Some days after this there was a large dinner given by the German Ambassador (Herr von Keudell) for the Princess Frederick Carl. Liszt and many others, including ourselves, were present. The Ambassador allowed the gentlemen only a short time to smoke; he gave them good but small cigars. I do not know how the great Master liked this, for he is a fervent smoker. However, as _le charbonnier est maître chez lui_, our host had his way and the music commenced, as he wished, very soon after dinner. Both the Ambassador and his wife are perfect pianists. They play four-hand pieces on two pianos. On this occasion, to do honor to the famous composer, they grappled with a formidable work by Liszt, called "Mazeppa." (I fancy that Liszt is a little like Rossini, who used to say, "_Jouez pour moi toute autre chose que ma musique_.") Mazeppa's wild scampering over the two keyboards made our hair stand on end, but the Master dozed off in peaceful slumber and only waked up and cried "Bravo!" when Mazeppa had finished careering and the two pianists were wiping their perspiring brows. Liszt begged the Princess to whistle, and opened his book of _Lieder_ at "_Es muss ein wunderbares sein_" (a lovely song) and said, "Can you whistle that?" Yes, she could; and did it very carefully and in a _wunderbares_ manner. Liszt was astonished and delighted. Then Liszt played. Each time I hear him I say, "Never has he played like this." How can a person surpass himself? Liszt does. He had the music of "_Comment disaient ils?_" in the same book and begged me to sing it. "Do you think," he said, "you could add this little cadenza at the end?" And he played it for me. "I think so," I said. "It does not seem very difficult," and hummed it. "I had better write it for you," he said, "so that you will not forget it." And he took out his visiting-card and wrote it on the back. (I send it to you.) [Illustration: FROM F. LISZT Handwritten music score.] Liszt is not always as amiable as this. He resents people counting on his playing. When Baroness K. inveigled him into promising to take tea with her because he knew her father, she, on his accepting, invited a lot of friends, holding out hopes that Liszt would play. She pushed the piano into the middle of the room--no one could have possibly failed to see it. Every one was on the _qui vive_ when Liszt arrived, and breathless with anticipation. Liszt, who had had many surprises of this sort, I imagine, saw the situation at a glance. After several people had been presented to him, Liszt, with his most captivating smile, said to the hostess: "_Où est votre piano, chère madame?_" and looked all about for the piano, though it was within an inch of his nose. "Oh, Monseigneur! Would you, really...?" advancing toward the piano triumphantly. "You are too kind. I never should have dared to ask you." And, waving her hand toward it, "_Here_ is the piano!" "Ah," said Liszt, who loves a joke, "_c'est vrai. Je voulais y poser mon chapeau_."