t to entertain the idea
which Chopin had formed of taking up his abode near me. I
should not have hesitated to say "no," had I known then for
how short a time the retired life and the solemnity of the
country suited his moral and physical health. I still
attributed his despair and horror of Majorca to the excitement
of fever and the exces de caractere of that place. Nohant
offered pleasanter conditions, a less austere retreat,
congenial society, and resources in case of illness. Papet was
to him an enlightened and kind physician. Fleury, Duteil,
Duvernet, and their families, Planet, and especially Rollinat,
were dear to him at first sight. All of them loved him also,
and felt disposed to spoil him as I did.

Among those with whom the family at Nohant had much intercourse, and
who were frequent guests at the chateau, was also an old acquaintance
of ours, one who had not grown in wisdom as in age, I mean George Sand's
half-brother, Hippolyte Chatiron, who was now again living in Berry,
his wife having inherited the estate of Montgivray, situated only half a
league from Nohant.

His warmth of manner, his inexhaustible gaiety, the
originality of his sallies, his enthusiastic and naive
effusions of admiration for the genius of Chopin, the always
respectful deference which he showed to him alone, even in the
inevitable and terrible apres-boire, found favour with the
eminently-aristocratic artist. All, then, went very well at
first, and I entertained eventually the idea that Chopin might
rest and regain his health by spending a few summers with us,
his work necessarily calling him back to Paris in the winter.

However, the prospect of this kind of family union with a
newly-made friend caused me to reflect. I felt alarmed at the
task which I was about to undertake, and which I had believed
would be limited to the journey in Spain.

In short, George Sand presents herself as a sister of mercy, who,
prompted by charity, sacrifices her own happiness for that of another.
Contemplating the possibility of her son falling ill and herself being
thereby deprived of the joys of her work, she exclaims: "What hours
of my calm and invigorating life should I be able to devote to another
patient, much more difficult to nurse and comfort than Maurice?"

The discussion of this matter by George Sand is so characteristic of her
that, lengthy as it is, I cannot refrain from giving it in full.