“Oho! you have plenty of confidence that you have made something particularly good and beautiful,” said Wegeler in gentle banter.
“Certainly I have,” replied Beethoven, with self-assurance. “I tell you I have created something entirely new, which will please every one of good musical taste and will be widely imitated.”
“But consider, Ludwig; you will be judged not by dilettanti, but by genuine connoisseurs,” said Wegeler, earnestly.
“All the better,” proudly replied Ludwig. “I never intend to compose for ignorance and stupidity.”
“Well, then, take your trio. We will make a trial of it,” said Wegeler. “Or, what is better, give it to me. I will say that it is a composition by one of my acquaintances. If it does not please, we need not mention your name; but if it pleases, as I wish and hope it may, then, at least, you may be sure they will not flatter or over-praise you.”
“That is all right,” answered Ludwig, as he handed the manuscript to his friend, who placed it in his pocket. “Now I am ready.”
“Then we will start, for they will be waiting for us at the Breunings’,” replied Wegeler.
Arm in arm they went through the already silent and dark streets until they came to a handsome house, before the door of which hung a lighted lantern. Wegeler was no stranger there. He conducted Ludwig up a broad, easy flight of steps, opened the door, and led his somewhat timid young friend into a spacious and brilliantly lighted apartment, in which a company of twelve persons was assembled. An elderly lady, whose face still revealed traces of beauty, and with an unusually noble and gracious expression of goodness and benevolence, advanced a few steps and received them with a kindly smile.
“Welcome, dear Wegeler,” she said in a soft, gentle voice which came straight from the heart; “I think I make no mistake in welcoming in your companion my future young friend, Ludwig van Beethoven.”
“You are right, gracious lady,” replied Wegeler. “This is my friend Ludwig, and this, Ludwig, is the Frau Hofrathin von Breuning.”