Wagner's operas, which lay about on our tables, all seem to have been given by him to _meinem lieben Freund_, the doctor. How I regret that dishonesty did not get the upper hand! How easy it would have been for me to have purloined a book and its signature, but I am proud to say that I resisted, and my collection of autographs is to this day devoid of anything from Richard Wagner, showing that virtue is not always its own reward, since I regret having been virtuous. The off days were also delightful. We drove to the Hermitage, lingered in the grounds belonging to the gentle and clever Margräfin, and wondered if her tiny little court was not a trifle _ennuyenx_! One could fancy her sitting under the shady trees of the _charmille_, sewing beads on some bags, specimens of which were exhibited to us by an officious menial, and were of the most hideous description. I say hideous because I hate beads and all their works. I have just finished reading her memoirs, and I can only think how small their talk must have been--how narrow their visions! We drove to the other pretty resort, Bellevue, and meandered about the rococco gardens, and sat on the stone benches surrounding the lake, and watched the graceful movements of the swans as they tried to avoid the spray from the fountains. We tried not to see the native music-lovers who clustered in crowds about the tables, which were covered with red checker-board table-covers and drinking-mugs. They sit under these lovely shady groves for hours, in their thick coats, which they wear in any season and in any climate, their ponderous field-glasses slung over their fat shoulders and their pockets bulging with guide-books and postal cards, swallowing by barrelfuls the cool and beloved beer and eating _Butterbrod_ by platefuls. On Saturday evenings Madame Wagner--called familiarly Frau Cosima--opens her _salon_, and every one goes who can get an invitation. There is generally music, and the best-artists from the Opera-house are delighted to sing. Also the inevitable pianist who is "the finest interpreter of Chopin." (Did you ever know one who was not?) Very interesting evenings, these, because one sees all the notabilities that flock to Bayreuth. Princes, plebeians, and artists meet here in the limitless brotherhood of music.