Mozart was evidently surprised. As she finished he went to her with unaffected pleasure. "How can one praise you, dear child," he said. "Such singing is like the sunshine, which praises itself best because it does every one good. It is to the soul like a refreshing bath to a child; he laughs, and wonders, and is content. Not every day, I assure you, do we composers hear ourselves sung with such purity and simplicity--with such perfection!" and he seized her hand and kissed it heartily. Mozart's amiability and kindness, no less than his high appreciation of her talent, touched Eugenie deeply, and her eyes filled with tears of pleasure. At that moment Madame Mozart entered, and immediately after appeared other guests who had been expected--a family of distant relatives, of whom one, Franziska, had been from childhood Eugenie's intimate friend. When all the greetings and congratulations were over, Mozart seated himself at the piano. He played a part of one of his concertos, which Eugenie happened to be learning. It was a great delight to have the artist and his genius so near--within one's own walls. The composition was one of those brilliant ones in which pure Beauty, in a fit of caprice, seems to have lent herself to the service of Elegance, but, only half disguised in changing forms and dazzling lights, betrays in every movement her own nobility and pours out lavishly her glorious pathos. The Countess noticed that most of the listeners, even Eugenie herself, were divided between seeing and hearing, although they gave the close attention and kept the perfect silence which were due to such enchanting playing. Indeed it was not easy to resist a throng of distracting and wondering thoughts as one watched the composer--his erect, almost stiff position, his good-natured face, the graceful movements of his small hands and curved fingers. Turning to Madame Mozart, as the playing ceased, the Count began: "When it is necessary to give a compliment to a composer--not everybody's business--how easy it is for kings and emperors. All words are equally good and equally extraordinary in their mouths; they dare to say whatever they please. And how comfortable it must be, for instance, to sit close behind Herr Mozart's chair, and, at the final chord of a brilliant Fantasia, to clap the modest and learned man on the shoulder and say: 'My dear Mozart, you are a Jack-at-all-trades!' And the word goes like wild-fire through the hall: 'What did he say?' 'He said Mozart was a Jack-at-all-trades!' and everybody who fiddles or pipes a song or composes is enraptured over the expression. In short, that is the way of the great, the familiar manner of the emperors, and quite inimitable. I have always envied the Friedrichs and the Josefs that faculty, but never more than now when I quite despair of finding in my mind's pockets the suitable coin!"