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Nannerl had married three years before. Her first lover had relinquished her on account of her poverty, but she had captured a widower of means and position. Mozart's letters to Constanze are not very numerous, because he was away from home neither often nor long. But they make up in tenderness and radiant congeniality what they lack in numbers.
"Very well," answered the father; "you shall see I am grateful for all the love you have showed me tonight, and I will begin to teach Nannerl at once." "I want to learn music too," broke in little Wolfgang, looking at his father with beaming eyes. Every one laughed at this, while the father said baby Wolfgang would have to grow some inches before he could reach the keys.
The brass candlesticks shone like gold, the mahogany table was polished like a mirror, the simple furniture likewise. For today was Father Mozart's birthday and the little household was to celebrate the event. Mother Mozart had been busy all day putting everything in order while Nannerl, the seven year old daughter, had been helping.
And what joy it would be to teach them both. It was a happy household that retired that night. Nannerl was happy because she at last had the chance to take piano lessons. Wolfgang, little "Starbeam," dreamed of the wonderful Goddess of Music, who carried him away to fairyland which was filled with beautiful music.
Betty could likewise talk German with the old Austrian maid, Nannerl, who had followed the family from Vienna; but the accomplishment was not esteemed, and the dialect was barbarous.
My hope was to find her here," and he was choked by a great strangling sob, which his youthful manhood sought to restrain. Betty perceived that he was far from being recovered from the injury he had suffered, and did her best to restrain her own and her father's anxiety till she had persuaded him to swallow some of the excellent coffee which Nannerl always made at sight of a guest.
He sought the different intervals, and when at last he found them, his little face beamed with joy. In a short time he was able to play all the simple exercises that had been given his sister. The parents listened to their wonder-child with ever increasing astonishment, mingled with tears of emotion. It was plain to be seen that Wolfgang must have lessons as well as Nannerl.
For, a week later in a letter to his father, Mozart implies that Constanze and he are once more on excellent terms; also that Nannerl had answered Constanze's letter with appropriate courtesy. Meanwhile, in spite of the excitement of producing his opera and fighting the strong opposition to it, Mozart is still more deeply absorbed in gaining his father's consent to his marriage.
"I hope," said the eldest sister, coming up, "that the little rogue whom I saw peeping from the window has not been troublesome." "He has been as good as gold, madam. He played in master's room till Nannerl called him to his bed, when he went at once, 'true to his orders, says the master. 'A fine soldier he will make, says I to my master."
"I wonder if even a little of my own musical knowledge and love for the art will overflow upon the two dear children," remarked Father Mozart, gazing down tenderly on the little ones. "Why not," answered the mother; "you long ago promised to begin lessons with Nannerl; can she not start this very night?" "Yes, indeed, Papachen, may I not learn to play the piano? I promise to work very hard."
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