“I will truthfully confess,” he began, “how I came to have the honor of an acquaintance with this noble house.  I do not play a very dignified role in the tale; in fact, I came within a hair’s breadth of sitting, not here at this bountiful table, but hungry and alone in the most remote dungeon of the palace, watching the spider-webs on the wall.”

“It must, indeed, be a pretty story,” cried Madame Mozart.

Then Mozart related minutely all that we already know, to the great entertainment of his audience.  There was no end to the merriment, even the gentle Eugenie shaking with uncontrollable laughter.

“Well,” he went on, “according to the proverb I need not mind your laughter, for I have made my small profit out of the affair, as you will soon see.  But first hear how it happened that an old fellow could so forget himself.  A reminiscence of my childhood was to blame for it.

“In the spring of 1770, a thirteen-year-old boy, I traveled with my father in Italy.  We went from Rome to Naples, where I had already played twice in the conservatory and several times in other places.

“The nobility and clergy had shown us many attentions, but especially attracted to us was a certain Abbe, who flattered himself that he was a connoisseur, and who, moreover, had some influence at court.  The day before we left he conducted us, with some other acquaintances, into a royal garden, the Villa Reale, situated upon a beautiful street, close to the sea.  A company of Sicilian comedians were performing there—­’Sons of Neptune’ was one of the many names they gave themselves.

“With many distinguished spectators, among whom were the young and lovely Queen Carolina and two princesses, we sat on benches ranged in long rows in a gallery shaded with awnings, while the waves splashed against the wall below.  The many-colored sea reflected the glorious heavens; directly before us rose Vesuvius; on the left gleamed the gentle curve of the shore.

“The first part of the entertainment was rather uninteresting.  A float which lay on the water had served as a stage.  But the second part consisted of rowing, swimming, and diving, and every detail has always remained fresh in my memory.

“From opposite sides of the water two graceful light boats approached each other, bent, as it seemed, upon a pleasure-trip.  The larger one, gorgeously painted, with a gilded prow, was provided with a quarter-deck, and had, besides the rowers’ seats, a slender mast and a sail.  Five youths, ideally handsome, with bared shoulders and limbs, were busy about the boat, or were amusing themselves with a like number of maidens, their sweethearts.  One of these, who was sitting in the centre of the deck twining wreaths of flowers, was noticeable as well for her beauty as for her dress.  The others waited upon her, stretched an awning to shield her from the sun, and passed her flowers from the basket.  One, a flute player, sat at her feet, and accompanied with her clear tones the singing of the others.  The beauty in the centre had her own particular admirer; yet the pair seemed rather indifferent to each other, and I thought the youth almost rude.