The third is in G-flat major, though it is perhaps better known in the key of G, to which Haslinger took the liberty of transposing it, much to the harm of its effect. It is in the nature of a reverie, akin to the nocturnes of Field in spirit, but far broader in plan and more healthy in sentiment. Something of the airiness of the second impromptu is to be found in the fourth; but here the runs have an harmonic significance rather than a melodic. They are flowing chords, successive light showers of harmonies. The very sameness of the figuration adds to the charm, and does not, it may be added, take away from the difficulty. Only twice is the gentle vibration so produced interrupted for long; once to give way to a short melody, once during the long, impassioned middle-section in C-sharp minor. What stands out in this group of pieces as a whole is the restraint in form, so lacking in the sonatas, and the fineness of pianoforte style. There is a great economy of writing. The piano is left to speak for itself; it is not often taxed to make music grand enough for the orchestra. In the second and fourth of the series an accompaniment is hardly more than suggested, except in the impassioned middle sections; yet the passage work is in no way of the virtuoso type. It has a refinement that is, apart from Bach, Mozart, and Chopin, unusual in pianoforte music. And what is ever worthy of notice in all the work of Schubert is the prevalent _pianissimo_. The spiritual visitor is ever present. One feels that Schubert was wholly lost in his music, that he surrendered himself utterly to the delight of sound, of softest sound. The four works are equally inspired. They are full of ecstasy, full of rapture. The impromptus of the second set are not so invariably fine, yet as a whole they are a momentous contribution. The first and the fourth are longer and more elaborate than any in the first set, and consequently one feels in them the lack of proportion and control which weakened the sonatas. The third is, as a matter of fact, a series of variations; and they can hardly be said to suffer from any weakness. Rather they are exceedingly well done. However, better variations have been written--not, it may be remarked, by Weber--and the form is dangerously likely to prove stupid except in the hands of a man who has a special skill in it. There is necessarily lacking a chance for that spontaneity and freedom which one associates more with Schubert than with any other composer. The last impromptu is conspicuous for a gay brilliance, perhaps a better brilliance than Weber revealed, but a less effective one. It suggests Liszt. Passages remind one of the _Gnomenreigen_. There can be no mistaking the Hungarian quality of the melodies, the mad, rhapsodical, Gypsy style.