turned back. But it seemed too provincial to be disconcerted by a vaulted ceiling. So I advanced straight on a knot of military men who stood there, and asked an old person in an undress jacket if General Ertmann lived there, as I wished to call on Madame Ertmann. Unfortunately, he replied, “I am General Ertmann, at your service.” This was very unpleasant, and I had to bring out my whole speech in an abridgment. He did not seem particularly edified, and begged to know whom he had the honour of addressing. This was not pleasant either, but, fortunately, he knew my name, and became very courteous; his wife, he said, was not at home. I should find her at two, if I was then free, or at another hour. I was delighted that it had turned out so well in the end, and spent the intervening time at the Brera, looked at Raphael’s Sposalizio, and at two made the acquaintance of Freifrau Dorothea v. Ertmann.
She received me in a very friendly manner, and was so obliging as to play me Beethoven’s sonata in C sharp minor, and then the one in D minor. The old general, who now appeared in his grey full-dress uniform with many decorations, was highly pleased, and shed tears of joy. He had not heard his wife play for so long. There was no one in Milan who cared to listen to that style of music. She spoke of the trio in B flat, which she could not well recall. I played it and sang the voice parts; this gave the old couple great joy, and so our acquaintance became complete. Since then they have shown me a friendliness which makes me quite ashamed. The old general shows me the points
