He had fallen back on the extraordinary bibliographical knowledge which, especially in reference to music, it had been his hobby to acquire in the days of his prosperity.  His real name he never told me, wishing to guard the secret of that, as of his misfortunes, until after his death.  For the time being he told me only that he was known as Anders, was of noble descent, and had held property on the Rhine, but that he had lost everything owing to the villainous betrayal of his gullibility and good-nature.  The only thing he had managed to save was his very considerable library, the size of which I was able to estimate for myself.  It filled every wall of his small dwelling.  Even here in Paris he soon complained of bitter enemies; for, in spite of having come furnished with an introduction to influential people, he still held the inferior position of an employee in the library.  In spite of his long service there and his great learning, he had to see really ignorant men promoted over his head.  I discovered afterwards that the real reason lay in his unbusinesslike methods, and the effeminacy consequent on the delicate way in which he had been nurtured in early life, which made him incapable of developing the energy necessary for his work.  On a miserable pittance of fifteen hundred francs a year, he led a weary existence, full of anxiety.  With nothing in view but a lonely old age, and the probability of dying in a hospital, it seemed as if our society put new life into him; for though we were poverty-stricken, we looked forward boldly and hopefully to the future.  My vivacity and invincible energy filled him with hopes of my success, and from this time forward he took a most tender and unselfish part in furthering my interests.  Although he was a contributor to the Gazette Musicale, edited by Moritz Schlesinger, he had never succeeded in making his influence felt there in the slightest degree.  He had none of the versatility of a journalist, and the editors entrusted him with little besides the preparation of bibliographical notes.  Oddly enough, it was with this unworldly and least resourceful of men that I had to discuss my plan for the conquest of Paris, that is, of musical Paris, which is made up of all the most questionable characters imaginable.  The result was practically always the same; we merely encouraged each other in the hope that some unforeseen stroke of luck would help my cause.

To assist us in these discussions Anders called in his friend and housemate Lehrs, a philologist, my acquaintance with whom was soon to develop into one of the most beautiful friendships of my life.  Lehrs was the younger brother of a famous scholar at Konigsberg.  He had left there to come to Paris some years before, with the object of gaining an independent position by his philological work.  This he preferred, in spite of the attendant difficulties, to a post as teacher with a salary which only in Germany could be considered sufficient for a scholar’s wants.