“Thus living in a crowd, I am utterly, cruelly alone and am parched for want of music.
“No longer can I look forward to my evening’s pleasure with Mademoiselle Louise and her piano; no more can I try her sweet patience by demanding and re-demanding those sublime adagios.
“You smile, Madame? No doubt you murmur that I know neither what I want nor where I would be—that I am, in fact, half demented.
“My father devised a charming cure for my malady; he said I ought to marry and forthwith unearthed a rich damsel, informing me that, since he could leave me but little, it was my duty to marry money.
“At first I laughed, but finding that he was in sober earnest, I was obliged to say firmly that, since I could not love the lady in question, I would not sell myself at any price.
“That ended the discussion, but it upset me terribly, for I thought my father knew me better.
“Madame, do you not think I am right?
“As I promised Monsieur Horace, I will go to Paris at the end of the year to fire my musical broadside, after which I intend to start at once for Berlin.
“But indeed, Madame, I am taking unmerciful advantage of your kindness and will conclude by asking your pardon for my garrulity.
To Ferdinand Hiller.