what of poor little Sophie?” he asked. He wondered if she would ever find out about the young girl being in his room, or if she would believe they had merely laughed, found her spectacles, and talked about God and happiness.
“My mother said you tried to seduce her.”
“I never ... but this is madness also.”
“Of course I don’t believe such a thing; I never could. But I didn’t know where to go, and I felt terrible for the things she said. Oh what does she want of me? How can I go back there? And then suggesting that we ...” She put down the cup of coffee Leutgeb’s wife had brought her and turned to the small stove in the corner, continuing as though Mozart were not there. “Does she think I have no pride? I wore enough of my sisters’ cast-off dresses, and I won’t have her cast-off love. The beauteous Aloysia—you chose her and may have the memory of her!”
“What?” he murmured, astonished. “Are you angry with me now?”
“Yes, I am. I have been for a time because you said—”
“But I beg your forgiveness, dear Constanze. We discussed this when we walked home that day in the rain. You told me you’d forgotten it. I did love her; it was true. I did pay for it. My heart was broken.”
They became suddenly aware that customers had entered the shop and were staring at them. Constanze covered her face and then flung her hands down again. She paced up and down between the shelves, crying, “Where can I stay? What will happen to me? I can’t go back. The things of which she accused me, of which she accused you. Of course everyone has run away but me. I will never never go back there again; I’ll go to Sophie’s convent and ask the good nuns to shelter me.”
“No, dearest,” Mozart said. “No, Constanze, I’ll take you to my friend, the Baroness von Waldstätten. She’ll give you shelter. I’m afraid this terrible thing has made you ill; look how you shiver. Your father would wish me to take care of you. I will take you to my friend.”
“Well,” said the Baroness von Waldstätten, gazing with a majestic smile at the shivering girl when Mozart helped Constanze down from the carriage before the mansion some small distance from central Vienna. “What is needed is a dry dressing gown, a place close to the fire, hot wine, and a little rationality. I place great stock in rationality. Young women are not to be bartered and battered with words, are they?”
Walking so rapidly before them into the great house that they had to hurry to keep up with her, the Baroness waved her hand as if to indicate the agreement of the naked marble muses that stood in separate niches in the round entrance hall. “Especially,” she added archly, “not young Viennese women in these modern times, no indeed. Have not young women hearts and minds of their own? Is this not God’s gift? Come now, come!”
Settled in a large guest room and dressed in a borrowed velvet dressing gown, the coughing Constanze was brought dinner on a beautiful tray, while Mozart and the Baroness gazed at her with concern. When they wished her good night and left her, she buttoned on a nightdress of soft, rich wool trimmed with pink lace, and slid between the sheets of the great bed.
By the light of several burning candles, she looked across the room to the dressing table, then rose to examine the crystal bottles of eau de cologne and the many silver boxes. On one lid were engraved the words: NO GREATER GOOD THAN MAN AND WIFE. Near it a silver frame held a small portrait of the Baron, a rather old man, who gazed back at her with a paternal expression. Whether he had gone to another country and died, or separated from his wife for her rumored infidelities, no one was sure.
Oh, why was she here? Driven, of course, by her mother.
Dear Saints Elizabeth and Anne! How could her mother descend to such behavior after all the years Constanze had defended her and felt she alone understood her, after she vowed to stay with her? And, oh Sophie, would she ever see her again but from behind a convent grille? We’ll always be together, Stanzi.
Constanze stumbled back to the large bed, wound her arms about the huge, cold pillow, and buried her nose in it. She began her evening prayers; in