ut always
remained devoted.

Love for women was destined to play a large part in the inner life of
Chopin. The first awakening of this feeling came from his admiration
of Constantia Gladowska, a beautiful girl and vocal pupil at the
Conservatory at Warsaw. Strangely enough he admired the young lady for
some time at a distance, and if report be true, never really declared
himself to her. But she filled his thoughts by day, and he confessed
to dreaming of her each night. When she made her debut in opera, he
hung on every note she sang and rejoiced in her success but did not
make his feelings known to her. All this pent-up emotion was confined
to his piano, in impassioned improvisations.

Seeing no suitable field for his genius in Warsaw and realizing he
ought to leave home and strike out for himself, he yet delayed making
the break. He continued putting off the evil day of parting from home
and friends, and especially putting a wide distance between himself
and the object of his adoration, Constantia.

The two years of indecision were fruitful in producing much piano
music and in completing the beautiful E minor Concerto, which was
rehearsed with orchestra and was performed at the third and last
concert he ever gave in Warsaw. This concert was arranged for October
11, 1830. Chopin requested Constantia Gladowska, whom he had never
met, to sing an aria. In the success of the evening sorrow was
forgotten. He wrote to his friend: "Miss Gladowska wore a white gown
with roses in her hair and was wondrously beautiful; she had never
sung so well."

After this event, Chopin decided the time had come for him to depart.
His trunk was bought, his clothing ready, pocket-handkerchiefs hemmed;
in fact nothing remained but the worst of all, the leave-taking. On
November I, 1830, Elsner and a number of friends accompanied him to
Wola, the first village beyond Warsaw. There they were met by a group
of students from the Conservatory, who sang a cantata, composed by
Elsner for the occasion. Then there was a banquet. During this last
meal together, a silver goblet filled with Polish earth was presented
to Chopin in the name of them all.

We can imagine the tender leave-takings after that. "I am convinced,"
he said, "I am saying an eternal farewell to my native country; I have
a presentiment I shall never return." And so indeed it proved.

Again to Vienna, by way of Breslau, Dresden and Prague. In Vienna
all was not as rosy as it had b