After dinner the Duchess de Vallombrosa begged her to sing; but she flatly refused, and there was no other music, thank heaven! I was presented to her, in spite of her too evident dislike for new acquaintances; but when she heard that I sang she seemed more amiable and interested. She even asked me to come to see her the next day. "That is," she said, "if you can climb my hill." I told her that I was sure I could climb her hill, and would, even if I had to climb on all fours. After having been on the glaring Mediterranean all day I could hardly keep my eyes open, and retired before the last carriage had driven away. The next morning I looked out of my window and saw our yacht dancing on the sparkling waves. We expected to leave for Spezia that afternoon. At eleven o'clock, the hour appointed, I commenced my pilgrimage to the hill of the "Swedish nightingale," with what emotion, I can hardly tell you! I left the carriage at the foot of the hill, and climbed and climbed, until I reached the heaven where the angel lived. It was the reverse of Jacob's dream. His angel climbed down to him, whereas I had to climb up to mine. She always used a donkey for her climbings. She received me very cordially, saying, "I welcome you to my _bicoque_," and led me through a few badly furnished rooms with hay- stuffed sofas and hard, uncompromising chairs and queer-looking tables painted in red and green out on to the veranda, which commanded a magnificent view over the sea and the Esterel Mountains. I wish you could have seen her! She was dressed in a white brocade trimmed with a piece of red silk around the bottom, a red, blousy waist covered with gold heads sewed fantastically over it, perhaps odds and ends of old finery, and gold shoes! Just fancy, at eleven o'clock in the morning! We talked music. She hated Verdi and all he had made, she hated Rossini and all he had made; she hated the French; she hated the Americans; she abhorred the very name of Barnum, who, she said, "exhibited me just as he did the big giant or any other of his monstrosities." "But," said I, "you must not forget how you were idolized and appreciated in America. Even as a child I can remember how they worshiped Jenny Lind." "Worshiped or not," she answered, sharply, "I was nothing more than a show in a showman's hands; I can never forget that." We sat on her veranda, and she told me all about her early life and her musical career. She said she was born in 1820, and when only ten years old she used to sing in cafes in Stockholm. At seventeen she sang "Alice" in "Robert-le-Diable"! Then we talked of our mutual teacher, dear Garcia, of whom she took lessons in 1841 and whom, for a wonder, she liked. At the _Rhein-fest_ given for Queen Victoria in 1844 she said that she had had a great success, and that Queen Victoria had always been a friend to her since that time. I asked her when she first sang in London.