At that moment only Lady Trevelyan and two of the other girls were in Munich, Sir Alfred and Pauline turning up for the Ring later on. Although the strange dread of the future never left me, their presence made all the difference for the time being, and we reveled in music together, especially in a wonderful performance of Beethoven's Missa Solemnis. Probably because of my then state of mind it seemed to me I had never heard it before; the terror of a certain veiled, rushing passage for violas and cellos at the thought of sin, death, and judgment ... the wild triumph of the trumpet call flaming out of it ... how it haunted me in the hours to come! ...

The morning after the performance I went to see Levi when he was at breakfast, and remember how he rushed to the piano with a piece of black bread and butter in one hand, saying, as he strummed bits of the Mass with the other: "... and this passage for instance ... was there ever anything like it?" And presently the bread and butter was cast aside, and this overworked man, full of cares (as he was just then) and on the brink of a severe illness (as he turned out to be), instead of finishing his breakfast, began to play with the fiery enthusiasm of a boy.