Mozart's Youth

The hands of the house clock, which persistently kept up its monotonous
ticking, moved slowly forward. Minute after minute passed,
and with every minute the vice chapelmaster grew more and more
anxious. A piano stood at one side of the room. To divert his thoughts
he went to it, and with trembling hands struck a few chords, whose
soft, full tones seemed to exert a quieting influence upon him. He
wiped the perspiration from his brow, and his dimmed eyes grew
brighter as he went to the window and looked up at the sky.
“Let the dear God do as He wills,” he gently said to himself. “He
will surely do everything that is for our best and highest good.”
He stood at the window several minutes with clasped hands and
uplifted eyes. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, with here and
there occasional glimpses of the blue. The air was sultry and oppressive,
and seemed to threaten a storm. Suddenly the dark cloud-veil
was rent, as it were, and the dazzling sun shed a brilliantly glorious
flood of light upon the beautiful scenery of Salzburg. The glistening
sunbeams also streamed into the vice chapelmaster?s room, and Father
Mozart welcomed them with a serene smile.