e, to the dinner which our countrymen give to-
day to Ramorino and Langermann...Your letter contained much
that was news to me; you have written me four pages and
thirty-seven lines--in all my life you have never been so
liberal to me, and I stood in need of something of the kind,
I stood indeed very much in need of it.

What you write about my artistic career is very true, and I
myself am convinced of it.

I drive in my own equipage, only the coachman is hired.

I shall close, because otherwise I should be too late for the
post, for I am everything in one person, master and servant.
Take pity on me and write as often as possible!--Yours unto
death,

FREDERICK.

In the postscript of this letter Chopin's light fancy gets the better of
his heavy heart; in it all is fun and gaiety. First he tells his friend
of a pretty neighbour whose husband is out all day and who often invites
him to visit and comfort her. But the blandishments of the fair one were
of no avail; he had no taste for adventures, and, moreover, was afraid
to be caught and beaten by the said husband. A second love-story is told
at greater length. The dramatis personae are Chopin, John Peter Pixis,
and Francilla Pixis, a beautiful girl of sixteen, a German orphan whom
the pianist-composer, then a man of about forty-three, had adopted, and
who afterwards became known as a much-admired singer. Chopin made their
acquaintance in Stuttgart, and remarks that Pixis said that he intended
to marry her. On his return to Paris Pixis invited Chopin to visit him;
the latter, who had by this time forgotten pretty Francilla, was in no
hurry to call. What follows must be given in Chopin's own words:--

Eight days after the second invitation I went to his house,
and accidentally met his pet on the stairs. She invited me to
come in, assuring me it did not matter that Mr. Pixis was not
at home; meanwhile I was to sit down, he would return soon,
and so on. A strange embarrassment seized both of us. I made
my excuses--for I knew the old man was very jealous--and said
I would rather return another time. While we were talking
familiarly and innocently on the staircase, Pixis came up,
looking over his spectacles in order to see who was speaking
above to his bella. He may not have recognised us at once,
quickened his steps, stopped before us, and said to her
harshly: "Qu'est-ce que vous faites ici?" and