“Very badly.”
“How was that?”
Here Mozart told her what he had related to Doles. Cecilia colored, and he saw tears in her eyes as he concluded.
“How cruel,” she said, with noble indignation, “thus to take advantage of the weakness, say the vices of a man in whose breast, notwithstanding all his faults, the fire of genius is still inextinguishable.”
“Cruel indeed!” echoed Mozart.
“But you must not fancy all the world selfish and regardless of the artist’s high claims, because some are so, who indeed are incapable of appreciating what they pretend to admire. Shun such men, dear Mozart—shun them utterly! there is no safety in their companionship.”
“You mean to warn me?” asked the composer.
“I only entreat you,” said Cecilia, earnestly; “such associations can never profit, but must disturb you. What need have I to say anything? Have not you yourself learned by experience how hard it is to help being drawn down in the vortex?”
Mozart confessed that such was the truth; but desirous of removing any unfavorable opinion of his discretion that his fair friend might have conceived from his recent act of folly, he entered into an argument to show her why she need never fear his falling into such snares. This led to reminiscences of his days of enthusiasm, and the raptures of his past successes.