanders,” said the captain, “come within, and I will bring you to my master.”
Being come before the landgrave, Ulenspiegel saluted him three times and more.
“May Your Highness,” said he, “deign to excuse my impertinence in daring to come to lay at your noble feet a painting I made for you, wherein I had the honour to pourtray Madame the Virgin in imperial array.”
“This painting,” he went on, “may perhaps be to your liking, and in that case I vaunt myself sufficiently of my skill to hope to raise myself to that fine chair of crimson velvet wherein, during his life, the ever to be lamented painter of Your Magnanimity had place.”
The landgrave having contemplated the picture, which was a beautiful one:
“Thou shalt be our painter,” said he, “take thy seat in the chair.”
And gaily he kissed him on both cheeks. Ulenspiegel sat down.
“Thou art full ragged,” said the landgrave, scrutinizing him.
Ulenspiegel replied: