citurnity, however, is neither modesty nor
sympathetic absorption in the discourse of another. She is
taciturn rather from haughtiness, because she does not think
you worth squandering her cleverness [Geist] upon, or even
from selfishness, because she endeavours to absorb the best of
your discourse in order to work it up afterwards in her works.
That out of avarice George Sand knows how never to give
anything and always to take something in conversation, is a
trait to which Alfred de Musset drew my attention. "This gives
her a great advantage over us," said Musset, who, as he had
for many years occupied the post of cavaliere servente to the
lady, had had the best opportunity to learn to know her
thoroughly. George Sand never says anything witty; she is
indeed one of the most unwitty Frenchwomen I know.

While admiring the clever drawing and the life-like appearance of
the portrait, we must, however, not overlook the exaggerations and
inaccuracies. The reader cannot have failed to detect the limner
tripping with regard to Musset, who occupied not many years but less
than a year the post of cavaliere servente. But who would expect
religious adherence to fact from Heine, who at all times distinguishes
himself rather by wit than conscientiousness? What he says of George
Sand's taciturnity in company and want of wit, however, must be true;
for she herself tells us of these negative qualities in the Histoire de
ma Vie.

The musical accomplishments of Chopin's beloved one have, of course, a
peculiar interest for us. Liszt, who knew her so well, informed me that
she was not musical, but possessed taste and judgment. By "not musical"
he meant no doubt that she was not in the habit of exhibiting her
practical musical acquirements, or did not possess these latter to any
appreciable extent. She herself seems to me to make too much of her
musical talents, studies, and knowledge. Indeed, her writings show
that, whatever her talents may have been, her taste was vague and her
knowledge very limited.

When we consider the diversity of character, it is not a matter for
wonder that Chopin was at first rather repelled than attracted by the
personality of George Sand. Nor is it, on the other hand, a matter for
wonder that her beauty and power of pleasing proved too strong for
his antipathy. How great this power of pleasing was when she wished to
exercise it, the reader may judge from the incident I shall now re