Naturally every one wished to look at it.
But the Starosta would not let it go out of his hand.
"Ho, ho! Softly, softly! It is only the bridegroom who has the right to look at it."
Then he turned round, knowing that Heinrich was behind him. "Look ye, my son," said he to the doctor, "take this portrait to Casimir, but show it only to him and to none other. You may look at it, too, because you are a doctor. Do you understand physiognomies? Can you say, from looking at this portrait, whether the little Princess is phlegmatic, or choleric, or, which God forbid, of a melancholy temperament?"
Well, this was a great distinction for Heinrich. He took the portrait to Casimir, and showed the portrait to him first of all.
The bride in the portrait was of mythological loveliness. She was painted as Sappho, in a Greek chlamys, with her golden tresses flowing down her shoulders, and her arms bare to the shoulder. The portrait, painted on ivory, was a masterpiece of water-colouring.
Casimir was unable to conceal his enthusiasm at the beauty of his bride. "She is a veritable goddess!" he cried.
"Worthy indeed of adorations!" cried Heinrich, with still greater emphasis.
Nobody else was allowed to look; only they two were so privileged.
But the jester burrowed his way out from beneath the table, and thrust his head between them that he might cast a glance at the portrait.