one it meekly,
apologetically.

But, to be fair, I must add in conclusion that she could be very
friendly too, and playful in her way. It would be ungrateful of me not
to record how she greeted me with "Bon soir, cher amour," one evening.
But that was at Wieniawski's wedding, and I suppose the darts of Cupid
were flying about.

As far as I could judge, she made that illustrious husband of hers an
excellent wife; she knew what he liked, and she took care that he had
it, whether it was a favourite dish or a favoured visitor; and, what was
more, she knew whom to keep at a distance, a valuable quality in the
wife of a man whom every musician, good or bad, professional or
amateur, wanted to know, and who was besieged by autograph-hunters,
interviewers, and the host of nondescripts who are ever anxious to cling
to the tail of Pegasus.

I have known more than one wife of that most useful genus, and have not
always quite liked their methods; as when, on one occasion, I had run
over to Paris, I called on an old friend, also a great composer. His
better half, who always jealously guarded the approaches, espied me from
the top of a high staircase. "Ah, c'est vous, Monsieur Felix," she cried
with genuine delight. "Comme cela se trouve bien; justement j'ai un
paquet a envoyer a Londres." I had a long and interesting chat with the
master, in exchange for which I gladly took Madame's most undesirable
parcel.

In the summer of 1860 my father made a short stay in Paris. He was most
cordially welcomed by friends and colleagues, amongst these the Erards,
Viardots, Cremieux, Auber, Ambroise Thomas, and Rossini. The Maestro was
at that time staying at his villa in Passy. Referring to his first visit
there, my father writes:--

"Felix had been made quite at home in the villa on former occasions. To
me the Salon on the ground floor with its rich furniture was new, and,
before the Maestro himself appeared, we looked at his photograph in a
circular porcelain frame, on the sides of which were inscribed the names
of his works. The ceiling is covered with pictures illustrating scenes
in the lives of Palestrina and Mozart; in the middle of the room stands
a Pleyel piano.

"When Rossini came in, he gave me the orthodox Italian kiss, and was
effusive in expressing his delight at my reappearance, and very
complimentary on the subject of Felix. In the course of our conversation
he was full of hard-hitting truths and brilliant satire on the pres