The easy and familiar manner in which Wolfgang addressed the august lady nearly paralyzed the courtiers, who were accustomed to the most rigid etiquette, but the Empress was not in the least offended with his childish frankness; on the other hand, she appeared pleased with this sincere, cordial, and informal artist nature.
“Oh, yes, child,” she kindly said; “but are you so sure of all this? I warn you there are several persons behind us who know a great deal about music, and they will criticise you pretty severely.”
“Those there?” replied Wolfgang, turning a little to one side and casting a sharp glance at the brilliant assemblage. “Those?” he repeated, shaking his head contemptuously. “No, Lady Empress, begging your pardon, they do not look as if they were good musicians. Certainly not.”
“And why not, you saucy boy?” said the Empress, restraining a smile with some difficulty.
“Well, they don’t show any signs of it, Your Majesty. They are altogether too stiff.”
At this naïve reply, which nearly threw the whole royal train into a panic, Maria Theresa could no longer restrain herself. She laughed loudly, and as a matter of etiquette her attendants had to laugh also, though they were not particularly flattered at the low estimate the little virtuoso had placed upon their musical ability.
“Well, you are truly a saucy child,” said the Empress, still laughing, as she patted Wolfgang’s cheeks with her white hands. “Really, Franz, he is a cunning little imp and ought to make a diplomat or a statesman, if physiognomy counts for anything.”
“He certainly does not lack for courage,” said the Emperor, smiling and turning to the Empress, who had addressed her last remark to him.
“Well, then, let us keep him here,” said the little Marie Antoinette, raising her head and looking at the Empress with her large, kindly eyes. “I like him very much.”
“Yes, there would be one advantage in keeping him,” replied the Empress, good-naturedly. “You could at least learn from him how to play the piano properly.”