Disturbed by his nervous restlessness, the aged composer went to the window, and opened it with trembling hands. The wind blew aside his white locks, and cooled his feverish forehead.
“I have one fear,” he said, turning to his brother, and slightly shuddering, “that haunts me at times. It is the fear of poverty. Look at this meanly-furnished room, that single lamp, my meager fare; and yet, all these cost money, and my little wealth is daily consumed. Think of the misery of an old man, helpless and deaf, without the means of subsistence!”
“Have you not your pension secure?”
“It depends on the bounty of those who bestowed it; and the favor of princes is capricious. Then, again, it was given on condition I remained in the territory of Austria, at the time the King of Westphalia offered me the place of chapel-master at Cassel. Alas! I cannot bear the restriction. I must travel, brother; I must leave this city.”
“You—leave Vienna?” exclaimed his brother in utter amazement, looking at the feeble old man whose limbs could scarcely bear him from one street to another. Then recollecting himself, he wrote down his question.
“Why? Because I am restless and unhappy. I have no peace, Carl! is it not the chafing of the unchained spirit, that pants to be free, and to wander through God’s limitless universe? Alas! she is built up in a wall of clay, and not a sound can penetrate her gloomy dungeon!”
Overcome by his feelings, the old man bowed his head on his brother’s shoulder, and wept bitterly. Carl saw that the delirium which sometimes accompanied his paroxysms of illness had clouded his faculties.
The malady increased. The sufferer’s eyes were glazed; he grasped his brother’s hand with a tremulous pressure.
“Carl! Carl! I pardon you the evil you did me in childhood; I have pardoned all. Pray for me, brother!” cried the failing voice of the artist.
His brother supported him to the sofa, and called for assistance. In an hour the room was filled with the neighbors and friends of the dying man. He seemed gradually sinking into insensibility.