“Calm yourself, Frau Mozart,” he said. An embarrassed smile lingered on his face. “Augustine healed before you had even arrived—so I did not think of telling you.”

“And what are we to do now?” Mama’s voice became shrill. In it, I heard the fear of the mother who had lost so many children before Woferl and me. “Your two other boys have fallen ill. Soon we will all have the smallpox. This will be on your shoulders, Herr Schmalecker.”

Over their arguing, I could hear the wails of Herr Schmalecker’s stricken children coming from somewhere downstairs.

Papa looked at me. His eyes held a silent warning. “Nannerl,” he said. “Go sit with Woferl in his room. I will come get you when I’m ready.”

I nodded without a word and headed to my brother’s door.

“What has happened?” Woferl asked me as soon as I stepped in. He sat unmoving on his bed, his head turned in the direction of Mama’s voice. He looked startled to see me.

“Herr Schmalecker’s youngest daughter had the smallpox shortly before we arrived,” I replied. “The others woke up feverish this morning.”

Woferl searched my face with blank eyes. He looked distant this morning, his soul somewhere far away. I sat down on the corner of his bed and frowned at him. “What is it, Woferl?”

He shrugged. His vacant stare turned to the window, as it had for the past few days. “Hyacinth was in my room last night,” he said. “He stood in the corner and watched me.”

I tensed, my fingers closing tight on his blankets. He found us. “Why was he there?”

Woferl didn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t know. Instead, he looked back down at the papers spread out on his bed, then pressed his hands to his ears. “I cannot concentrate,” he said. “There is too much screaming.”

I worked on my composition late into the night, urged on by the fear of Hyacinth watching my brother. The song of your heart, Hyacinth had asked of me. I flipped through the pages and listened to the music in my mind. It was a path that extended nowhere, long and winding, forever heading toward a place I might never see. I wrote and wrote until my eyes strained from the low light.

Outside, I could hear the sounds of horse hooves clattering against the cobblestones, the shouts of people as they carried their luggage to the carriages and prepared to leave Vienna. Still other voices were ones of terror, voices calling out for doctors to visit their homes, to see to family members that had fallen ill. I tried to shut out the sounds. They rang in my mind, tearing apart my thoughts.

Finally, when the moon rose high in the sky, I stood up gingerly and crept to my door. I did not know what I wanted to do. I simply did not want to stay in my room any longer.

I walked silently over to Woferl’s door, then opened it and stepped inside. He had fallen asleep amidst the strewn papers of his composition, and his dark hair framed his face in wayward curls. His cheeks looked flushed. I closed the door behind me, then walked over to his bed and crawled in next to him. I hugged him to me. He stirred a little, then instinctively huddled closer to me and let out a sigh.

I tried to remember him as a tiny boy, when his fingers were still small and fresh and chubby, and his face was eager and innocent. I lay awake beside him, caught in my own emotions.

I had not stayed with Woferl for an hour when Papa suddenly burst into the room. I bolted upright, disoriented in my weariness.

“Papa?” I said.

His face was grave. He hurried over to the bed and began to wrap Woferl up in his blanket. My brother whimpered, then rubbed at his eyes even as Papa threw a coat over him. “Go back to your room, Nannerl,” he said to me. “I will speak to you in the morning.”

I watched Papa nudge my arm away from Woferl and pick him up. A sudden panic hit me. “Where are you going? Where are you taking Woferl?”

Papa ignored me, then stood with Woferl in his arms and promptly left the room. Through the open door, I saw Mama standing at the top of the stairs. Without waiting any longer, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and rushed out to the hall. Papa had already started down the stairs. Woferl looked up at Mama and me with sleepy, startled eyes.

I put my hand on my mother’s arm. “Mama, where are they going?”

“Hush, Nannerl,” Mama said. Her face looked drawn, and full of fear. I looked quickly from her to Papa’s back, and then to her again. “Your father is taking Woferl to a friend’s home. He will be safer there.”

“Safer?” I furrowed my brows. He was taking him away to a place where I could no longer watch over him. Hyacinth would find him and steal him in the night. The certainty of it clawed at me. “What about us?”

Mama looked at me. “We are to stay here,” she answered.

I could not believe it. Instinctively, I broke away from her and started running down the stairs.

“Nannerl!”

I ignored Mama’s calls. Papa and Woferl had headed out the front door by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs. I stumbled on one of the steps, then pulled myself upright and ran out toward the street. Herr Schmalecker and his wife stood in the living room and watched me go.

A coach was already waiting for Papa. I hurried to him before he could reach it, and with a strength borne from another world, I grabbed his arm in a tight grip. In that moment, I realized I wasn’t angry with him for taking Woferl. I was angry because he was not taking me.

“Papa!”

He turned around to glare at me. “Go back inside,” he snapped. “Do not stand out in the street in nothing but your nightdress.”

“Why are you leaving us? Take us with you!”

“You cannot come,” he said. He turned away from me and helped Woferl into the coach. “Stay here with your mother.”

“Why?” I demanded.

“Woferl is in the gravest danger. You should know that, Nannerl.” Papa prepared to step into the coach. “His frail health cannot last in this house. A friend has agreed to let us stay with him, at least until the threat subsides. He lives near the edge of the city. He will only take two of us. The times are dangerous enough as they are.”

“Why can we not leave Vienna?”

“You know very well why we cannot leave yet.”

I realized that I had started to cry. When Papa turned away from me again and made to get into the coach, I grabbed him again and pulled him away with all my strength. “I’m frightened, Papa,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “How can you leave us behind and take only Woferl? What if we fall ill? What will happen then?”

Papa grabbed my shoulders and shook me once. “Your mother has come down with smallpox once before—she should not be harmed. You know how delicate your brother’s health is. What will happen to this family if something were to happen to him? Have you ever thought of that?”