In music his preferences were as eclectic as in pictures. Liszt, whom he thought ridiculous as a man, he considered superb as a musician --the Paganini of the piano, yet inferior to Chopin, since he had not the genius of composition. And, in singing, Rubini was his idol --Rubini who triumphed in the role of Othello, giving the suspicion _air_ in a manner no one could equal. It intoxicated him to hear this tenor with Tamburini, Lablache, and Madame Grisi; while Nourrit's song, _Ce Rameau qui donne la Puissance et l'Immortalite_ in _Robert le Diable_ made his flesh creep. It yielded a glimpse of life with all its dreams satisfied. Originally intending to start for St. Petersburg early in June, Balzac was not able to leave Paris until a month later. As usual, filthy lucre had to do with his tarrying. In spite of a loan of 11,500 francs from lawyer Gavault--his guardian, the novelist called him--who for the privilege of the great man's friendship had been endeavouring during the two years past to introduce a little order into his affairs, he had not available cash enough for a trip so far, and stayed on, hoping to finish his _David Sechard_,* which was running as a serial in the _Etat_, and his _Esther_,[*] appearing similarly in the _Parisien_. June he spent at Lagny, where his manuscripts were being printed, in order to correct the proofs and get his money. But the _Etat_ ceased issue while he was there; and the _Parisien_, being in parlous condition, refused likewise to pay up, so that he had to go off with a thinner-lined pocket than he had expected. Otherwise, he was in a fitting state of grace to meet his fair tyrant, whose envelope lectures had brought him into fear of her and at least outward obedience. [*] Part of the _Lost Illusions_.