Mozart's Sister by Nancy Moser Read Free Book Online Page B

her. "Don't bring Him into this."
    "Then don't exclude Him."
    Suddenly Papa's shoulders dropped. He looked old. "I try ... I
try so hard."
    Mama took him into her arms, and he dropped his head to her
shoulder. She stroked his hair as she often stroked ours. "No one
tries harder, dear one. You are a good man. A good husband. A
good father. But I would like to meet your family. I would like the
children to meet them."

    Papa nodded into her shoulder.
    Wolfie turned to me. "Is Papa crying?"
    Papa immediately stood erect and faced the door, his hands busy
at his face. Mama clapped her hands twice and moved toward the
changing screen. We quickly returned to our dressing. "Come,
come, children," she said. "It's time for bed. We leave tomorrow"
    Good. I wanted away from here. I wanted Papa to be away from
here too.
    Papa put family first-our family. I hoped we would be enough
for him. For it was clear he'd given up everything for us.
    How could I offer him less?

    Although Papa said we'd barely earned enough in Augsburg to
cover our expenses, I was excited because it was in that city that he
bought us a portable clavier from Johann Stein. The instrument
would be handy for practicing during our travels.
    Yet except for that one high point and seeing the beautiful scenery-from the left or right we saw an endless expanse of water,
woods, fields, meadows, gardens, and vineyards, and all these mingled in the most charming fashion-our trip west during the next
few days was tedious. We stopped in Ulm, where Papa spoke out
against the Gothic architecture and the half-timbered houses. He
said they were dreadful, old-fashioned, and tastelessly built. He
much preferred symmetry. I didn't mind the fancy curlicues of the
cathedrals. They reminded me of a land of fantasy. I didn't believe
heaven would be symmetrical and ordered. Nature was too full of
caprice to make heaven anything but.
    I kept my views to myself.
    We were heading to Stuttgart because we had a letter of introduction to Duke Karl Eugene, but at a station where we stopped to
change horses, we discovered he was leaving Stuttgart for his palace
at Ludwigsburg, and from there was going to travel to his hunting
lodge fourteen hours away.
    Papa had no choice but to change direction, and we headed to
Ludwigsburg to try to catch him. But when we arrived, he had already moved on-and worse, had commandeered most of the
horses. Papa spent hours combing the town for steeds.

    The rest of us spent our time at the inn. While Mama rested in
the bed behind us, Wolfie and I dragged two chairs to the window
and marveled at the show being played out on the street below
    There were soldiers everywhere, marching, ever marching.
Before going out to look for the horses, Papa had complained that
when you spit, you spit into an officer's pocket or a soldier's cartridge box. We were told by the innkeeper that there were twelve
to fifteen thousand soldiers in town, yet they really didn't have any
reason for being there. Five months previous, the Seven Years' War
had been declared over. France and our own Maria Theresa had
fought Prussia and England over the eastern land of Silesia-with
Frederick of Prussia getting to keep Silesia in the end. Yet Duke Karl
Eugene didn't care that there wasn't a war going on. He liked having
pretty soldiers around. Papa said they made him feel powerful. Most
had been forced into service through raids of peasant villages and
were hired out as soldiers to foreign states.
    Wherever they came from or wherever they were going, all were
grand.
    Wolfie leaned out the window to see better-too far. I grabbed
a handful of his shirt and pulled him back to safety.
    "They look pretend," he said, totally oblivious to the fact he'd
ever been in danger. "They look like they're about to take their
places in an opera."
    He was right. The soldiers were dressed exactly alike, even down
to their hair, which was powdered white, combed back, and done
up