"So be it, if you wish; but, whenever you want to write again on the
same terms, you will find me ready."
To tell the truth, the composer was discouraged by his want of
success, and wholly broken down by his numerous trials. He now
withdrew from all society, and, having hired a small room in an
out-of-the-way part of Milan, passed most of his time in reading the
worst books that could be found, rarely going out, unless occasionally
in the evening, never giving his attention to study of any kind, and
never touching the piano. Such was his life from October 1840 to
January 1841. One evening, early in the new year, while out walking,
he chanced to meet Merelli, who took him by the arm; and, as they
sauntered towards the theatre, the impresario told him that he was in
great trouble, Nicolai, who was to write an opera for him, having
refused to accept a _libretto_ entitled "Nabucco."