It was a capital painting, by an artist of some note, in an old-masterish style that suited the subject and was reminiscent of much Spanish, Dutch, late Middle Ages work. Little Hans Castorp had often looked at it; not, of course, with any knowledge of art, but with a larger, even a fervid comprehension. Only once⁠—and then only for a moment⁠—had he ever seen Grandfather as he was here represented, on the occasion of a procession to the Rathaus