Aloysia opened her hands palms up and then reached for an ostrich feather that lay on the table near the bed. “Never mind, I’ll make myself melancholy talking like that. Look, this feather’s going on my blue hat ... everyone in Paris wears them! No, wait, this is important! Tell me about you, Stanzi. There’s something different about you. What is it? Do you have a secret? Are you in love? Yes, you are, look how you blush. Now I’m going to tickle your belly until you tell me.”
They fell together into a heap, Constanze laughing, her dress pulling up over her dark hose as she tried to get away from her sister’s tickling fingers. “Oh stop, stop, Aloysia; there’s no one, I swear.”
Holding her down, Aloysia whispered into her ear, “I know something about you that you don’t. You could be a great flirt if you let yourself, Constanze Weber, and you could, too, Sophie, with all your talk of nunneries. You silly girls, when will you learn? Flirting’s delicious, it’s delicious; you have so much power. Oh, it’s one of the most delicious things.”
A knock sounded at the door, discreet, then sounded once more. “Beloved,” came Lange’s low and reasonable voice, “you have a rehearsal with the musicians in an hour. The clock just struck, and you ought to have a little food before you go.”
Aloysia sat up suddenly. She stood frowning, glancing severely toward her few more common dresses, wondering which one she should wear. The two younger sisters slipped down from the bed, straightening their own dresses and refastening their hair with the pins that had come loose.
“My darling,” came the call again.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” Aloysia flung off the dressing gown and stood in her smock; she sat down on the chair to pull on her hose and fasten them to her garter. From the other room came the sound of things being moved. Smoothing her hose, Aloysia said offhandedly, “And how’s Mama’s boarder, Herr Mozart? I hear he writes and gives lessons and some concerts, yet still can barely make enough to feed himself. A pity. Some people say he’s brilliant, and others that he’s just too proud, that he wants life just as he wants it and won’t have it any other way.”
Sophie nodded, the corners of her mouth drawn down. “He never speaks to us except when he must,” she said uncomfortably. “I wish we were still good friends! Do you ever sing the songs he wrote for you?”
“Yes, I do; they’re beautiful songs. The whole tour he planned! He has a kind heart but little sense. Sophie Weber, are you going to ask me if I regret what I did? Never, not for a moment. Joseph and I are much in love, and we may travel to other countries. Perhaps to Paris for my singing, and he could paint there. His work’s in demand. Did you see the lovely one he’s making of me in the role of Zémire, with the feathers in my hair? Oh girls, did you see it? It’s against the wall.”
She was dressed now, slipping the last of the ivory pins into her hair. They followed her into the small sunny room where her clavier stood and watched as she gathered up her music, trying a scale or two. Her beautiful little voice rang out to the china figurines on the windowsill. When she turned, both younger sisters sensed that she had now entirely left them, that the laughter and tickling might have occurred years ago and not just a few minutes before.
“Don’t let Mama spoil your lives,” she said severely. Then she kissed them on their cheeks, for a moment letting her little hand linger on their arms. “Good-bye, my very dears,” she murmured. “I miss Papa, don’t you? Sometimes I miss him so much I can’t bear it.”
The shop sign dripped water down its painted wood over the words JOHANN AND WENZEL SCHANTZ, MAKERS OF FORTEPIANOS AND CLAVIERS, PURVEYORS OF MUSIC FROM FRANCE, AUSTRIA, AND ITALY. Peering through the rainy windows, Constanze gazed past the instruments to the blurred, well-built man in his leather apron. Then she opened the shop door to the tinkle of the bell, and went inside, shaking off her cloak as best she could.
His voice resonated warm and deep. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Weber.”
She made the smallest curtsey. “Bonjour, Herr Schantz.”
“You come in the rain! I hope all’s well with your family.”
“Oh, all quite well! I’ve come to find the music for