Not far from the bowling-ground, toward the house, was the open shop of the rope-maker.  It was a small room, full to overflowing; for, besides the necessaries of his trade, he had for sale all kinds of dishes and utensils for kitchen, cellar, and farm-oil and wagon grease, also seeds of various kinds, and dill and cheap brandy.  A girl, who had to serve the guests and at the same time attend to the shop, was busy with a countryman, who, leading his little boy by the hand, had just stepped up to make a few purchases—­a measure for fruit, a brush, a whip.  He would choose one article, try it, lay it down, take up a second and a third, and go back, uncertainly, to the first one; he could not decide upon any one.  The girl went off several times to wait on the guests, came back, and with the utmost patience helped him make his choice.

Mozart, on a bench near the alley, saw and heard, with great amusement, all that was going on.  As much as he was interested in the good, sensible girl, with her calm and earnest countenance, he was still more entertained by the countryman who, even after he had gone, left Mozart much to think about.  The master, for the time being, had changed places with him; he felt how important in his eyes was the small transaction, how anxiously and conscientiously the prices, differing only by a few kreutzers, were considered.  “Now,” he thought, “the man will go home to his wife and tell her of his purchases, and the children will all wait until the sack is opened, to see if it holds anything for them; while the good wife will hasten to bring the supper and the mug of fresh home-brewed cider, for which her husband has been keeping his appetite all day.  If only I could be as happy and independent waiting only on Nature, and enjoying her blessings though they be hard to win!  But if my art demands of me a different kind of work, that I would not, after all, exchange for anything in the world, why should I meanwhile remain in circumstances which are just the opposite of such a simple and innocent life?  If I had a little land in a pleasant spot near the village, and a little house, then I could really live.  In the mornings I could work diligently at my scores; all the rest of the time I could spend with my family.  I could plant trees, visit my garden, in the fall gather apples and pears with my boys, now and then take a trip to town for an opera, or have a friend or two with me—­what delight!  Well, who knows what may happen!”

He walked up to the shop, spoke to the girl, and began to examine her stock more closely.  His mind had not quite descended from its idyllic flight, and the clean, smooth, shining wood, with its fresh smell, attracted him.  It suddenly occurred to him that he would pick out several articles for his wife, such as she might need or might like to have.  At his suggestion, Constanze had, a long time ago, rented a little piece of ground outside the Kaernthner Thor, and had raised a few vegetables; so now it seemed