"Do you still sing Massenet?" he said to me. "Do you recollect my dining with you in Paris, and your singing those exquisite songs?"
"Recollect it!" I cried. "How do you think I could ever forget?"
"Will you not sing? I will accompany you," he said. "Have you any of Massenet's songs?"
"I have nothing with me to-night. I never dreamt of singing," I answered.
Schlözer said: "That is no obstacle. I will send a servant to your house directly to fetch the music." And in a very short time the music was in my hands.
Then Liszt sat down and, turning over the pages, found what he wanted, and I sang. Schlözer was radiantly happy. There was not one disturbing element. Every one was as appreciative as he was himself—those who listened as well as those who performed.
NOTE FROM F. LISZT
Liszt was at his best; I mean that he could not have been better. Knowing that Count Arco sang, he insisted on hearing him. Arco at first declined, but finally yielded—there was no resisting the arch-charmer. Liszt played the "Suoni la tromba" (Arco's cheval de bataille), by heart, of course, singing himself, to help the timid singer, and adding variations on the piano.
Liszt was in such high spirits that we would not have been surprised if he had danced a jig. He threw his long hair back from his forehead, as if to throw care to the winds. Later he spread his large hands over the keyboard in protest and said, "No more from me, but we must hear Schlözer before we go." Therefore Schlözer was obliged to play. He can only improvise, as you know. Liszt sat by his side and played a helpful bass.