smoking a cigarette. She received the young man with great
cordiality, telling him that his master had often spoken to her of him
most lovingly. Chopin entered soon after from an adjoining apartment,
and then they all went into the dining-room to have dinner. When they
were seated again in the cosy salon, and George Sand had lit another
cigarette, the conversation, which had touched on a variety of topics,
among the rest on Majorca, turned on art. It was then that the authoress
said to her friend: "Chop, Chop, show Gutmann my room that he may see
the pictures which Eugene Delacroix painted for me."

Chopin on arriving in Paris had taken up his lodgings in the Rue
Tronchet, No. 5, and resumed teaching. One of his pupils there was
Brinley Richards, who practised under him one of the books of studies.
Chopin also assisted the British musician in the publication, by
Troupenas, of his first composition, having previously looked over
and corrected it. Brinley Richards informed me that Chopin, who played
rarely in these lessons, making his corrections and suggestions rather
by word of mouth than by example, was very languid, indeed so much so
that he looked as if he felt inclined to lie down, and seemed to say: "I
wish you would come another time."

About this time, that is in the autumn or early in the winter of 1839,
Moscheles came to Paris. We learn from his diary that at Leo's, where
he liked best to play, he met for the first time Chopin, who had just
returned from the country, and whose acquaintance he was impatient
to make. I have already quoted what Moscheles said of Chopin's
appearance--namely, that it was exactly like [identificirt mit] his
music, both being delicate and dreamy [schwarmerisch]. His remarks on
his great contemporary's musical performances are, of course, still more
interesting to us.

He played to me at my request, and now for the first time I
understand his music, and can also explain to myself the
enthusiasm of the ladies. His ad libitum playing, which with
the interpreters of his music degenerates into disregard of
time, is with him only the most charming originality of
execution; the dilettantish harsh modulations which strike me
disagreeably when I am playing his compositions no longer
shock me, because he glides lightly over them in a fairy-like
way with his delicate fingers; his piano is so softly breathed
forth that he does not need any strong forte in order to
produc