48.

Milan, Dec. 18, 1772.

I HOPE, dear sister, that you are well, dear sister. When this
letter reaches you, dear sister, my opera will be in scena, dear
sister. Think of me, dear sister, and try, dear sister, to
imagine with all your might that my dear sister sees and hears it
also. In truth, it is hard to say, as it is now eleven o'clock at
night, but I do believe, and don't at all doubt, that in the
daytime it is brighter than at Easter. My dear sister, to-morrow
we dine with Herr von Mayer; and do you know why? Guess! Because
he invited us. The rehearsal to-morrow is to be in the theatre.
The impresario, Signor Cassiglioni, has entreated me not to say a
word of this to a soul, as all kinds of people would come
crowding in, and that we don't wish. So, my child, I beg, my
child, that you won't say one syllable to any one on the subject,
or too many people would come crowding in, my child. Approposito,
do you know the history that occurred here? Well, I will relate
it to you. We were going home straight from Count Firmiani's, and
when we came into our street we opened our door, and what do you
think happened? We went in. Good-bye, my pet. Your unworthy
brother (frater),

WOLFGANG.