The grapes of Riond-Bosson were of surpassing sweetness and juiciness. One of their greatest admirers in later years was Paderewski’s devoted friend, Achille Ratti, the papal nuncio in Poland. Paderewski always made it a point to supply him with the first growth of these luscious grapes. Even when the papal diplomat took up permanent residence in Rome and could no longer visit at Riond-Bosson, he received his grapes. Border officials sometimes balked at passing the fruit through the customs, but what could a mere customs officer do when told that the grapes were a gift from the beloved Paderewski to his friend, Pope Pius XI. And when Paderewski went on tour, his wife was his constant companion, remaining in the dressing room while he played and doing everything in her power to shield him from the prickly harassments of concert work. The great happiness that came to him at his marriage was followed very shortly by a great but not unexpected sorrow. Paderewski, while playing in Spain, was called home by the news that Alfred had died. A lifetime of care, of watchful attention and special treatments had not been able to save him. At twenty, he was buried in the Cemetery of Montmorency in Paris, near the tomb of Chopin. For Paderewski, work had always been the surest antidote for grief. He now turned all of his energy to the finishing details of his opera, “Manru,” which was to be produced at the Dresden Opera in May, 1901. Eight years of work lay behind the premiere of “Manru,” which was shortly thereafter performed in many of the leading opera houses of Europe. The following winter the Metropolitan Opera in New York presented it with an all-star cast and included it in five cities of its annual tour. While the opera had, generally, a friendly reception, one critic remarked sourly, “What a pity that Paderewski is now composing, for he is no more a great pianist.” He stood firmly alone in his opinion. Paderewski had been the favorite pianist of Europe and North and South America long enough for the news of his greatness to spread clear around the world. In the spring of 1904 he set out on a tour of Australia. On this trip Paderewski’s baggage problem was complicated beyond memory. The Paderewski menage was enlarged by the addition of some forty parrots. Mme. Paderewska had a fondness for all types of birds, and the talking variety fascinated her. One of these animals became a special favorite of Paderewski’s. Named Cockey Roberts, he was, according to his master, “more than a parrot. He was a real artist in his way.” Paderewski’s particular delight was Cockey Roberts’ habit of perching on his foot during practice sessions. “He would sit perfectly still,” Paderewski recalled, “and then from time to time, he would say in a very loving and scratchy voice, ‘Oh! Lord, how beautiful!’ It was touching.”