Father Mozart himself had noticed for some time the beauty, clearness, and correctness with which his son was playing, and when their glances met tears of joy and delight were in his eyes. The performance was not interrupted, however. He indicated to Herr Schachtner that he understood, and kept on playing. Wolfgang was doing the same, for he was so completely absorbed in his work that he had not observed the little intermezzo between Herr Schachtner and his father. He bowed and fingered accurately and skilfully, and played all six trios through, keeping up with the others without even a hitch. When the last note was played Father Mozart laid down his viola, joyfully hastened to Wolfgang, took him in his arms, and kissed him. “Why, Wolfgangerl, you marvel, when and where did you learn all this?” he loudly exclaimed. “When you were at church or away from home giving lessons,” replied the boy. “Did I claim too much, father? Now you shall see that I can also play the first violin.” As he had demonstrated his ability by actual test, all were convinced that the seven-year-old little fellow could accomplish even this more difficult task, and they were anxious for him to begin at once. He did so. He played the first violin, with several curious and irregular fingerings, to be sure, but he did not have to stop, and he kept correct time with the other players. All were greatly pleased at the surprise the lad had given them as well as his father by his skill. The latter kissed and caressed him, and the others heartily congratulated him. “Now, Wolfgang,” said his father, when it was quiet, “some request of yours shall be granted. You have given me great pleasure, and I am grateful for it. Have you a wish? If so, mention it, and I will grant it if it is in my power to do so.” “Oh, yes, I have a wish, and a very pleasant one,” said Wolfgang, snuggling up to his father and whispering in his ear. “What is it?” said his father, just as softly. “I should like to make another concert trip, father,” said Wolfgang. “I cannot tell you how eager I am to get out into the great world.” “Good, my child,” replied his father, with a smile of satisfaction; “this is a happy coincidence. We have the same wish, for I have already decided to undertake another trip.” “And where, father?” asked Wolfgang, excitedly. “To Paris!” “To Paris!” shouted the lad. “Oh, that is beautiful, the beautiful thing I have dreamed of so often. Let us go as soon as it is convenient. You may be sure I will do my best when we get to the great city.”