angry.

"A discord already!" he cried. Then he declared to Cosima that his house and all things relating to his private life, including the dogs, were to him like the mysterious jewel of his destiny, and that he experienced actual terror at seeing them mentioned in the papers.

Cosima did her utmost to excuse and defend me, and the Master was appeased. But a Lucerne leaflet, the Journal des Étrangers, took upon itself to reprint the article, thereby drawing to the vicinity of Tribschen a swarm of boats filled with inquisitive observers, and Wagner was freshly annoyed. He felt a real chagrin, he said, because he could not endure such things from his friends, and he wished to consider us his friends. At length, having given him my promise not to repeat the offence, he pardoned it; and a few days later, in order to amuse me, he gave me the following letter—to read and then destroy— which had made them laugh heartily, and which a lady of Thonon had been inspired to write by my article, "Richard Wagner at Home."

"My dear Sir,

"Pray pardon me for writing to you in this way, but I have just seen, in a newspaper, an article about you, and it is with the deepest emotion that I have read all the eulogies it contains, for, my dear Sir, I see that you, also, have passed through evil days. Being myself, at the present time, in the same unfortunate position, I can the more deeply sympathise with you, my dear Sir.

"I was brought up amid the greatest luxury, and was the object of every care and consideration. Unhappily for me, family misfortunes and reverses came upon me, and we lost all. Those who used to call themselves our friends no longer know us.

"Thank God, I have had the best possible education. I am passionately fond of music, but, alas! since our misfortunes, I have not touched a piano, and the fact that I have not the means to procure one is an immense deprivation and a real grief to me.

"Why am I not close to you, my dear Sir! In that case, I feel sure that you would not refuse me admission to your house, and a place at your piano.

"As for me, I have five children, and I have not the means for a home, but if I could be near you, my dear Sir, it seems to me that I should be happy.

"I should be indifferent to all other privations, if I were able to cultivate the art which is so dear to me.

"I foresee your astonishment, my dear Sir, when you read my letter; but if I could only see you, you would no longer be surprised. I know beforehand that your house will be mine, and your piano will be mine...."

"Your piano will be mine...." That phrase remained famous for a long time at Tribschen.

XV

One day, having landed at Tribschen, as I reached the house, I heard through the wide-open windows of the drawing-room, mingling with the light voices and laughter of the children, the sound of a curious melody. What could be happening? Not wishing to interrupt, I advanced very carefully in order not to be heard on the gravelled path, and, having climbed the steps, I saw a delightful picture.

In the centre of the room, the four little girls, the youngest of whom was hardly three, were dancing. Wagner, at the piano, provided the music. The smallest child laughed with delight, revealing all her little new teeth, as she strove to follow the steps of the older ones. Her tiny feet tapped the floor vigorously, out of time with the rhythm which the player, himself laughing and exclaiming as much as the dancers, nevertheless marked with much force. When they grew tired of dancing, I went in.

"Oh, did you see?" cried Senta, running toward me. "That is the Tailors' Quadrille. Papa composed it for us."

"The Tailors' Quadrille." Music of Richard Wagner! If one could only remember that music now! If one could only know, at least, that it is written down and preserved! As for me, I seem to hear it again when I recall that scene, which I remember in every detail, and which is, even to-day, as vivid and living as it is exquisite!

XVI

Villiers had some very singular traits of character to which his old friends paid no attention, but which never failed to astonish those who knew him but slightly and had never been forewarned. He experienced, on occasions, a sort of nervous terror which he did not even attempt to resist.

For instance, one day as he was talking with some one at a street corner, he received in his eye an infinitesimal spatter of saliva. Seized with a sudden panic, Villiers darted away from his amazed interlocutor, and with all speed made for the nearest pharmacy.

His vivid imagination had instantly foreseen all the possibilities of calamity, by this venomous drop he felt himself inoculated with the most baleful maladies. He saw himself condemned, lost! To quiet him, the chemist with great haste had made a point of bathing his eye in all sorts of supposedly powerful lotions.

One afternoon at Tribschen, Villiers was playing with the children; tossing a ball, which, to their great glee, he sent very high in the air. Russ, the Newfoundland, bounding from place to place and barking, did his best to join in the sport.

But once, as he gave a strong impetus to the ball, Villiers' recoiling fist struck a sharp blow on the dog's jowl, drawing from him a reproachful whine. Villiers grew pale as he examined his hand, and found a red mark where the dog's tooth had lightly scratched the skin; then, with one haggard look at us, he turned and fled, running as only he could run.

"What is the matter? Where is he going?" cried Wagner in dismay.

Some answer had to be made.

"Oh, it is nothing. He struck his hand against the teeth of poor Russ, and grazed the skin."

"Yes, I know; but it did not bleed. Is that why he grew so pale?"

"A brain like his receives quick suggestions; in the flash of an eye his thoughts fly to the very limit of possible consequences. Villiers doubtless believes himself in danger of hydrophobia, and as in such case delay adds to the danger, he is running as fast as he can to Lucerne, to have the wound cauterised."

"But there is no wound."

Wagner received an unpleasant impression. He was clearly disturbed by Villiers, whose conversation he found it so difficult to understand, and whose character he could not comprehend.

But it was best to laugh it off. The involuntary culprit, good old Russ, was in perfect health, and there could not be any danger.

When Villiers, feeling rather sheepish, returned to Tribschen on the following day, Wagner, as soon as he saw him in the distance, made a pretence of extreme terror, and exclaimed,

"He is mad! He is mad!"

And as Villiers with a wry smile approached nearer to him, he broke into a run, crying out, "Do not bite me!" Then, as if to escape from the danger, he climbed with extraordinary agility to the very top of a pine-tree.

XVII

The Master asked me if I knew the Military March he had dedicated to the King of Bavaria. He had on his piano a copy of this piece, arranged for four hands.

"Let us play it," said he. "But I warn you that I play the piano very badly."

What of my playing, then! But I felt that I must not disclose my weakness, that, at any cost, this wonderful, rare moment must be enshrined in my memory:—to have played a duet with Richard Wagner, if it were only a few bars!

He took the upper part, and as the bass is more difficult for me, that made the matter worse. But I seated myself courageously, mentally determined to make every effort of which I was capable.

We began to play, without stumbling. I felt as though I were a somnambulist walking on a narrow ledge, and I seemed to have been doing so for a very long time.

But at last, on the third page, Wagner himself hesitated and then stopped, declaring that part too difficult.

"How well you keep the time!" he exclaimed. And then he complimented me upon my way