This indirect invitation for a longer stay, which was heartily seconded by the rest of the family, obliged the travelers to explain their urgent reason for declining it; yet they readily agreed that the start need not be made so early as to interfere with a meeting at breakfast.
They stood, talking in groups, a little while longer. Mozart looked about him, apparently for Eugenie; since she was not there he turned naïvely with his question to Franziska.
"What do you think, on the whole, of our Don Juan? Can you prophesy anything good for him?"
"In the name of my aunt, I will answer as well as I can," was the laughing reply. "My opinion is that if Don Juan does not set the world mad, the good Lord may shut up his music chests for years to come, and give mankind to understand—"
"And give mankind," corrected the Count, "the bag-pipes to play on, and harden the hearts of the people so that they worship Baal."
"The Lord preserve us!" laughed Mozart. "But in the course of the next sixty or seventy years, long after I am gone, will arise many false prophets."
Eugenie approached, with the Baron and Max; the conversation took a new turn, growing ever more earnest and serious, and the composer, ere the company separated, rejoiced in many a word of encouragement and good cheer. Finally, long after midnight, all retired; nor, till then, had any one felt weary.
Next day—for the fair weather still held—at ten o'clock a handsome coach, loaded with the effects of the two travelers, stood in the courtyard. The Count, with Mozart, was waiting for the horses to be put in, and asked the master how the carriage pleased him.
"Very well, indeed; it seems most comfortable." "Good! Then be so kind as to keep it to remind you of me."
"What! You are not in earnest?"