“Oh, that is plain! I am a good spouse, as is known; in fourteen days comes my consort’s birth-day, and I intend giving a fête, as handsome as my poor means will allow. But how will it surpass in splendor all other fêtes in the world, if Faustina Hasse will honor it with her presence! Will the Signora let me sue in vain?”
“I do not sing, my lord minister.”
“How have I deserved, Signora, that you should so misinterpret my well meant petition?”
“Will His Highness honor the feast with his presence?”
“He received graciously his most faithful servant’s petition, and was pleased to promise me.”
“Good—I will be there.”
“Divine Faustina! My gratitude is unbounded!”
He kissed her hand, and was about to retire. Faustina started up hastily, and cried with flashing eyes—
“Hold—a word!” The minister stood still. “Where is Friedemann Bach?” asked she.
The Count could not suppress a start of surprise, but he answered blandly—“This question, most honored lady, from you—”