“This has been the most perfect musical joy of my life, so forgive me if I say too much! “Well! this is one score saved at any rate. They can play it now in Vienna under Herbeck, who knows it by heart. “The Paris Conservatoire may leave me in outer darkness and stick to its antiquated repertoire if it likes. “You have drawn down this tirade on your own head by asking me to write! “Good-bye; I have been invited to Breslau to conduct _Romeo and Juliet_, but I must get back to Paris before the end of the month.” _To_ HUMBERT FERRAND. “PARIS, _11th January 1867_.--It is midnight, dear friend. I write in bed, as usual; you will read my letter in bed--also as usual. “Your last letter hurt me; I read the suffering between the lines. I wanted to reply at once, but my tortures, medical stupidity, doses of laudanum (all useless and productive only of evil dreams), prevented me. “I see now how difficult it will be for us to meet. You cannot stir, and for three quarters of the year I cannot either. What are we to do? “My journey to Vienna nearly made an end of me--even the warmth of their enthusiasm could not protect me from the rigours of their winter. This awful climate will be the death of me. “Dear Louis writes of his morning rides in the forests of Martinique, and describes the lovely tropical vegetation--the real hot sun. That is what you and I both need. “Dear friend, the dull rumbling of passing carriages breaks the silence of the night. Paris is damp, cold, and muddy--Parisian Paris! “Now all is still; it sleeps the sleep of the unrighteous. “Have you the full score of my _Mass for the Dead_? If I were threatened with the destruction of all that I have ever written, it would be for that Mass that I should beg life. “Good-bye; I shall lie awake and think of you.” _To_ FERDINAND HILLER. “PARIS, _8th February 1867_.--Dear Hiller,--You are the best of good friends! “I will do as you bid me; take my courage in both hands, and on the 23rd start for Cologne. “I shall be at the Hotel Royal by evening, but do not engage _rooms_ for me, one tiny one is enough. “If I cannot possibly travel, I will send on the orchestral score of the duet from _Beatrice_. It is very effective and not difficult--almost any singers could manage it, provided they were not geese. “To be sure, we both have an intimate acquaintance with these winged fowl! “You talk like the doctors. ‘It is neuralgia.’ “That is just like Madame Sand and her gardener. “She told him the garden wall had tumbled down. “‘Oh, it is nothing, madame, the frost did it.’ “‘Yes, but it must be rebuilt.’ “‘It’s only the frost, that’s all.’ “‘I do not say it is not the frost, but there it is on the ground.’