The influence of this power was again manifested before the family reached Vienna,—this time in an accidental and somewhat amusing manner. Before the passengers were allowed to go into the city their baggage was searched by a custom-house official for articles liable to duty. This occasioned considerable delay as well as vexation. Little Wolfgang was impatient over it, and in his saucy, impetuous manner accosted one of the higher officials, and boldly addressed him. “Dear Sir,” said he, “why do you open the trunks and bags of these people and search them? Don’t you know you are hindering them from going on their way?” “Why, youngster, that is our duty,” replied the official, laughing. “But what are you in search of in our beautiful Kaiser city?” “I? I have come here to play the piano,” said Wolfgang, with an air of importance. “You! You little snip! You play the piano!” said the official. “Much you can do with those little claws! Go ahead, but look out that they don’t laugh at you.” “We will see whether any one dares to laugh at me,” said Wolfgang, angrily. “See, there is our piano which we brought with us from Salzburg, packed in that big box. If it were only open I would soon show you whether I can play the piano or not.” The official was curious to hear him, for the little fellow spoke so confidently that he could hardly doubt him. “Well, we will let you try,” said he, as he ordered a workman to unpack the box. Wolfgang opened the piano, seated himself at it, and played some lively dances with his usual skill. The official opened his eyes in astonishment, and vigorously applauded him. All those in the custom house—officials, passengers, and servants—crowded around Wolfgang, and listened with delight to the melodies which he elicited from the keys with his “little claws.” Then with a smile he stopped and turned to the official. “Now do I know anything about piano playing?” said he, roguishly. “You can laugh at me, sir, if you like.” “No, youngster,” replied the delighted official, as he stroked the boy’s red cheeks; “you are truly a little master musician. Those who hear you will not laugh at you. With thanks to you and your father for your beautiful playing, we will soon discharge you, so that you may go to your hotel and rest.” It was done at once. The official performed his duty in the most courteous and agreeable manner, and Father Mozart and his family were soon comfortably ensconced in their hotel, while the other passengers had to wait in the custom house for their permits. Such was the influence of his great skill. As Amphion, according to the legend, set the rocks to dancing, so little Wolfgang moved the usually flinty heart of the customs official until it became his willing servant. Chapter IV At the Imperial Court