I longed to find myself alone with the idol of my soul. I asked her a
hundred questions without waiting for the answers.

"Ah! you were right, my own Henriette, when you refused to go to that
concert, for you knew that you would raise many enemies against me. I am
certain that all those men hate me, but what do I care? You are my
universe! Cruel darling, you almost killed me with your violoncello,
because, having no idea of your being a musician, I thought you had gone
mad, and when I heard you I was compelled to leave the room in order to
weep undisturbed. My tears relieved my fearful oppression. Oh! I entreat
you to tell me what other talents you possess. Tell me candidly, for you
might kill me if you brought them out unexpectedly, as you have done this
evening."

"I have no other accomplishments, my best beloved. I have emptied my bag
all at once. Now you know your Henriette entirely. Had you not chanced to
tell me about a month ago that you had no taste for music, I would have
told you that I could play the violoncello remarkably well, but if I had
mentioned such a thing, I know you well enough to be certain that you
would have bought an instrument immediately, and I could not, dearest,
find pleasure in anything that would weary you."

The very next morning she had an excellent violoncello, and, far from
wearying me, each time she played she caused me a new and greater
pleasure. I believe that it would be impossible even to a man disliking
music not to become passionately fond of it, if that art were practised
to perfection by the woman he adores.

The 'vox humana' of the violoncello; the king of instruments, went to my