however, to one weakness--insatiable love for music--and begged his
master to be allowed the privilege of sitting in the room during the
practising hours. When a concert was given Daniel went to the hall and
arranged all that was necessary for the pianist's comfort. Mychowski
caught him at a recital one night with a score of the F minor Ballade of
Chopin, and warm and irritable as he was, for he had just played the
work, he could not refrain from asking his servant how it had pleased
him. Daniel shook his head gently. Mychowski stared at him curiously,
with chagrin. Then a lot of women rushed in to congratulate the artist,
but stopped to stare aghast at Daniel.

"Ah, M. Mychowski!"--it was the beautiful Countess d'Angers--"We know
now why you play Chopin so wonderfully, for have you not his ghost here
to tell you everything? Naughty magician, why have you not come to me on
my evenings? You surely received cards!" Mychowski looked so annoyed at
the jest that Daniel slipped out of the room and did not appear until
the carriage was ready....

At the cafe where Mychowski invariably went for his macaroni Daniel
usually had a place at the table. The pianist was easy in his manners,
and not finding his man presumptuous he made him a companion. They had
both eaten in silence, Mychowski gluttonously. Looking at Daniel and
drinking a glass of chianti, he said in his most jocular manner:

"Eh bien, mon brave! now tell me why you didn't like my F minor
Ballade." Daniel lifted his eyes slowly to the other's face and smiled
faint protestation. Mychowski would take no refusal. He swore in Polish
and called out in lusty tones, "Come now, Daniel Chopin, what didn't you
like, the tempo, the conception, the coda, or my touch?"

"Your playing, cher maitre, was yourself. No one can do what you can,"
answered Daniel evasively.

"Hoity-toity! What have we here, a critic in disguise?" said Mychowski
good humoredly, yet at heart greatly troubled. "Do you know what the
pupils of Chopin say of my interpretation?" Daniel again shook his head.

"They know nothing about Chopin or his music," he calmly replied. A
thunderbolt had fallen at Mychowski's feet and he was affrighted. Know
nothing of Chopin or his music? Here was a pretty presumption. "Pray,
Daniel," he managed to gasp out, "pray how does your lordship happen to
know so much about Chopin and his music?" Mychowski was becoming angry.
In a stifled voice Daniel replied:

"Dear master,