lecting the finest hue of the
firmament, seemed to be wandering over the realm of God's creation after
each sigh of the huge organ, played by the divine Liszt.

"'This is not what I expected,' said she to me languidly.

"'Ah, that is what you said of the mountain peaks and the glacier,
yesterday,' said I."

It will be seen, by those who have read between the lines, that George
Sand did not much like "the fair Lady Arabella of the wondrous length of
limb." In passing, it is well to note, in way of apology for this
allusion as to "length of limb," that George Sand was once spoken of by
Heine as "a dumpy-duodecimo." It is to be regretted that we have no
description of George Sand by the Lady Arabella.

Years passed in study and writing, with occasional concert tours,
wherein the public flocked to hear the greatest pianist of his time. The
power, grasp and insight of the man increased with the years, and
wherever he deigned to play, the public was not slow in giving him that
approbation which his masterly work deserved. Liszt was one of the Elect
Few who train on. On these short concert trips his wife (for such she
must certainly be regarded) seldom accompanied him--this in deference to
his wish, and this, it seems, was the first and last and only cause of
dissension between them.

The Countess was born for a career and her spirit chafed at the forced
retirement in which she lived.

Ten years had gone by and three children had been born to her and Liszt.
One of these, a boy, died in youth, but one of the daughters became, as
we know, the wife of Richard Wagner, and the other daughter married
Oliver Emile Ollivier, the eminent statesman and man of letters--member
of the Cabinet in that memorable year, Eighteen Hundred Seventy, when
France declared war on Germany. Both of these daughters of Liszt were
women of rare mentality and splendid worth, true daughters of their
father.

Position is a pillory; sometimes the populace will pelt you with
rose-leaves--at others, with ancient vegetables. Liszt believed that for
his wife's peace of mind, and his own, she should not crowd herself too
much to the front--he feared what the mob might say or do. We can not
say that she was jealous of his fame, nor he of hers. However, as a
writer she was winning her way. But the fateful day came when the wife
said, "From this day on I must everywhere stand by your side, your wife
and your equal, or we must part."

They parted.

Liszt m