The King’s large blue eyes glistened, and smiles illumined his face. “Yes, yes, Herr Pianist, your eminent father has arrived, and undoubtedly this moment is at your residence. He must come here at once. I have waited to no purpose long enough. He must come at once—do you hear?”
“Gentlemen! Good news! The old Bach has come.”—Frederick the Great
“Is it Your Majesty’s wish that I fetch my father?” said Emanuel, ready to start at once.
“Yes, yes, hurry!—or, no; stay here. There will be no end of questions and talk when you meet, and that means delay. I had better send another, who will bring him without any ceremony.”
The King rang a bell on the pier-table and a lackey appeared at the door. “Let a messenger be sent without an instant’s delay to the residence of the court pianist, with instructions to fetch the organist, Herr Bach, who has just arrived from Leipsic, to the castle at once. Do you understand? The messenger must take no excuse of any kind for delay.”
“As Your Majesty pleases.”
The man disappeared, and the King turned to his band with a beaming smile. “We have the old man at last. Gather up your music, gentlemen; we will play your concerto, Quantz, some other time. This evening we shall listen to one greater than any of you.”
The musicians obeyed, and then stood whispering together. All this time the King was pacing up and down the hall impatiently, with his flute still under his arm. At last he stopped. “Graun, a word with you.”
Graun approached the King.