My new patient was a German officer about thirty-five years old. He said he came from Munich. I told him about Count Arco (also from Munich), whom he knew, and about Petit Val, in which he seemed interested. We talked music, and he became quite excited when he spoke of Wagner, to whom, according to him, no one could compare. I did not want to discuss this wide subject; I merely remarked that Mendelssohn and Weber had their good points, which he allowed, but replied that they were utterly out of fashion. I did not agree with him, and, to show that Weber was a genius, I hummed the prayer from "Der Freischütz."
There was a visible movement among the white-covered beds, and the nurses frowned, while the doctor came hurriedly toward me, holding up his finger warningly.
I really have no talent for nursing. It seems that everything I do is wrong.
The German officer said, when I went away, "I will convince you to-morrow, when you come, that Wagner is the greatest genius living." I answered that undoubtedly he would, and bade him good-by.
When I reached the carriage I found a small crowd collected around it, and I hurried to get in, and hardly had time to shut the door when Louis whipped the horse, and we were galloping away toward home. Once there, Louis told me that he would respectfully advise me not to go in the carriage with a coachman in livery again. Anything, he said, in the form of luxury or wealth excited the mob, and no one could tell what it might do when excited.
Therefore we decided to abolish the liveries for the future. When we reached home we found that we were one horse less, the Communards having taken it out of the stables without further ado than a mild protest from the frightened concierge. The Comité de Transport promised to return the horse when no longer needed.
[Illustration: RAOUL RIGAULT]
March 31st.
DEAR MAMA,—Mr. Moulton thought it better that I should leave Paris. But to leave Paris one must have a passport from the Prefect of Police. He consulted Mr. Washburn about it, who not only consented to give me a card of introduction to Raoul Rigault (whom he knew personally), but offered to send me to the prefecture in his own carriage.
This morning at eleven the carriage was at the door, and with it the promised card of introduction. I noticed that the coachman had no livery, nor did he wear the cockade of the Legation; neither was there any servant. I suppose Mr. Washburn thought it safer for us to drive through the streets without creating any unnecessary notice or running the risk of being insulted.