Nothing in the least occurred in the next few days to confirm these hopes, and Frau von Breuning, though she still clung to her hope, had to admit to herself there was little foundation for it, when one evening Count Waldstein appeared entirely unexpectedly in the circle of friends who were entertaining themselves with music. Besides the Breuning family, Beethoven, Wegeler, and chapelmaster Ries were present. All extended a respectful and friendly greeting to the Count. He smiled contentedly, roguishly looked at Beethoven, and pressed his right hand upon his left breast-pocket, in which something light rustled.
“Young man,” he said good-humoredly, “what do you imagine I am carrying here in my coat-pocket? Guess!”
“How can I guess, Count?” replied Ludwig. “It must be something of considerable importance, since Your Grace is so mysterious about it.”
“Why, yes, important enough for certain people, though to me simply pleasant and agreeable. But I already perceive you are not gifted with the faculty of guessing, dear Ludwig, so I must help you a little. This mysterious thing in my pocket is a document from the electoral court. I got sight of the address there, and incidentally, as I intended to visit my worthy friend here, I took the document with the intention of handing it to the person addressed. He is a certain Ludwig van Beethoven, and I was sure I should find him here.”
“A document from the electoral court to me! Impossible!” exclaimed Beethoven, at first astonished and then delighted, while the kindly face of Frau von Breuning was lit up with joy.
“Yes, yes, to you, my young friend,” said the Count, as he removed the document from his pocket. “Here, take it. Open it, and see what the Elector has done for you.”
Beethoven slowly took the large envelope, looked at the address and seal, and shook his head. “The Count doubtless is only making sport of me,” he said. “If I break the seal I shall only be heartily laughed at.”
“Oh, you most distrustful of all distrustful men and musicians!” the Count replied. “How can you entertain such a foolish supposition? Open it! Open it! Quick!”
“I will not,” replied Beethoven, firmly, as he placed the envelope on the table.
“You foolish fellow, you can do as you please, of course,” said the Count, a little impatiently. “This much I know, however, that our most gracious lord, the Elector, has not done this for a fool, but for his court organist, and this highest of all honors he has bestowed upon you in this document.”[20]