Sarli, which he (concealing a grimace of distaste) is obliged to empty with the best grace possible.

That evening at supper, Wagner was much interested in the adventure, and in order to do honour to the skilful marksman, he uncorked some champagne.

"It is excellent," he said. "My friend Chandon sent it to me."

XII

One day my companions, having articles to write, remained at the Hôtel du Lac, and I arrived alone at Tribschen soon after the two o'clock dinner, a little fearful of having come, perhaps, too soon. The clear sky made the lake very blue and the fresh green of the banks mirrored itself as usual in the tranquil water. I disembarked at the point of the promontory by the foot of the garden, under the little shed which sheltered the wooden steps.

As there was neither door, nor doorkeeper, nor bell, I arrived without giving any signal, and, walking slowly, fearing to find my hosts still at table, I took the least direct route to the house, through a charming, very shady path which follows the edge of the lake. It grows steep very quickly, and the slope which, covered with bushes, topples down to the water, has the appearance of a picturesque little precipice, and nothing could be more lovely to see than the stains of azure made by the lake through the interlacing of the branches. The children have named this corner, where they are forbidden to go alone, for fear of the descents, "The Park of Brigands," and they tell long tales about the adventures which come to pass there after nightfall. At the moment when I came out from the shelter of the trees, the eldest of the little girls saw me and came running, signalling to me not to speak or make any noise. When she reached me, she drew me, without a word, through clumps of trees where I nearly lost my hat, toward a sort of little summer-house of verdure, very near the house, where the coffee had been served. The Master was there, seated on a cane easy-chair, smoking a cigar; Cosima, standing, peeped through the interstices of the bushes, and made me a sign to keep silent: but Wagner, looking at me fiercely, said in a low tone, "What, did you bring all these people?"

"What people?"

Cosima called me, by a gesture, near to her, and from there I could see why my hosts were keeping so quietly out of sight. A coach full of tourists had stopped before the steps of the house. A personage clothed entirely in brown holland, against which appeared the black cord of a lorgnette, was interviewing the servant. I thought at first sight that it was a question of some tiresome acquaintance whom they were endeavouring to get rid of as politely as possible; but I soon comprehended that these were foreign tourists, entire strangers, who, with an incredible assurance, insisted upon visiting Richard Wagner. This excursion was doubtless fitted in between the ascension of the Righi and the promenade to the Lion of Lucerne. They insisted with unparallelled impertinence, feigning not to comprehend the assertions of the servant, prolonging the discussion wilfully, while, in the little grove near-by, one dared not breathe, for fear of being discovered. At length Jacob persuaded these intruders that the Master was absent. The carriage was started again amid the creaking of old iron, the gravel of the drive crunched under the wheels, and the vehicle, crowded with green umbrellas, blue veils, and red shawls, went back down the hill.

"At last we are free!" cried the Master, rising.

"How," said I, "could you believe that I would bring such a rabble here?"

"You arrived at the same time," said he; "but I ought not to have suspected you."

"Nor to have given me that terrible look!"

"The look was for the tourists," said he, laughing. "I am simply beset by the audacity of these strangers," added he. "This scene is very often repeated. The worst of it is that Jacob is against me. He finds all these people very distinguished, and cannot understand why I refuse to see them."

"What a queer situation it would be if one were to receive them. What would they say, and what attitude of mind would they reveal?"

"They relate a curious anecdote of Goethe with regard to a similar adventure," said Wagner. "He was so often intruded upon by the curious in his house in Weimar, that one day, made impatient by the determination of an unknown Englishman to force an entrance, he suddenly ordered his servant to show him in. The Englishman entered. Goethe planted himself erect in the centre of the room, his arms crossed, his eyes on the ceiling, motionless like a statue.

"Surprised for the moment, the stranger soon comprehended the situation, and without being in the least disconcerted, he put on his glasses, walked slowly round Goethe, inspected him from head to foot, and went out without saluting. It is difficult to say," concluded the Master, "which of the two showed the keener wit."

XIII

Every evening at eight o'clock—although, honestly ashamed of having been the cause of such a change in the household, we made every effort to prevent it—every evening at eight o'clock, the door of the drawing-room opened and Jacob announced the supper.

The dining-room was rather small and narrow, and was nearly filled by the oblong table, at one end of which Wagner took his place.

To the supper, consisting of cold meats, salad, cakes and fruit, the Master loved to add some of the champagne of his friend Chandon, and this, he said, we could drink without hesitation because his French admirer had presented him with more than he could use.

Wagner enjoyed this supper and declared that he could not understand why he had not instituted it long before.

"We never thought of it," said he. "It is an incredible oversight not to have thought of a thing so agreeable, even indispensable! In future, it shall always be served, and we shall bless the reform that was brought about by your fasting of the first evening."

We lingered at table, talking. The Master's words, now violent and impassioned, now joyous, but always sincere, made an intense, almost a magnetic impression upon us. We passed through all the phases that they described—enthusiasm, indignation, despair. Each circumstance that he recalled of his life, so full of vexations, "les misérabilités," as he said, he seemed to live over again, and we also endured with him all the heart-breaks and the pangs. Yet, if he saw us becoming too deeply moved, in order that we might recover ourselves, he would give expression, without any change of voice, to some irresistible bit of fun, and end by making us shout with laughter.

The pug-dog, "Cos," having a slight irritation of the skin, was on a diet, and meat had been forbidden him. If, unable to resist his urgent pleadings, one of the company stealthily gave him a little morsel, Wagner stopped abruptly in whatever he was saying, and emphatically repeated the doctor's orders. It was wonderful, that considerate thoughtfulness, in which nothing escaped him; and it revealed to us the infinite goodness, the boundless altruism of that great man, with his overwhelming personality.

XIV

Alas! we were none of us capitalists. This pious pilgrimage to the temple of genius and our glorious sojourn there must be paid for, and the money must be earned.

We had undertaken to send to the different journals exhaustive accounts of the Munich Exposition, with letters of travel, and above all, items of news about Richard Wagner, who at that time was the subject of many discussions and disputes. Living, as he did, in strict seclusion, he aroused the curiosity of the people to the highest point.

Not without misgivings, I had written an article for Le Rappel, entitled "Richard Wagner at Home."

I did not enlarge upon this to the Master himself, and I sincerely hoped he would never hear of it; but someone, believing it would please him, sent him the article.

He was