must say this is asking rather too much, for it is not likely I
shall be able to play such a sonata at sight." "Indeed, I think
so too; it is too much; no one could do it," said the Dean
eagerly, being all in my favor. "At all events," said I, "I can
but try." I heard the Dean muttering all the time behind me, "Oh,
you rogue! oh, you knave!" I played till 11 o'clock, bombarded
and besieged, as it were, by fugue themes.

Lately, at Stein's, he brought me a sonata of Becke's, but I
think I already told you this. A propos, as to his little girl,
[Footnote: Nanette, at that time eight years old; afterwards the
admirable wife of Andreas Streicher, the friend of Schiller's
youth, and one of Beethoven's best friends in Vienna.] any one
who can see and hear her play without laughing must be Stein
[stone] like her father. She perches herself exactly opposite the
treble, avoiding the centre, that she may have more room to throw
herself about and make grimaces. She rolls her eyes and smirks;
when a passage comes twice she always plays it slower the second
time, and if three times, slower still. She raises her arms in
playing a passage, and if it is to be played with emphasis she
seems to give it with her elbows and not her fingers, as
awkwardly and heavily as possible. The finest thing is, that if a
passage occurs (which ought to flow like oil) where the fingers
must necessarily be changed, she does not pay much heed to that,
but lifts her hands, and quite coolly goes on again. This,
moreover, puts her in a fair way to get hold of a wrong note,
which often produces a curious effect. I only write this in order
to give you some idea of pianoforte-playing and teaching here, so
that you may in turn derive some benefit from it. Herr Stein is
quite infatuated about his daughter. She is eight years old, and