other
went to Paris.

He landed there in the very midst of the tempest raging around Gluck.
Paris did not at all please Mozart, and the French people disgusted him.
For this Paris was not entirely to blame, seeing that Mozart had gone
there unwillingly and was parted from his beloved Aloysia. It was in
Paris, too, that his mother died. And now, while he was so deeply
concerned for Aloysia's career and was trying so desperately to secure
her an engagement in Paris, she was blandly forgetting him. Of this,
however, he had no suspicion until he reached Munich, where she, the
star of his heart and of his ambition, was waiting for him.

What the change was that had come over Aloysia it is impossible to tell.
The first thought is that, having risen to prominence by Mozart's
tuition and assistance, she spurned the ladder that had uplifted her.
But Nohl's theory that her head was turned by her admission to the
favour that quickly surrounds the successful prima donna is hardly to be
held, in view of the fact that in rejecting a man of Mozart's prominence
she took the actor Lange, who had little, if any, more prominence. It
was doubtless simply the old story of the one who loves and the other
who lets herself be loved, just to keep up practice, until she learns to
love elsewhere.

When Mozart reached Munich, he was still in mourning for his mother, and
dressed according to the French custom of the time, in red coat with
black buttons. He hurried to meet Aloysia and felt at once the chill of
her jilt. The lips once so warm under his gave him merely the formal
German kiss. She seemed scarcely to recognise the one for whose sake
once she shed so many tears. Whereupon Mozart immediately flung himself
upon the piano stool and sang, in a loud voice, with forced gaiety, "Ich
lass das Maedel gern das mich nicht will,"--which you might translate,
"Gladly I give up the girl that gives up me." It was on Christmas Day
that Mozart had hastened to the presence of his beloved. For the
Christmas gift she gave him back his heart! and right gallantly he took
it. But his gaiety was hollow, and when he went to the house of a friend
he locked himself in a room and wept for days.

Still he continued to live with the Webers and to brave out his despair
before them all. He feared to turn to his father for full sympathy, and
his fears were apparently justified, for his father seemed only to have
answered with rebuking him for his foolish "dreams of p