the beautiful fetes at Compiegne, where anybody of any distinction in
any branch of art or literature was invited. Hatzfeldt led the
conversation to some evenings when Strauss played his waltzes with an
entrain, a sentiment that no one else has ever attained, and to
Offenbach and his melodies--one evening particularly when he had
improvised a song for the Empress--he couldn't quite remember it. If
there were a piano--he looked about. There was none apparently. "Oh,
yes, in a corner, but so many things upon it, it was evidently never
meant to be opened." He moved toward it, Liszt following, asking
Comtesse A. if it could be opened. The things were quickly removed.
Hatzfeldt sat down and played a few bars in rather a halting fashion.
After a moment Liszt said: "No, no, it is not quite that." Hatzfeldt got
up. Liszt seated himself at the piano, played two or three bits of
songs, or waltzes, then, always talking to Hatzfeldt, let his fingers
wander over the keys and by degrees broke into a nocturne and a wild
Hungarian march. It was very curious; his fingers looked as if they
were made of yellow ivory, so thin and long, and of course there wasn't
any strength or execution in his playing--it was the touch of an old
man, but a master--quite unlike anything I have ever heard. When he got
up, he said: "Oh, well, I didn't think the old fingers had any music
left in them." We tried to thank him, but he wouldn't listen to us,
immediately talked about something else. When he had gone we
complimented the ambassador on the way in which he had managed the
thing. Hatzfeldt was a charming colleague, very clever, very musical, a
thorough man of the world. I was always pleased when he was next to me
at dinner--I was sure of a pleasant hour. He had been many years in
Paris during the brilliant days of the Empire, knew everybody there
worth knowing. He had the reputation, notwithstanding his long stay in
Paris, of being very anti-French. I could hardly judge of that, as he
never talked politics to me. It may very likely have been true, but not