knows already the rest of the letter; it is the passage in
which Chopin's love of fun gets the better of his melancholy, his joyous
spirits of his sad heart, and where he warns his friend, as it were with
a bright twinkle in his tearful eyes and a smile on his face, not to
kiss him at that moment, as he must wash himself. This joking about
his friend's dislike to osculation is not without an undercurrent of
seriousness; indeed, it is virtually a reproach, but a reproach cast in
the most delicate form and attired in feminine coquetry.

On September 18, 1830, Chopin is still in Warsaw. Why he is still there
he does not know; but he feels unspeakably happy where he is, and his
parents make no objections to this procrastination.

To-morrow I shall hold a rehearsal [of the E minor Concerto]
with quartet, and then drive to--whither? Indeed, I do not
feel inclined to go anywhere; but I shall on no account stay
in Warsaw. If you have, perhaps, a suspicion that something
dear to me retains me here, you are mistaken, like many
others. I assure you I should be ready to make any sacrifice
if only my own self were concerned, and I--although I am in
love--had yet to keep my unfortunate feelings concealed in my
bosom for some years to come.

Is it possible to imagine anything more inconsistent and self-delusive
than these ravings of our friend? Farther on in this very lengthy
epistle we come first of all once more to the pending question.

I was to start with the Cracow post for Vienna as early as
this day week, but finally I have given up that idea--you
will understand why. You may be quite sure that I am no
egoist, but, as I love you, am also willing to sacrifice
anything for the sake of others. For the sake of others, I
say, but not for the sake of outward appearance. For public
opinion, which is in high esteem among us, but which, you may
be sure, does not influence me, goes even so far as to call
it a misfortune if one wears a torn coat, a shabby hat, and
the like. If I should fail in my career, and have some day
nothing to eat, you must appoint me as clerk at Poturzyn.
There, in a room above the stables, I shall be as happy as I
was last summer in your castle. As long as I am in vigour and
health I shall willingly continue to work all my life. I have
often considered the question, whether I am really lazy or
whether I could work more without overexer