In the month of May we went to Moscow, and it was there I heard Schumann’s Variations for two pianos played by Mme. Schumann and Nicolas Rubinstein. The latter was an admirable pianist, gifted with great delicacy and depth of feeling, and if without the fiery, almost demoniacal, inspiration that distinguished his brother’s playing, this for the duet on two pianos was rather an advantage than otherwise. After that several years passed before I saw Mme. Schumann again, and then it being announced that she would appear at a concert in Cologne with Stockhausen, my mother and I went over for it. We went early in the day, so as to be in time for the last rehearsal, but at this we had the disappointment of not hearing Mme. Schumann, for she had met with a slight accident, which obliged her to rest till the evening, and her place at the piano was taken by Brahms. In spite of her absence, it was all the same a most interesting rehearsal. I had the pleasure of hearing Brahms play and Stockhausen sing, and enjoyed everything immensely. I could not help noticing, however, that my mother’s thoughts were entirely elsewhere, and it annoyed me that she should let anything distract her attention from the glorious music. Nor did we stay quite to the end, much to my disappointment, but drove off to the Flora-garden, and lunched there. And as we sat there, I could not help noticing that we seemed to attract the attention of a little group of gentlemen, strangers, as I thought them, who were walking up and down, and one of whom at last seated himself at a little table quite close to ours, looking at me so hard, that I slightly turned away from him. But when we rose to leave, they all three came up to us, and we recognised Herr von Werner, whose acquaintance we had made at Prince Hohenzollern’s whilst his two companions were none other than the young Prince of Roumania, and the latter’s representative in Paris, the last mentioned being the gentleman who had just been observing me so closely. But I was sincerely glad to meet the young Prince again, for I had seen much of him in Berlin some years before, and was full of admiration for the adventurous spirit and strong sense of duty in which he had entered on his task in his new country. So I welcomed with pleasure the opportunity of talking to him again, and walked on ahead with him, discussing all sorts of things, my mother following with the two other gentlemen. We wandered from the “Flora” to the Zoological Gardens, and after a long hunt for the monkey house, found the little creatures already installed in their winter quarters. I remember holding out my hand to one of them, rather to the horror of the Prince, who protested against seeing my finger clasped in the rough little brown paw. But the time had passed so quickly, and I found my companion’s conversation so interesting,--(he said afterwards that I told him his political views were quite Machiavellian!)--two hours had gone by before we got into the carriage