I received a very queer letter the day Liszt dined here. I copy it for you. It was from the Princess W----, a lady whose friendship he renounced when he took holy orders. I hear that you are going to have the Master (_le Maître_) to dine at your house. I beg of you to see that he does not sit in a draught of air, or that the cigar he will smoke will not be too strong, and the coffee he drinks will be weak, for he cannot sleep after, and please see that he is brought safely to his apartment. Yours, etc., etc. * * * * * All these instructions were carried out to the letter. On another occasion Liszt wrote to me that he would bring some of his songs to try over at five o'clock. I inclose his letter. What a chance, thought I, for me to give pleasure to some of my friends who I knew were longing to see him. Although he had said _entre nous_ in his letter, and I knew that he really wanted to look through the songs alone with me, I could not resist the temptation--though it was such rank disobedience--and said to them: "Liszt is coming to me at five o'clock. If you would like to hear him, and consent to be hidden behind a door, I will invite you." They all accepted with rapture, and were assembled in the little _salon_ before the time appointed. The door was left open and a large screen placed before it. Johan fetched Liszt in our carriage, as he always does. I received him and the book of _Lieder_, which he brought with him. (Only Johan and Nina were present.) He opened the book at "_Comment disaient ils?_"--one of his most beautiful songs, which has an exquisite but very difficult accompaniment. He played with fairy fingers, and we went over it several times. I could see the screen swerving and waving about; but Liszt's back was turned, so he could not see it. After we had finished tea was served, and then he said, "Have you heard my 'Rigoletto'?" "Yes," I said, "but not by you." "Well," he said, "I will play it for you. Your piano is better than the one I have. It is a pleasure to play on it." The screen, now alive with emotion, almost tipped over. After "Rigoletto" he played "_Les soirées de Vienne_," and this time the screen actually did topple over and exposed to view the group of ladies huddled behind it. I shuddered to think how the Master would take this horrible treachery. He took it better than I expected--in fact, he laughed outright. The ladies came forward and were presented to him, and were delighted. I am sure that Liszt was, too; at any rate, he laughed so much at my ruse and contrition that the tears rolled down his cheeks. He wiped them away with his pocket-handkerchief, which had an embroidered "F.L." in the corner. This he left behind, and I kept it as a souvenir.