e the close
attention and kept the perfect silence which were due to such enchanting
playing. Indeed it was not easy to resist a throng of distracting and
wondering thoughts as one watched the composer--his erect, almost stiff
position, his good-natured face, the graceful movements of his small
hands and curved fingers.

Turning to Madame Mozart, as the playing ceased, the Count began: "When
it is necessary to give a compliment to a composer--not everybody's
business--how easy it is for kings and emperors. All words are equally
good and equally extraordinary in their mouths; they dare to say
whatever they please. And how comfortable it must be, for instance, to
sit close behind Herr Mozart's chair, and, at the final chord of a
brilliant Fantasia, to clap the modest and learned man on the shoulder
and say: 'My dear Mozart, you are a Jack-at-all-trades!' And the word goes
like wild-fire through the hall: 'What did he say?' 'He said Mozart was a
Jack-at-all-trades!' and everybody who fiddles or pipes a song or
composes is enraptured over the expression. In short, that is the way of
the great, the familiar manner of the emperors, and quite inimitable. I
have always envied the Friedrichs and the Josefs that faculty, but never
more than now when I quite despair of finding in my mind's pockets the
suitable coin!"

The Count's jest provoked a laugh, as usual, and the guests followed
their hostess toward the dining-hall, where the fragrance of flowers and
refreshingly cool air greeted them. They took their places at the table,
Mozart opposite Eugenie and the Baron. His neighbor on one side was a
little elderly lady, an unmarried aunt of Franziska's; on the other side
was the charming young niece who soon commended herself to him by her
wit and gaiety. Frau Constanze sat between the host and her friendly
guide, the Lieutenant. The lower end of the table was empty. In the
centre stood two large _epergnes_, heaped with fruits and flowers. The
walls were hung with rich festoons, and all the appointments indicated
an extensive banquet. Upon tables and side-boards were the choicest
wines, from the deepest red to the pale yellow, whose sparkling foam
crowns the second half of the feast. For some time the conversation,
carried on from all sides, had been general. But when the Count, who,
from the first, had been hinting at Mozart's adventure in the garden,
came mysteriously nearer and nearer to it, so that some were smiling,
others pu