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unbelief.
    Mama's shoulders dropped. "What are we going to do today?"
    Papa pressed his fingers over his eyes and sighed. "There is a church here called St. James. I've heard it has a fine organ."

    "Organ!" Wolfie said. "I want to try!"
    Wolfie had played the organ for the first time on our last trip
when we'd stopped at a small town near the Danube River. He'd
played well then, even though no one had ever taught him. Perhaps
this time I could try too. A keyboard was a keyboard, wasn't it?
    "You may try, Wolferl." Papa smiled. "Actually, that is my
intent."
    Wolfie jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking it over. "Now!
I want to go now!"
    Mama righted the chair and pointed to it. "We will go when
your father says it's time. Now, let him eat a proper breakfast. It's the
least we can do considering his difficult night."
    Mama was always looking after us.

    "See, Wolfgang," Papa said. "These are the pedals. You played
the keys before, but now it's time to play the pedals too."
    Wolfie looked at Papa's feet and tried one of the pedals of the
organ, though he had to slip off the stool to reach it with a toe. A
deep bass sounded from the pipes above us.
    Then suddenly, Wolfie pushed the stool away and played the
pedals standing up, as if he were executing a complicated dance. He
added his hands and, after just a few errors, was playing like he'd
been practicing for months.
    I heard applause from the sanctuary and peeked over the railing
of the loft to see several priests and the choirmaster clapping and
talking amongst themselves.
    "Bravo!" Papa whispered in Wolfie's ear. "Indeed this is a fresh
act of God's grace."
    Mama beamed and kissed Wolfie's other cheek. I scooted over
in the choir pew to the far end.
    Into the shadows.

    "Hurry, children. Now that we're in Munich, we must be seen."
Papa glanced up at the windows of the Nymphenburg Palace, which
was just west of the city, and moved us near some rosebushes along
a path of the palace gardens.
    "Don't push us, Leopold," Mama said. "We must look natural."
    But Papa wasn't done placing us into a scene, creating the perfect
picture. He leaned over us, smiling, though his words were stern.
"Nannerl, you be on the garden side, and take your brother's hand
so you both can be seen from the windows. Then the two of you
walk in front of us." He pointed at Wolfie's nose. "Walk, don't run."
    We did as we were told. We'd arrived in Munich the night
before, and at breakfast that morning Papa had told us how things
must work on our trip. As soon as we entered a new town, we had
to make it known we were there. Sometimes Papa had letters of
introduction-but most of those didn't refer to a specific date for us
to perform, so we had to make that kind of arrangement after we
arrived in town. And the only way to do that was to let those in
charge know we were available. Papa said he wasn't too proud to
knock on doors, but he preferred this subtler, more dignified
approach.
    Lucky for us, today was a gala day, the Feast of St. Antony, and
many people were taking in the pretty gardens at Nymphenburg.
Papa said the palace had been built in 1645 by an elector who was
overjoyed by the birth of his son and heir. He'd had the palace built
for his wife-or at least part of the palace. Since then it had grown
enormous as other electors had added on. The grounds had all sorts
of canals and pools with fountains. And flowers of every color and
scent. It was like walking through sprays of summer perfume.
    But we weren't interested in all that. We were interested in the
promenades and staying close to the building in case anyone of
importance happened to look outside-
    "Herr Mozart!"
    We looked at the windows. There, from the second floor, a man
waved us over. He was about Papa's age.
    "Who's that?" Wolfie asked, too loudly.
    Mama pulled at his sleeve to quiet him while Papa herded us
close to the stately white building. "Prince Frederick Michael, how
wonderful to