N. B.—­He is Intendant of Music in the Casino, and the old father a magistrate! but I cared very little about it.  We sat down to dinner; the old gentleman also dined up-stairs with us, and was very civil, but did not say a word about the concert.  After dinner I played two concertos, something out of my head, and then a trio of Hafeneder’s on the violin.  I would gladly have played more, but I was so badly accompanied that it gave me the colic.  He said to me, good-naturedly, “Don’t let us part company to-day; go to the play with us, and return here to supper.”  We were all very merry.  When we came back from the theatre, I played again till we went to supper.  Young Langenmantl had already questioned me in the forenoon about my cross, [Footnote:  Mozart, by his father’s desire, wore the “Order of the Golden Spur,” conferred on him by the Pope.] and I told him exactly how I got it, and what it was.  He and his brother-in-law said over and over again, “Let us order a cross, too, that we may be on a par with Herr Mozart.”  I took no notice of this.  They also repeatedly said, “Hallo! you sir!  Knight of the Spur!” I said not a word; but during supper it became really too bad.  “What may it have cost? three ducats? must you have permission to wear it?  Do you pay extra for leave to do so?  We really must get one just like it.”  An officer there of the name of Bach, said, “For shame! what would you do with the cross?” That young ass, Kurzen Mantl, winked at him, but I saw him, and he knew that I did.  A pause ensued, and then he offered me snuff, saying, “There, show that you don’t care a pinch of snuff for it.”  I still said nothing.  At length he began once more in a sneering tone:  “I may then send to you to-morrow, and you will be so good as to lend me the cross for a few minutes, and I will return it immediately after I have spoken to the goldsmith about it.  I know that when I ask him its value (for he is a queer kind of man) he will say a Bavarian thaler; it can’t be worth more, for it is not gold, only copper, ha! ha!” I said, “By no means—­it is lead, ha! ha!” I was burning with anger and rage.  “I say,” rejoined he, “I suppose I may, if need be, leave out the spur?” “Oh, yes,” said I, “for you have one already in your head; I, too, have one in mine, but of a very different kind, and I should be sorry to exchange mine for yours; so there, take a pinch of snuff on that!” and I offered him snuff.  He became pale with rage, but began again:  “Just now that order looked so well on that grand waistcoat of yours.”  I made no reply, so he called the servant and said “Hallo! you must have greater respect for my brother-in-law and myself when we wear the same cross as Herr Mozart; take a pinch of snuff on that!” I started up; all did the same, and showed great embarrassment.  I took my hat and my sword, and said, “I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you to-morrow.”  “To-morrow I shall not be here.”  “Well, then, the next morning, when I shall still be here.”  “Ho, ho! you surely don’t mean to”—­ “I mean nothing; you are a set of boors, so good-night,” and off I went.