I confess to seeing very little of the country I was visiting. I remember at the first halting-place a trout upon which Wagner made a frightful pun, which I shall not translate. Then came the steamboat which conveyed us to Zurich, where the master was welcomed by the populace as a well-loved king; a mountain was climbed, a sail followed; but all is confused. What has ever remained in my memory is the charm of those days, passed in such glorious intimacy, his gentle gayety and simplicity, the attentive cares, the art of organizing everything for one's greatest comfort and pleasure. He was the first to rise and awake the more slothful ones, and he hummed the Marseillaise as he tapped upon our doors. Once again at Lucerne Wagner confessed that he had been suffering during the greater part of the journey, but had been careful to say nothing lest he should spoil our pleasure. It was with sincere regret that I finally took leave of my hosts, being, however, somewhat consoled by the promise that I should often receive news from Tribscheu, a promise which has been faithfully kept. I returned there the following year, 1870, being at Lucerne when the war was declared. It was evident with his ardent character that Wagner could not fail to be deeply impressed by this event. The idea of a united Germany impassioned him, and I confess that I should have loved him less had he not experienced, like all of us, in these crises the inspirations of patriotism. It was deemed expedient, however, not to touch upon dangerous questions, where we could not possibly agree, but to remain prudently in the regions of art, where we so entirely understood one another. By this method the events which made us opponents could not disturb our friendship. Returned to Paris, the last letter which I received from him was dated the 5th of September. It informed me of the baptism of his son, to whom I stood god-mother, but alas, at a distance. "At the moment of the benediction," he wrote, "a storm burst upon us with flashes of lightning and loud peals of thunder. It appears that the thunder claps will play their part in the life of this terrible child. I myself like such celestial auguries, while I hold in aversion those terrestrial blows which have deprived us of your presence. I keep to our silence so sensibly agreed upon. But happily there is a region of existence where we are and always shall remain friends. All that separates us, even in our opinions upon things which belong to this region, can only contribute to draw us in time nearer and more intimately together." The horrible tempest once calmed, we met again with the same sentiments, each continuing to reserve his own opinions. In 1872 Lucerne was abandoned for Bayreuth; the great project so long cherished of the theatre built after Wagner's ideas was at last to be realized. The 22d of April Madame Wagner wrote me: "One last word from Tribscheu, my dear friend, which we leave with full hearts and troubled minds.