was obliged to confess that the Chemnitz municipal guard, which had been forced to start for Dresden much against its will, and had resolved at the very outset to place itself at the disposal of the royal forces on arriving there, had deceived Heubner by inviting him to Chemnitz, and had lured him into the trap.  They had reached Chemnitz long before Heubner, and had taken over the guard at the gates with the object of seeing him arrive and of preparing for his arrest at once.  My brother-in-law had been very anxious about me too, as he had been told in furious tones by the leaders of the town guard that I had been seen in close association with the revolutionaries.  He thought it a wonderful intervention of Providence that I had not arrived at Chemnitz with them and gone to the same inn, in which case their fate would certainly have been mine.  The recollection of my escape from almost certain death in duels with the most experienced swordsmen in my student days flashed across me like a flash of lightning.  This last terrible experience made such an impression on me that I was incapable of breathing a word in connection with what had happened.  My brother-in-law, in response to urgent appeals—­from my wife in particular, who was much concerned for my personal safety—­undertook to convey me to Altenburg in his carriage by night.  From there I continued my journey by coach to Weimar, where I had originally planned to spend my holidays, little thinking that I should arrive by such devious ways.

The dreamy unreality of my state of mind at this time is best explained by the apparent seriousness with which, on meeting Liszt again, I at once began to discuss what seemed to be the sole topic of any real interest to him in connection with me—­the forthcoming revival of Tannhauser at Weimar.  I found it very difficult to confess to this friend that I had not left Dresden in the regulation way for a conductor of the royal opera.  To tell the truth, I had a very hazy conception of the relation in which I stood to the law of my country (in the narrow sense).  Had I done anything criminal in the eye of the law or not?  I found it impossible to come to any conclusion about it.  Meanwhile, alarming news of the terrible conditions in Dresden continued to pour into Weimar.  Genast, the stage manager, in particular, aroused great excitement by spreading the report that Rockel, who was well known at Weimar, had been guilty of arson.  Liszt must soon have gathered from my conversation, in which I did not take the trouble to dissimulate, that I too was suspiciously connected with these terrible events, though my attitude with regard to them misled him for some time.  For I was not by any means prepared to proclaim myself a combatant in the recent fights, and that for reasons quite other than would have seemed valid in the eyes of the law.  My friend was therefore encouraged in his delusion by the unpremeditated effect of my attitude.  When we met at the house of Princess