it mingles with the first.

"How can I, in the open streets? They would throw us both into the lake!"

"Then let us get out of sight of the passers-by."

So behold us forthwith clambering over joists and building materials of all kinds, to reach a deserted corner. Villiers was enchanted with our humming, which we had to recommence many times. His quick imagination supplied all that was lacking; he fancied he could hear the whole orchestra. Suddenly he caught sight of something, and stopped short, his clear blue eyes very wide open. Staring unwinkingly, he began to laugh.

"What on earth is that extraordinary word, 'Dampfschifffahrtgesellschaft?'"

True enough, there was the word in big letters on a board painted white, high up between two posts driven into the soil.

"Six vowels among twenty-three consonants, and all in one word!" cried Villiers. "What can such a word mean?"

And, uniting our vague notions of German, we concluded that it signified "Steamship Company," and that this was the landing-place. In fact, beyond the poles joined by the plank, which together formed a sort of door-casing, there was a wooden staircase which led to a pontoon. Swans swam about in the blue water as it lapped against the piles, and the sails, as white as their wings, bore toward the distant Eden, toward the promontory which the sun at that moment covered with a golden mist. "What time is it?" Every few moments this question was asked. At last the time came to go back to the Hôtel du Lac for dinner. For, contrary to the French custom, they served a very hearty dinner there at one o'clock, and if anything further was desired, a very light supper at eight; so finally we understood why, on the day before, it had seemed to us that they never dined at Tribschen.

V

Again we arrive at Tribschen. The children meet us and run on before us to the drawing-room, where they are waiting for us. With what sincere cordiality they welcome us! We are no longer the unknown people of yesterday. Cos hardly barks at all, and Russ, the black Newfoundland, without moving from his place on the steps, slowly sweeps the stone with his plumy tail, to show us his good feeling.

With what pleasure in its restful shade we breathe again the faintly perfumed air of this room. We must sit down and rest a little, they say; but the Master, full of good-humour and high spirits, remains standing. He strives to comprehend the voluble conversation (overflowing with enthusiasm, interspersed with laughter) of Villiers de l'Isle-Adam, and he imagines that if he does not quite get the full meaning, it must be the fault of his imperfect understanding of French. No one of us dares to tell him that in listening to Villiers it is the same for all, that he more often than not twists his language into spirals of unintelligible phrases, through which flash both light and wit. When one knows him well, one sees only these flashes; but the Master does not know him.

So, in order to excuse himself, he relates to us an incident that took place once when he was living at Zurich, through his inability to comprehend French.

An orchestra leader, Alsatian or Belgian, having, in any case, a peculiar accent, was speaking with him of the different ways of directing. He condemned certain habits which he considered hopelessly bad, and emphasised his talk with one phrase which he repeated again and again.

"C'est comme je vous assure."

Wagner heard, "C'est comme chez vous à Zurich."

Irritated, at first, by this rude assertion, he ended by suddenly growing angry, and vehemently defending the Zurich orchestra, which he himself sometimes conducted.

His interlocutor, unable to understand what had caused such anger, was dismayed, excused himself, stammered, and a long time passed before it was made clear.

At the memory of this misunderstanding, Wagner's laugh rang out clear and vibrant, and with all our hearts we laughed with him.

VI

The Master then sat down at the piano, and related to us the poem of Siegfried, upon which he was at that time working. He played the themes, measure by measure, and declaimed and sang with such ardour, such vigour, and such a perfect expression that we seemed actually to be living the whole drama. The hero, at the moment of re-forging the sword, strikes a single blow upon the anvil, and Mime, terror-struck, falls over backward. Wagner rose and almost disappeared entirely in the great violet curtains, in order the better to exemplify the fright of the gnome. He emerged again laughing, and declared that, not being in any sense a pianist, this music of the future was too difficult for him.

"I will outline the second act better," said he; and he revealed to us the whole bird scene in such a delightful way that no later execution of it, anywhere, has quite exalted us to the height of that vivid first impression.

VII

It is a little cooler now, and we are wandering through the paths of the garden, with their borders of tender green. The Master wishes to show us his domain.

All about us the children run, laughing and calling to each other with happy voices. Russ bounds on ahead, picks up stones, which he brings back to us with an insinuating air, anxious to draw us into a game, but Wagner is rather grieved over this game. "That is a bad trick I taught him; now I cannot break him of it, and he damages his teeth against the stones."

The Master walks rapidly; he guides us toward a high kiosk, where the view, he says, is superb.

In truth, it is a ravishing place. The house seems half buried in a billow of verdure, sheep browse on the slopes of the hills, and below, on the limpid azure of the lake, white sails drift, reflecting the amethyst hues of the high summits. A delicious light bathes in serenity all this wonderful nature.

Richard Wagner, with both hands upon the rustic balustrade of the kiosk, stood erect and silent, with that grave and solemn expression which came to him suddenly when he was touched by any deep emotion.

It was he whom I watched now, and that was an unforgettable instant: his eyes, as blue as the lake, wide open, almost staring, seemed to absorb this picture, which radiated for them a world of thoughts; this refuge, this exquisite retreat, created by the tenderness of a much-loved friend, who had known how to brave all, and to face the reprobation of the world with head erect, in order to come to the consolation of one to whom she had consecrated herself without reserve, at the time when he was most cruelly pursued by the bitter things of life; this dear solitude, enlivened by the laughter of children, where the blows of destiny could reach him only across a rampart of love—it was with a very tender gratitude that he contemplated it.

He understood that I had followed his thought, for he continued aloud:—

"And yet," said he, "this little corner of earth, so full of memories, does not belong to me; but I intend to buy a small piece of land, just by this side here, so that, later, the children may be able to return here, and at least retain something of this nest of their infancy."

This desire was not realised. The Master, probably, gave up the idea.

VIII

Madam Cosima and our companions rejoined us, and we walked a long time in that limitless garden. But it was growing late; we could not abuse our welcome. We wished to take leave; they exclaimed at that, and we confessed, with much laughter, our fasting of the day before, our culpable habit of dining in the evening. Then the Master showed a real chagrin; he could not pardon himself for having forgotten that French customs are different from those of German Switzerland. We were moved almost to shame for having provoked such regret, which revealed to us, however, the keen sensibility and the sensitive kindness of this much misunderstood man.