roken up
a happy home" came to his ears from many sources. "They blame you and
you alone," a friend said to him.

"Good! good!" said Liszt, "I gladly bear it all."

George Sand, plain in feature, quiet in manner, soft and feminine when
she wished to be, yet possessing the mind of a man, went to Switzerland
to visit the runaway Liszt and the "Lady Arabella." At first thought,
one might suppose that such a visit, after the former relationship,
might have been a trifle embarrassing for both. But the fact that in the
interval George Sand had been crunching the soul of Chopin formed an
estoppel on the memory of all the soft sentiment that had gone before.
George Sand brought her two children, Maurice and Solange, and the "Lady
Arabella" had two of her own to keep them company. A little family party
was made up, and with a couple of servants and a guide, a little journey
was taken through the mountain villages, all in genuine gipsy style.
George Sand, who worked up all life, its sensations and emotions, into
good copy, has given us an account of the trip, that throws some very
interesting side-lights on the dramatis personae.

The recounter and her children were all clothed in peasant
costume--man-style, with blouses and trousers. Gipsy garbs were worn by
the servants, and Liszt was arrayed like a mountaineer, and carried a
reed pipe, upon which he, from time to time, awoke the echoes. When the
dusty, unkempt crew arrived at a village inn, the landlord usually made
hot haste to secrete his silverware. Once when a sudden rainstorm drove
the wayfarers into a church, Liszt took his seat at the organ and
played--played with such power and feeling that the village priest ran
out and called for the neighbors to come quickly, as the Angel Gabriel,
in the guise of a mountaineer, was playing the organ. Anthem, oratorio,
and sweet, subtle, soulful improvisation followed, and the villagers
knelt, and eyes were filled with tears. George Sand records that she
never heard such playing by the Master before; she herself wept, and yet
through her tears she managed to see a few things, and here is one
picture which she gives us: "The Lady Arabella sat on the balustrade,
swinging one foot, and cast her proud and melancholy gaze over the lower
nave, and waited in vain for the celestial voices that were supposed to
vibrate in her bosom.

"Her abundant light hair, disheveled by the wind and rain, fell in
bewildering disorder, and her eyes, ref