a." (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:

"_Ou est votre piano, chere 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_."

Very crestfallen, but undaunted, the Baroness cried, "But, Monseigneur,
you will not refuse, if only to play a scale--merely to _touch_ the
piano!"

But Liszt, as