with a view of the Tuileries in the distance.  In a pool in the garden there were two black swans, to which, in a dreamy sort of way, I felt strangely attracted.  When young Hatzfeld looked me up in my room, to make inquiries about my needs in the name of my well-wishers, a strong emotion overwhelmed me for the first time in many years, and I felt a profound sense of well-being in the midst of a condition of complete impecuniosity and detachment from everything usually considered as necessary for permanent existence.

I asked permission to have my Erard brought to my room for the period of my stay, as it had not been packed away with the rest of my furniture, whereupon a handsome room was given up to me on the first floor.  Here I worked every morning at the translation of my Fliegender Hollander, and also composed two musical album pieces, one of which, intended for Princess Metternich, contained a pretty theme which had long floated in my mind, and was afterwards published, while a similar one, for Frau Pourtales, got somehow mislaid.

My intercourse with the family of my friend and host had not only a soothing influence upon my spirit, but also filled me with calm content.  We dined together daily, and the midday meal often developed into the well-known ‘diplomatic dinner.’  I here made acquaintance with the former Prussian minister, Bethmann-Hollweg, the father of Countess Pourtales, with whom I discussed in detail my ideas respecting the relations between art and the state.  When at last I had succeeded in making them clear to the minister, our conversation closed with the fatal assertion that such an understanding with the supreme head of the state would always remain an impossibility, seeing that in his eyes art belonged merely to the realm of amusement.

In addition to Count Hatzfeld, the two other attaches, Prince Reuss and Count Donhoff, often shared these domestic gatherings.  The former seemed to be the politician of the company, and was particularly commended to me on account of the great and able efforts he had made on my behalf at the Imperial Court, while the latter simply appealed to me by his looks and by his attractive and open-hearted friendliness.  Here, too, I was again frequently brought into social contact with Prince and Princess Metternich, but I could not help noticing that a certain embarrassment marked our demeanour.  Owing to her energetic complicity in the fate of Tannhauser, Princess Pauline had not only been subjected to the coarsest handling by the press, but had also suffered the most ungallant and ill-natured treatment at the hands of so-called higher society.  Her husband seems to have borne all this very well, though doubtless he experienced many a bitter moment.  It was difficult for me now to understand what compensation the Princess could have found in a genuine sympathy for my art for all she had been obliged to endure.