He began to smile in a twisted way, looking very much the gypsy. “Oh, those Weber girls! Many men about the town know things of them. I’m speaking of the two younger ones. Yes, there’s more to them than meets the eye.”
“I doubt that. I know them well.”
“You don’t know, then? I recall a certain gathering my wife and I had some months ago. The two girls, of course, made no objection to joining in the game of forfeit. Well, who would? There were enough married women here to chaperone, though I was surprised to see the alacrity with which Mademoiselle Constanze lifted her skirt to have her calf measured by that young cellist. Later she drew me down to the shop, and I must tell you, I could have mounted that girl had I had five more minutes. ‘I love you!’ she told me. ‘And I must have you!’ She was all over me. Then several weeks later she sent me a letter; thank God my wife didn’t see it. It said she wanted to run away with me. But this can’t be important to you. It’s Mademoiselle Sophie you intend to marry, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not Sophie.”
“Ah, then, I do beg your pardon. I spoke indiscreetly. Now I’m very sorry indeed. It was only the night and some wine. I wish you all happiness, Herr Mozart. I’ll send the order around to your rooms for you to sign if you wish to purchase one of our instruments.”
“I would sooner play on a piece of lumber than take one of your instruments, Schantz.”
He hardly knew which way he went, and when he came to Petersplatz, he circled round and round like an angry dog. He would have left right away had he not seen Constanze waving at him from a window. Then he had to go up. She was in the parlor mending sheets, and she put them down at once to rush over to him.
He turned his face.
“Good heavens, what is it?” she murmured. Her warm smile faded away.
He told her in a few sharp words what he had learned. “So this is how you behave?” he said. “I have to learn such a thing from a man who is a stranger to me, who must be mocking me.” He began to stride rapidly up and down the room. “You let a man unknown to you measure your leg before others; you went in the darkness with a married man and almost—my God, I’m so sick I can hardly think. My father’s coming in a week. How can I introduce you to him? Have you no respect for your honor and mine? I myself would not have touched your leg in front of others.”
“Of what do you accuse me?” she cried. She was suddenly trembling. “It’s true I let him measure my leg, but my leg didn’t belong to you then; you had no call on my leg or on any other part of me. As far as I knew, you didn’t think of it and hadn’t a right to it anyway. And yes, I went down to the shop with him in the dark.”
“Alone in the dark? Alone in the dark?” Mozart’s voice seemed ready to crack.
“Yes, alone in the dark, and he drew me there himself because he knew I was lonely, and if he says differently, he’s a liar. No, I didn’t confess it; I had no cause to confess it. Why are you fussing so much?”
“Because I must know what part of you he touched.”
Her beautiful dark eyes flashed, and she clenched her small fist. “What does it matter? I was indiscreet ... but why must you question me like this? What haven’t you done? You’re surrounded by pretty singers; my own sister was one. Susceptible to women, that’s what our guardian said about you. How can I know what you do, what you try to cover up by accusing me?” By now Constanze was shouting. He stared at her in horror. In her anger she swept the music to the floor, and the inkwell tipped and spilled its dark rich blue liquid over the carpet. She clasped her hand to her mouth and cried, “Oh, look what you have made me—”
“The letter you sent him asking to run away with him?”
“I never sent any letter, but I wrote one when I was very wretched, before you ever deigned to look at me. Oh God, then Sophie must have sent it! I understand now;