“The other day,” interrupted his wife, “I came across your old pocket-calendar for ’85.  There were three or four special memoranda at the end.  One read:  ’About the middle of October they are to cast the great lions at the imperial brass foundry.’  Another was underlined twice ‘Call on Professor Gottner.’  Who is he?”

“Oh Oh yes, I remember!  That kind old gentleman in the observatory, who invites me there now and then.  I meant, long ago, to take you to see the moon and the man in it.  They have a new telescope, so strong that they can see distinctly mountains and valleys and chasms, and, on the side where the sun does not fall, the shadows of the mountains.  Two years ago I planned to go there!  Shameful!”

“Well, the moon will not run away!”

“But it is so with everything.  It is too hard to think of all that one puts off and loses, not duties to God and to man only, but pure pleasures—­those small innocent pleasures which are within one’s grasp every day!”

Madame Mozart could not or would not turn his thoughts into another channel, and could only agree with him as he went on:  “Have I ever been able to have a whole hour of pleasure with my own children?  Even they can be only half enjoyed!  The boys have one ride on my knee, chase me once around the room, and stop.  I must shake them off and go!  I cannot remember that we have had once a whole day in the country together, at Easter or Whitsuntide, in garden or woods or meadows to grow young again among the children and flowers.  And meanwhile life is gradually slipping and running and rushing away from us!  Dear Lord!  To think of it!”

With such self-reproach began a serious conversation.  How sad that Mozart, passionate as he was, keenly alive to all the beauties of the world, and full of the highest aspirations, never knew peace and contentment, in spite of all that he enjoyed and created in his short life.  The reason is easily found in those weaknesses, apparently unconquerable, which were so large a part of his character.  The man’s needs were many; his fondness for society extraordinarily great.  Honored and sought by all the families of rank, he seldom refused an invitation to a fete or social gathering of any sort.  He had, besides, his own circle of friends whom he entertained of a Sunday evening, and often at dinner at his own well-ordered table.  Occasionally, to the inconvenience of his wife, he would bring in unexpected guests of diverse gifts, any one whom he might happen to meet—­amateurs, fellow-artists, singers, poets.  An idle hanger-on whose only merit lay in his companionable mood or in his jests, was as welcome as a gifted connoisseur or a distinguished musician.  But the greater part of his recreation Mozart sought away from home.  He was to be found almost every afternoon at billiards in the Kaffeehaus, and many an evening at the inn.  He enjoyed both driving and riding, frequented balls and masquerades—­a finished dancer—­and took part in popular celebrations also, masquerading regularly on St. Bridget’s Day as Pierrot.