However, the dysentery I had previously suffered from in Genoa laid hold of me again, and rendered me incapable of any intellectual activity for weeks.  I had already learned to appreciate the matchless beauty of Venice, and I was full of hope that my joy in it would give me back my power to satisfy my reviving artistic yearnings.  On one of my first promenades on the Riva I was accosted by two strangers, one of whom introduced himself as Count Edmund Zichy, the other as Prince Dolgoroukow.  They had both left Vienna barely a week before, where they had been present at the first performances of my Lohengrin; they gave me the most satisfactory reports about the result of it, and by their enthusiasm I could see that their impressions were very favourable.  Count Zichy left Venice soon afterwards, but Prince Dolgoroukow decided to stay on for the winter.  Although I certainly intended to avoid company, this Russian, who was about fifty years of age, soon managed to make me yield to his persuasions.  He had an earnest and extremely expressive face (he prided himself on being of direct Caucasian descent), and showed remarkable culture in every respect, a wide knowledge of the world, and above all a taste for music, in the literature of which he was also so well versed that it amounted to a passion.  I had at first explained to him that owing to the state of my health I was bound to renounce all society, and that I needed quiet more than anything.  Apart from the difficulty of avoiding him altogether on the limited walks in Venice, the restaurant at Albergo San Marco where I joined Ritter every day for meals led to inevitable meetings with this stranger, to whom I eventually became sincerely attached.  He had taken up his abode in that hotel, and I could not prevent him from taking his meals there.  During my stay in Venice we met almost daily, and continued to be on very friendly terms.  On the other hand I had a great surprise, on returning to my apartments one evening, to be informed that Liszt had just arrived.  I rushed eagerly to the room pointed out to me as his, and there, to my horror, saw Winterberger the pianist, who had introduced himself to my host as a mutual friend of myself and of Liszt, and in the confusion of the moment the host had concluded that the new arrival was Liszt himself.  As a matter of fact I had recently got to know this young man as a follower of Liszt during his comparatively long stay in Zurich; he was considered an excellent organist, and was also called into requisition as second at the piano when there were arrangements for two pianofortes.  Except for some foolish behaviour on his part I had not noticed anything particular about him.  I was surprised, however, that he should have selected my address as his lodging in Venice.  He told me that he was merely the precursor of a certain Princess Galitzin, for whom he had to arrange winter quarters in Venice; that he knew nobody there, but having heard in Vienna that I was staying here, it was very natural