Muttering these words, he turned into a side street, and after a few hundred paces entered a house, over the door of which hung a green wreath, signifying that wine was sold there. It was not until twilight fell, and the streets, already darkened by the fog, became doubly dark, that he came out. Another person followed, escorting him with a light, evidently so that he might not stumble upon the door-sill.
“Good-night, Herr van Beethoven,” this person said. “I must look after my own interests. I must have the money in eight days, or credit stops. I also am the father of a family, Herr van Beethoven, and must take care of my own.”
“Don’t make so many words, gossip,” replied the musician with some bitterness. “I give you my word of honor. You know me. Can you not act generously with me?”
The musician went on his way. The other, evidently the keeper of the wine-shop, looked after him, shaking his head.
“What a pity,” he said to himself. “He well deserves better fortune. He is a pleasant, good-natured companion, but certainly his position as a member of the court chapel pays him but little, and it costs money to feed a wife and two little children. But he is past help. I cannot give him credit longer than eight days at the most. He already owes me too much.”
While the wine-shop keeper was making these reflections, his guest found his way with difficulty through the dark streets. Had it been lighter, one would have noticed by his actions that his craving for a “heart strengthener” had in no way bettered his condition. On the contrary, he appeared even more sullen and morose than when he found it. His brow was wrinkled. His lips, tightly closed by his bitter feelings, opened only to utter imprecations and words of discontent, as they had done a little while before.
After walking around for about five minutes he reached the Bonn Gasse. Here he lived in a small, narrow, dark part of the “Graus Haus.”[3] He entered boisterously, and with great difficulty climbed the dark, narrow staircase.
“Is it you, Johann?” asked a gentle voice on the floor above, while at the same time a gleam of light illumined the darkness.
“It is I,” replied the musician sullenly. “Have I come home a little too early, Marie?”