And now he describes Constance herself. She was not ugly, but then she was far from being beautiful. All her beauty consisted in two small black eyes, and a fine figure. She had no wit, but common sense enough to enable her to fulfill her duties as a wife and mother. That she was not inclined to be lavish in her expenditures, was by no means true; but she was accustomed to being plain; for the mother used the little she had on the other two. She could make all her own things, understood housekeeping, and had the best heart in the world. “I love her,” he says, “and she loves me with all her heart. Tell me now, could I desire a better wife?” The best commentary to these words is furnished by the pieces which were already finished for “Belmonte and Constance,” but above all by the _O wie aengstlich, o wie feurig_,[6] which dates from the summer of 1781, and the aria _Ach ich liebte, war so gluecklich_,[7] the text of which is extant in Constance’s own handwriting. But the painful lot of separation was destined at least to threaten him. First the father, next the daughters’ guardian, then the mother, and lastly his loved one’s own stubborn willfulness--the willfulness of youth--menaced him with the destruction of his happiness. His life’s happiness was indeed at stake here. This is very evident from Mozart’s letters written during this time of trouble; and no one can know Mozart thoroughly who does not follow him through this his heart trial. Turn we now to the artistic results of this new existence in Vienna. Of course much piano and chamber music had been produced. The craving for something new continued great in all Viennese circles. And who was better prepared to satisfy that craving than Mozart whose fame and even support now depended on the reception he met with in the imperial city? Everything turned on the opera given him to compose, and fortunately its composition was resumed in the following spring, that of 1782. And spite of all the vexation he had to endure from his own father and the mother of his betrothed, he was ready with it, in time. To accomplish his task, he had frequently to write until one o’clock at night and to be up again at six in the morning. And although he could not devote to it all his time, all his strength, all his mind, all the powers of his fancy nor such minute labor as he had to the _Idomeneo_, he was able to tell his father that he felt exceedingly well pleased with his opera. He generally followed only his own feelings, but on this occasion he had as much regard as possible for the taste of the Viennese people; and their taste in such matters inclined to subdued hilarity and to the comic. These therefore, are the prevailing characteristics of the work. Of Belmonte’s _O wie aengstlich_ he writes himself: You can see the trembling, the shaking. You can see how the swelling bosom heaves. It is expressed by a _crescendo_. You can hear the whispering and sobbing