‘Yes,’ she said, ‘Rockel, that was his name, quite right.’

My host laughed loudly, and said that he would not be so stupid as to let them catch him, in spite of his opera.

At last, on 22nd May, my birthday, Minna actually arrived at Magdala.  She had hastened to Weimar on receiving my letter, and had proceeded from there according to instructions, bent on persuading me at all costs to flee the country immediately and for good.  No attempt to raise her to the level of my own mood was successful; she persisted in regarding me as an ill-advised, inconsiderate person who had plunged both himself and her into the most terrible situation.  It had been arranged that I should meet her the next evening in the house of Professor Wolff at Jena to take a last farewell.  She was to go by way of Weimar, while I took the footpath from Magdala.  I started accordingly on my walk of about six hours, and came over the plateau into the little university town (which now received me hospitably for the first time) at sunset.  I found my wife again at the house of Professor Wolff, who, thanks to Liszt, was already my friend, and with the addition of a certain Professor Widmann another conference was held on the subject of my further escape.  A writ was actually out against me for being strongly suspected of participation in the Dresden rising, and I could not under any circumstances depend on a safe refuge in any of the German federal states.  Liszt insisted on my going to Paris, where I could find a new field for my work, while Widmann advised me not to go by the direct route through Frankfort and Baden, as the rising was still in full swing there, and the police would certainly exercise praiseworthy vigilance over incoming travellers with suspicious-looking passports.  The way through Bavaria would be the safest, as all was quiet there again; I could then make for Switzerland, and the journey to Paris from there could be engineered without any danger.  As I needed a passport for the journey, Professor Widmann offered me his own, which had been issued at Tubingen and had not been brought up to date.  My wife was quite in despair, and the parting from her caused me real pain.  I set off in the mail-coach and travelled, without further hindrance, through many towns (amongst them Rudolstadt, a place full of memories for me) to the Bavarian frontier.  From there I continued my journey by mail-coach straight to Lindau.  At the gates I, together with the other passengers, was asked for my passport.  I passed the night in a state of strange, feverish excitement, which lasted until the departure of the steamer on Lake Constance early in the morning.  My mind was full of the Swabian dialect, as spoken by Professor Widmann, with whose passport I was travelling.  I pictured to myself my dealings with the Bavarian police should I have to converse with them in accordance with the above-mentioned irregularities in that document.  A prey to feverish unrest, I spent the whole night