We met him the first time at M. de Schloezer’s dinner.  Schloezer, with his usual tact, plied him well with good food, gave him the best of wines and a superlative cigar. (Liszt is a great epicure and an inveterate smoker.) M. de Schloezer never mentioned the word “music,” but made Liszt talk, and that was just the thing Liszt wanted to do, until, seeing that he was not expected to play, he was crazy to get to the piano.  Finally he could not resist, and said to Schloezer, “Do play something for me!”

“Never!” said Schloezer.  “I would not dare.”

Then Liszt turned to me and asked me to sing.  I also said, “I would not dare.”  Whereupon he said, “Well, since no one will do anything, I will play myself.”

(The Minghettis, von Keudell, and Count Arco, Schloezer’s secretary, were the guests.)

How divinely he played!  He seemed to be inspired.  Certainly the enthusiastic and sympathetic listeners were worthy to be his audience.

“Do you still sing Massenet?” he said to me.  “Do you recollect my dining with you in Paris, and your singing those exquisite songs?”

“Recollect it!” I cried.  “How do you think I could ever forget?”

“Will you not sing?  I will accompany you,” he said.  “Have you any of Massenet’s songs?”

“I have nothing with me to-night.  I never dreamt of singing,” I answered.

Schloezer said:  “That is no obstacle.  I will send a servant to your house directly to fetch the music.”  And in a very short time the music was in my hands.

Then Liszt sat down and, turning over the pages, found what he wanted, and I sang.  Schloezer was radiantly happy.  There was not one disturbing element.  Every one was as appreciative as he was himself—­those who listened as well as those who performed.

[Illustration:  NOTE FROM F. LISZT]

Liszt was at his best; I mean that he could not have been better.  Knowing that Count Arco sang, he insisted on hearing him.  Arco at first declined, but finally yielded—­there was no resisting the arch-charmer.  Liszt played the “Suoni la tromba” (Arco’s cheval de bataille), by heart, of course, singing himself, to help the timid singer, and adding variations on the piano.

Liszt was in such high spirits that we would not have been surprised if he had danced a jig.  He threw his long hair back from his forehead, as if to throw care to the winds.  Later he spread his large hands over the keyboard in protest and said, “No more from me, but we must hear Schloezer before we go.”  Therefore Schloezer was obliged to play.  He can only improvise, as you know.  Liszt sat by his side and played a helpful bass.

Schloezer ordered some champagne, and we all drank one another’s healths.  It was after one o’clock when we bade our host adieu.  Johan and I took Liszt in our carriage and left him at his apartment in the Via Margutta on our way home.