generally begged us to let him bathe; there he used to draw a
large crowd of spectators round him, who were so loud in their
enthusiasm about the way in which he dived for and brought to
land various objects of clothing, tools, etc., that the police
begged us to put an end to the obstruction. One morning I let him
out for a little run as usual; he never returned, and in spite of
our most strenuous efforts to recover him, no trace of him was to
be found. This loss seemed to many of our friends a piece of
luck, for they could not understand how it was possible for us to
feed such a huge animal when we ourselves had not enough to eat.
About this time, the second month of our stay in Paris, my sister
Louisa came over from Leipzig to join her husband, Friedrich
Brockhaus, in Paris, where he had been waiting for her for some
time. They intended to go to Italy together, and Louisa made use
of this opportunity to buy all kinds of expensive things in
Paris. I did not expect them to feel any pity for us on account
of our foolish removal to Paris, and its attendant miseries, or
that they should consider themselves bound to help us in any way;
but although we did not try to conceal our position, we derived
no benefit from the visit of our rich relations. Minna was even
kind enough to help my sister with her luxurious shopping, and we
were very anxious not to make them think we wanted to rouse their
pity. In return my sister introduced me to an extraordinary
friend of hers, who was destined to take a great interest in me.
This was the young painter, Ernst Kietz, from Dresden; he was an
exceptionally kind-hearted and unaffected young man, whose talent
for portrait painting (in a sort of coloured pastel style) had
made him such a favourite in his own town, that he had been
induced by his financial successes to come to Paris for a time to
finish his art studies. He had now been working in Delaroche's