No wretched bargaining, no limitation of rehearsals here!
I asked General Guédéonoff:
“How many rehearsals can your Excellency allow me?”
“How many? Why! as many as you want. They will rehearse until you are satisfied.”
And they did; consequently it was royally, imperially, organised and performed.
The vast theatre was full; diamonds, uniforms, helmets shone and glittered everywhere. I, too, was in good form, and conducted without a single mistake—a thing that, in those days, did not happen often.
I was recalled more times than I could count, but I must own that I paid small heed to the public, the divine Shakespearean poem that I myself had made affected me so deeply that, the moment I was free, I fled to a quiet room in the theatre, where my dear, good Ernst found me in floods of tears.
“Ah! nerves!” said he, “I know too well what it is.”
And, holding my head, he let me sob like a hysterical girl for a quarter of an hour.
Despite its warm reception, I doubt that my symphony was rather over the heads of the audience, therefore, when it was to be repeated, on the advice of the cashier of the theatre, I added two scenes from Faust.