confession of love to her. Far from it. With a calmness that would
make one feel like pinching him, were it not that after all the story
has a "happy ending," he left Frankfort at the end of six weeks, when
his feelings were at their height, and in order to submit the state of
his affections to a cool and unprejudiced scrutiny, he went to
Scheveningen, Holland, where he spent a month. Anything more
characteristically Mendelssohnian can scarcely be imagined than this
leisurely passing of judgment on his own heart.

Just what Cécile thought of his sudden departure we do not know. No
doubt by that time she had ceased twitting her mother on Felix's
supposed intentions to make Frau Mendelssohn of Mme. Jeanrenaud, for it
must have become apparent that the attentions of the famous composer
were not directed toward the beautiful mother, but toward the more
beautiful daughter. If, however, she felt at all uneasy at his going
away at the time when he should have been preparing to declare himself,
her doubts would have been dispelled could she have read some of the
letters which he dispatched from Scheveningen. That she herself was
captivated by him there seems no doubt. It was an amusing change from
her preconceived notion of him. She had imagined him a stiff,
disagreeable, jealous old man, who wore a green velvet skull-cap and
played tedious fugues. This prejudice, needless to say, was dispelled
at their first meeting, when she found the crabbed creation of her
fancy a man of the world, with gracious, winning manners, and a
brilliant conversationalist not only on music, but also on other topics.

[Illustration: Fanny Hensel, sister of Mendelssohn.]

It is a curious coincidence that when Felix left Frankfort for
Scheveningen, with the image of this fair being in his heart, the