All is at an end, for the present, with the Elector.  I went to the court concert the day before yesterday, in the hope of getting an answer.  Count Savioli evidently wished to avoid me; but I went up to him.  When he saw me he shrugged his shoulders.  “What!” said I, “still no answer?” “Pardon me!” said he, “but I grieve to say nothing can be done.”  “Eh, bien!” said I, “the Elector might have told me so sooner!” “True,” said he, “but he would not even now have made up his mind, if I had not driven him to it by saying that you had already stayed here too long, spending your money in a hotel.”  “Truly, that is what vexes me most of all,” I replied; “it is very far from pleasant.  But, at all events, I am very much indebted to you, Count, (for he is not called “your Excellency,”) for having taken my part so zealously, and I beg you will thank the Elector from me for his gracious, though somewhat tardy information; and I can assure him that, had he accepted my services, he never would have had cause to regret it.”  “Oh!” said he, “I feel more convinced of that than perhaps you think.”  When I told Herr Wendling of the final decision, he colored and said, quite indignantly, “Then we must find the means; you must, at least, remain here for the next two months, and after that we can go together to Paris.  To-morrow Cannabich returns from shooting, and then we can talk further on the subject.”  I left the concert immediately, and went straight to Madame Cannabich.  On my way thither, Herr Schatzmeister having come away from the concert with me, I told him all about it, as he is a good worthy man and a kind friend of mine.  You cannot conceive how angry he was.  When we went into Madame Cannabich’s house, he spoke first, saying, “I bring you a man who shares the usual happy fate of those who have to do with courts.”  “What!” said Madame, “so it has all come to nothing?” I told her the whole, and in return they related to me numbers of similar things which had occurred here.  When Madlle.  Rose (who was in the third room from us, busy with the linen) had finished, she came in and said to me, “Do you wish me to begin now?” as it was the hour for her lesson.  “I am at your orders,” said I.  “Do you know,” said she, “that I mean to be very attentive to-day?” “I am sure you will,” answered I, “for the lessons will not continue much longer.”  “How so?  What do you mean?—­Why?” She turned to her mamma, who told her.  “What!” said she, “is this quite certain?  I cannot believe it.”  “Yes—­yes; quite certain,” said I. She then played my sonata, but looked very grave.  Do you know, I really could not suppress my tears; and at last they had all tears in their eyes—­mother, daughter, and Schatzmeister, for she was playing the sonata at the moment, which is the favorite of the whole family.  “Indeed,” said Schatzmeister, “if the Herr Capellmeister (I am never called anything else here) leaves us, it will make us all weep.”  I must say that I have very kind friends here, for