of Bagdad had been hissed by the Weimar public when Liszt had conducted it in person some time previously.  Besides this, I could of course see that Liszt had much to bear in other directions.  He admitted to me that he had been trying to induce the Grand Duke of Weimar to show me some particular mark of distinction.  He first wanted him to invite me, with himself, to dine at court, but as the Duke had qualms about entertaining a person who was still exiled from the kingdom of Saxony as a political refugee, Liszt thought he could at least get me the Order of the White Falcon.  This too was refused him, and as his exertions at court had been so fruitless, he was bent on making the townsmen of the Residency do their part in celebrating my presence.  A torchlight procession was accordingly arranged, but when I heard of it I took all possible pains to thwart the plan—­and succeeded.  But I was not to get off without any ovation at all.  One afternoon Justizrath Gille of Jena and six students grouped themselves under my window, and sang a nice little choral society song, for which attention I thanked them most warmly.  A contrast to this was presented by the great banquet attended by all the musical artists.  I sat between Blandine and Ollivier, and the feast developed into a really hearty ovation for the composer of Tannhauser and Lohengrin, whom they now ’welcomed back to Germany after he had won their love and esteem during his banishment.’  Liszt’s speech was short but vigorous, and I had to respond in greater detail to another speaker.  Very pleasant were the select gatherings which on several occasions met round Liszt’s own dinner-table, and I thought of the absent hostess of Altenburg at one of them.  Once we had our meal in the garden, and I had the pleasure of seeing my good friend Alwine Frommann there conversing intelligently with Ollivier, as a reconciliation with Liszt had taken place.

The day for parting was drawing near for us all, after a week of very varied and exciting experiences.  A happy chance enabled me to make the greater part of my prearranged journey to Vienna in the company of Blandine and Ollivier, who had decided to visit Cosima at Reichenhall, where she was staying for a ‘cure.’  As we were all saying good-bye to Liszt on the railway platform, we thought of Bulow, who had distinguished himself so remarkably in the past few days.  He had started a day in advance, and we exhausted ourselves in singing his praises, though I added with jesting familiarity, ’There was no necessity for him to marry Cosima.’  And Liszt added, bowing slightly, ‘That was a luxury.’

We travellers—­Blandine and I, that is—­soon fell into a frivolous mood which was much intensified by Ollivier’s query, repeated after each burst of laughter, ‘Qu’est-ce qu’il dit?’ He had to submit good-humouredly to our continuous joking in German, though we always responded in French to his frequent demands for tonique or jambon cru, which seemed to form the staple of his diet.