It is not likely that we shall soon have news from Anthony.  Why should he write?  Perhaps to pay his debts?  But this is not customary in Poland.  The reason Raciborski appreciates you so much is that you have no Polish habits, nota bene, not those Polish habits you know and I mean.

You are staying at No. 26 [Chaussee d’Antin].  Are you comfortable?  On what floor, and how much do you pay?  I take more and more interest in these matters, for I also shall be obliged to think of new apartments, but not till after my return to Paris.

  I had only that letter from Pleyel which he sent through you—­
  it is a month ago or more.  Write to the same address, Rue et
  Hotel Beauveau.

Perhaps you did not understand what I said above about my having played for Nourrit.  His body was brought from Italy and carried to Paris.  There was a Requiem Mass for his soul.  I was asked by his friends to play on the organ during the Elevation.

Did Miss Wieck play my Etude well?  Could she not select something better than just this etude, the least interesting for those who do not know that it is written for the black keys?  It would have been far better to do nothing at all. [Footnote:  Clara Wieck gave a concert in Paris on April 16, 1839.  The study in question is No. 5 of Op. 10 (G flat major).  Only the right hand plays throughout on black keys.]

In conclusion, I have nothing more to write, except to wish you good luck in the new house.  Hide my manuscripts, that they may not appear printed before the time.  If the Prelude is printed, that is Pleyel’s trick.  But I do not care.  Mischievous Germans, rascally Jews...!  Finish the litany, for you know them as well as I do.

  Give my love to Johnnie and Grzymaia if you see them.—­Your

     Frederick.

One subject mentioned in this letter deserves a fuller explanation than Chopin vouchsafes.  Adolphe Nourrit, the celebrated tenor singer, had in a state of despondency, caused by the idea that since the appearance of his rival Duprez his popularity was on the wane, put an end to his life by throwing himself out of a window at Naples on the 8th of March, 1839. [Footnote:  This is the generally-accepted account of Nourrit’s death.  But Madame Garcia, the mother of the famous Malibran, who at the time was staying in the same house, thought it might have been an accident, the unfortuante artist having in the dark opened a window on a level with the floor instead of a door. (See Fetis:  Biographie universelle des Musiciens.)] Madame Nourrit brought her husband’s body to Paris, and it was on the way thither that a funeral service was held at Marseilles for the much-lamented man and singer.

Le Sud, Journal de la Mediterranee of April 25, 1839, [footnote:  Quoted in L. M. Quicherat’s Adolphe Nourrit, sa vie, son talent, son caractere] shall tell us of Chopin’s part in this service:—­