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Vienna a few weeks before: the baritone Francesco Albertarelli, who would sing the title role of Don Giovanni, and the highly touted tenor Francesco Morella.
    Our cast also included two sopranos who had performed in Vienna for many years. Aloysia Lange was Mozart’s sister-in-law, and had been a star in the recently closed German opera company. Caterina Cavalieri had been a star of the Italian opera company five years ago. But her voice was starting to fade, and her squat, bosomy figure was showing the effects of middle age and too much pastry. She was the longtime mistress of Antonio Salieri, music director of the company, however, so a role had been found for her. She would sing Donna Elvira, a woman used and abandoned by Don Giovanni, while Lange played Donna Anna, the daughter of the libertine’s murder victim. I watched, amused, as the two sopranos exchanged cool nods.
    â€œGood morning, everyone!” Mozart bustled into the hall. He placed his score on the bench of the fortepiano, nodded at me, and greeted the singers one by one, shaking hands with each of the men, kissing Laschi, and giving a hug to Lange.
    â€œHow do you feel?” he asked her. Like Laschi, Lange was in the advanced stages of pregnancy.
    â€œI’m fine,” she said. “A bit tired, but—”
    â€œWolfgang! My favorite composer!” Caterina Cavalieri swooped over and pulled Mozart away from his sister-in-law.
    â€œHello, Caterina.” Mozart bowed with a flourish and kissed her hand. She giggled.
    â€œI know I said this last week, but I wanted to say it once more. I am thrilled to be working with you again,” she cooed. “I cannot wait to see what you are going to do with my role.”
    Thorwart climbed down from the stage and came over to me. “We’ll be lucky if those two make it through the first three performances,” he muttered, gesturing toward the two pregnant sopranos. “I don’t welcome the expense of hiring replacement singers, but the emperor specifically requested this cast.” He sighed. “I don’t know why—he won’t be here to see any of the performances, the way this war is going.” He shook his head. “And he has no idea what it costs to put on these productions.”
    â€œWell, he did close the German company and transfer all its resources to us,” I reminded him. “Surely that gives us a big enough budget to replace the ladies when the time comes?”
    Thorwart laughed. “You are naïve, Da Ponte. Most of those savings went to the higher salary the emperor gave Salieri when he promoted him to music director. And now Mozart has a salary too, as court composer.”
    â€œI’m sure the emperor is aware of our costs,” I said.
    â€œWell, if I were you, I wouldn’t be so certain. If this war drags on, we may be the next to close.” He glanced over at the stage. “No! You over there! Put the singers’ parts on their chairs!” He nodded at me and scurried off.
    â€œLet’s begin, everyone,” Mozart called. I bounded up to the stage with my libretto as Mozart sat at the fortepiano. “I want to begin with the sextet,” he said. In the libretto, Don Giovanni, the notorious seducer, seeking to escape the consequences of his actions, orders his manservant to pose as the master and woo one of the libertine’s former lovers. In the dark streets of Seville, where the opera is set, the servant attempts to escape the woman and several neighbors who seek revenge for the evildoer’s many crimes. The characters express their deepest emotions during a sextet. I was pleased with my work on the number, and Mozart had set my poetry to beautiful, evocative music.
    I leaned back in my chair as the six singers worked through the piece. Occasionally Mozart would stop them to suggest a different way of singing a phrase, but overall, I was impressed by the way the singers took to the music