wine merchant's, situated on the main road to Paris at half an
hour's distance from Boulogne. We next provided scanty but
adequate furniture, and in bringing our wits to bear upon this
matter Minna particularly distinguished herself. Besides a bed
and two chairs, we dug up a table, which, after I had cleared
away my Rienzi papers, served for our meals, which we had to
prepare at our own fireside.

While we were here I made my first call on Meyerbeer. I had often
read in the papers of his proverbial amiability, and bore him no
ill-will for not replying to my letter. My favourable opinion was
soon to be confirmed, however, by his kind reception of me. The
impression he made was good in every respect, particularly as
regards his appearance. The years had not yet given his features
the flabby look which sooner or later mars most Jewish faces, and
the fine formation of his brow round about the eyes gave him an
expression of countenance that inspired confidence. He did not
seem in the least inclined to depreciate my intention of trying
my luck in Paris as a composer of opera; he allowed me to read
him my libretto for Rienzi, and really listened up to the end of
the third act. He kept the two acts that were complete, saying
that he wished to look them over, and assured me, when I again
called on him, of his whole-hearted interest in my work. Be this
as it may, it annoyed me somewhat that he should again and again
fall back on praising my minute handwriting, an accomplishment he
considered especially Saxonian. He promised to give me letters of
recommendation to Duponchel, the manager of the Opera House, and
to Habeneck, the conductor. I now felt that I had good cause to
extol my good fortune which, after many vicissitudes, had sent me
precisely to this particular spot in France. What better fortune