A thousand cordial thanks for the letter of the dear Princess, who soon will have to take the title of private secretary.  My best greetings to all.

The splendid air and the quiet sympathetic surroundings which I have been enjoying for two days have already cheered me up a little, and I begin to have hopes of perfect health.

Farewell, my dearest, my only friend.  For heaven’s sake, do not be so chary of your communications.

When we compare letters some day, I shall appear a veritable babbler by the side of you; while you, on the other hand, will make a noble show as a man of deeds.  But, dearest Franz, a little confidential talk is not to be despised.  Take note of this, you aristocratic benefactor!

Farewell, and write to me soon.  I shall once more have a good go at your scores, and hope to get well into them.  My address is still Poste restante, Geneve.

Your

R. W.

Your “Mazeppa” is terribly beautiful; I was quite out of breath when I read it for the first time.  I pity the poor horse; nature and the world are horrible.  I would really rather write poetry than music just now; it requires no end of obstinacy to stick to one thing.  I have again two splendid subjects which I must execute.  “Tristan and Isolde,” you know, and after that the “Victory,” the most sacred, the most perfect salvation.  But that I cannot yet tell you.  For the final “Victory” I have another interpretation than that supplied by Victor Hugo, and your music has given it to me, all but the close; for greatness, glory, and the dominion of nations I do not care at all.

218.

My Hungarian journey has, during the last three weeks, become unexpectedly a doubtful matter, and I did not like, dearest Richard, to write to you before I could tell you something more definite; for the time of my visit must be arranged according to that journey taking or not taking place.  The consecration of Gran cathedral is fixed for August 31st, and in case I go there to conduct my Mass, I should be with you in Zurich about September 15th or 20th; but if I am relieved of that duty I shall be at Zurich about the end of August.  I hope to know by the end of next week what has been settled, and shall then ask the Princess to let you know particulars.  In the meantime, albeit used to waiting, I did not care to wait any longer before I told you that I am an hungered and athirst for being together with you, and going through our programme of nonsense; the hors d’oeuvre (which, as you know, have the quality of exciting both hunger and thirst) of your feast of “Rhinegold” and “Valkyrie” will be my symphony to Dante’s “Divina Commedia,” which will belong to you and was finished yesterday.  It takes a little less than an hour in performance, and may amuse you.

After that you will speak to me about your Victory, the most sacred, the most perfect salvation....What will it be?  The few hints in your last letter have made me very curious to know the whole idea.