But it was not long before he discovered beauty in others than his sister. His young eye caught sight of the _prime donne_ and pretty ballet-dancers of Italy; but, with the fair ones, he had formed a more intimate personal acquaintance in Salzburg, where his sister had friends of her own sex. “I had a great deal to say to my sister, but what I had to say is known only to God and myself,” he wrote from Italy; and shortly after, still more suggestively: “What you have promised me, my dear (---- you know you are my dear one), don’t fail to do, I pray you. I shall surely be obliged to you.” This was during his second journey to Rome, when his short and restful stay in his beautiful home allowed his heart, so to speak, repose, and afforded him leisure to busy himself with other matters than music. “I implore thee, let me know about the other one, _where there is no other one_; you understand me, and I need say no more,” he adds, evidently desiring to cover something up, and what could there be for him to cover up but a tender feeling of the heart? Later he adds: “I hope that you have been to see the young lady; you know which one I mean. I beg of you when you see her to pay her a compliment for me.” There certainly is nothing more easy of explanation than that the young artist was attracted by the fair sex, whose admiration for him was so unbounded. Nothing so charms woman as fame and greatness, especially when fame and greatness have an intellectual foundation; and was not the young _cavaliere filarmonico_ famed beyond all men living? His mere appearance, indeed, made no very powerful impression at the first sight. He was small of stature. According to the account given of himself, in one of his letters, he was “brought up on water.” His head seemed to be too large for his body, the result of an abundance of beautiful flaxen hair; and only his natural ease and grace of movement made him--especially in the costume of the past century--irresistibly charming, an effect which was heightened by the thoughtful expression of his beautiful greyish-blue eyes. But when this excitable young man, in his velvet coat, knee-breeches, silk stockings, buckled shoes, galoon-hat and sword, was thought of as the celebrated _maestro_, whose fame was only beginning; or when he was heard play and seen producing his own compositions, the impression was changed, and the place of mere physical attraction was taken by the unspeakable charm of the mind and heart, by the spell-binding, mysterious force of creative genius. But woman loves the power of genius, and surrenders her entire self to it. A kiss from pretty lips when he had written a new minuet, he considered a beautiful “present,” and kisses do not come singly.