We saw a great deal of him afterward, and he dined with us twice.  The first time we asked Grieg, the Norwegian genius, thinking it would please Liszt to meet him.  Perhaps this was a mistake.  However, it was a most interesting evening.  Mrs. Grieg sang charmingly (Grieg’s songs, of course); and Liszt, with his hands folded in front of him, was lost in thought—­or was he asleep?  Let us say he dozed—­only waking up to clap his hands and cry “Brava!” But it was perfectly wonderful when he read at sight a concerto of Grieg’s, in manuscript, which Grieg had brought with him.  Liszt played it off as if he had known it all his life, reading all the orchestra parts.  Both these great artists were enchanted with each other, but after a while Liszt became tired of music and asked if we could not have a game of whist.  To play a banal game of whist with Liszt seemed a sacrilege, but we played, all the same.  I was very distraite, seeing Grieg and his wife (who do not play cards) wandering restlessly around the room, and sometimes I put on an ace when a two would have done the deed.

Liszt plays the piano better than he plays whist.  I don’t know how many times he revoked.  Every one pretended not to notice, and we paid up at the finish without a murmur.  He was delighted to win four lire and something, and counted out the small change quite conscientiously.  Johan drove him home—­a very tired and sleepy Liszt—­and only left him at the sill of his door.

I received a very queer letter the day Liszt dined here.  I copy it for you.  It was from the Princess W——­, a lady whose friendship he renounced when he took holy orders.

I hear that you are going to have the Master (le Maitre) to dine at your house.  I beg of you to see that he does not sit in a draught of air, or that the cigar he will smoke will not be too strong, and the coffee he drinks will be weak, for he cannot sleep after, and please see that he is brought safely to his apartment.

    Yours, etc., etc.

* * * * *

All these instructions were carried out to the letter.  On another occasion Liszt wrote to me that he would bring some of his songs to try over at five o’clock.  I inclose his letter.  What a chance, thought I, for me to give pleasure to some of my friends who I knew were longing to see him.  Although he had said entre nous in his letter, and I knew that he really wanted to look through the songs alone with me, I could not resist the temptation—­though it was such rank disobedience—­and said to them:  “Liszt is coming to me at five o’clock.  If you would like to hear him, and consent to be hidden behind a door, I will invite you.”  They all accepted with rapture, and were assembled in the little salon before the time appointed.  The door was left open and a large screen placed before it.