But our enjoyments in art, in this town where one can enjoy art, culminated ecstatically when we heard Wagner's "Valkyrie." The noble and melancholy love of these two Völsungs etherealised in a beauty of tones, the fervour of which has eternity's clear depth. How profoundly did it not penetrate our souls, uniting them in an endless sympathy! Our love reflected itself in this heavenly flow of melody as a narcissus—and loved itself.
In the beginning we whispered an occasional outburst of admiration to one another; later we were silent.
Minna pressed my hand at the words—
"When in winter's frosty wildness
First my friend I found."
And when Sieglinde distinctly, so that every syllable was heard in the dead silence of the theatre, and with such pathos as only Wagner has ever inspired an opera singer, sang—
"How fair and broad
Thy open brow,
The varying veins
In thy temples I trace!
I tremble with emotion
Resting entranced"—
she gave me a look which I know I shall feel on my death-bed. And at the end, when the curtain did not fall, but was drawn together … oh! I still see her standing up in the box, clapping with all her might and main, with sparkling eyes and moist traces of tears on her blushing cheek, more beautiful than I had ever seen her, more spiritually beautiful than anything I have seen or shall see!
We went down into the glorious foyer, the marble walls and columns of which gleamed in the late daylight. It
