He quarrelled with the D'Agoult and they parted bad friends. Under the
pen name of Daniel Stern she attacked Liszt in her souvenirs and novels.
He forgave her. They met in Paris once, in the year 1860. He gently told
her that the title of the souvenirs should have been "Poses et
Mensonges." She wept. Tragic comedians, both. They were bored with one
another; their union recalls the profound reflection of Flaubert, that
Emma Bovary found in adultery all the platitudes of marriage. Perhaps
other ladies had supervened. Like Byron, Liszt was the sentimental hero
of the day, a Chateaubriand Rene of the keyboard. Balzac put him in a
book, so did George Sand. All the painters and sculptors, Delaroche and
Ary Scheffer among others made his portrait. Nevertheless, his head was
not turned, and when, after an exile of a few years, Thalberg had
conquered Paris in his absence, he returned and engaged in an ivory
duel, at the end worsting his rival. Thalberg was the first pianist in
Europe, contended every one. And the Belgiojoso calmly remarked that
Liszt was the only one. After witnessing the Paderewski worship of
yesterday nothing related of Liszt should surprise us.
[Illustration: Daniel Liszt