MOZART
MOZART[ToC]
In a small, barely-furnished apartment in the Archbishop's palace at Salzburg, in Austria-Hungary, on a winter's morning in the year 1766, a boy of ten years of age was seated at a table, his head resting upon his hand and his eyes turned towards the window. Before him were scattered a number of sheets of manuscript music-paper, several of which were covered with notes, which his childish fingers had patiently traced amidst a plentiful sprinkling of blots and smears.
There was something pathetic about the appearance of the motionless little figure, with its pale face, surmounted by a profusion of brown curls, and the fixed, earnest expression in the large dark eyes—a pathetic seriousness that implied a depth of reflection far beyond his years, and to which the work upon which he was engaged lent additional significance. Thus absorbed, the child paid no heed to the entry of a servant bearing a tray, upon which was spread a simple breakfast; and, following the instructions which he had received, the man laid the tray on the table and quitted the room in silence. Outside the door, however, the old servant paused for a moment in a listening attitude, as if to catch the chink of moving cup and platter, and thus be assured that the child had begun his meal. But as no sound came from within, old Hans shook his head gravely, turned the key in the lock, and, muttering to himself, descended the stairs.