When Villiers, feeling rather sheepish, returned to Tribschen on the following day, Wagner, as soon as he saw him in the distance, made a pretence of extreme terror, and exclaimed,
And as Villiers with a wry smile approached nearer to him, he broke into a run, crying out, "Do not bite me!" Then, as if to escape from the danger, he climbed with extraordinary agility to the very top of a pine-tree.
The Master asked me if I knew the Military March he had dedicated to the King of Bavaria. He had on his piano a copy of this piece, arranged for four hands.
"Let us play it," said he. "But I warn you that I play the piano very badly."
What of my playing, then! But I felt that I must not disclose my weakness, that, at any cost, this wonderful, rare moment must be enshrined in my memory:--to have played a duet with Richard Wagner, if it were only a few bars!
He took the upper part, and as the bass is more difficult for me, that made the matter worse. But I seated myself courageously, mentally determined to make every effort of which I was capable.
We began to play, without stumbling. I felt as though I were a somnambulist walking on a narrow ledge, and I seemed to have been doing so for a very long time.
But at last, on the third page, Wagner himself hesitated and then stopped, declaring that part too difficult.
"How well you keep the time!" he exclaimed. And then he complimented me upon my way of rolling the _tremolos_. That particular merit was most assuredly brought to light by the emotion of the moment, as I had never known of it before.
My _tremolo_, moreover, remained celebrated at Tribschen--and even at Wahnfried--for I have lived upon my reputation, and, despite all solicitations, I have never risked attempting it again.
Wagner made me a present of that copy of the Cavalry March which I had so anxiously deciphered, and he wrote above the first line:
"I wish to say to you," announced the Master, one day as we arrived, "that you are invited by me to make an excursion into a very interesting corner of Switzerland--the country of William Tell. The trip is all planned, and everything is arranged."
Again we were rather embarrassed, and endeavoured to protest. But Madam Cosima made signs to me, and, coming nearer, said in a low voice: