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Updated: June 3, 2025
The thing we're looking for " The Sergeant turned to Tausig. "A small paper," he said eagerly. "A a contract just a single sheet of legal cap paper it was type-written and signed by myself and some other gentlemen, and folded twice." The woman looked at me.
As I had to repeat these expeditions regularly every week, being anxious to watch the result of the treatment, Tausig endeavoured to escape from these also, as neither Brestenberg nor Minna's conversation seemed to appeal to him. However, he could not avoid meeting her when, feeling obliged to interrupt her cure for a few days to look after her household affairs, she returned at the end of May.
But from the way he came at Tausig's call I knew he'd had a private talk with him, and I knew he'd found the middle way. "This girl's taken a paper of mine. I want her searched," Tausig cried. "Do you mean," I said, "that you'll sign your name to such a charge against me?" He didn't answer. He had pulled the Sergeant down and was whispering in his ear. I knew what that meant.
It was Tausig coming in as I was going out. Suddenly I realized that, but I was in such a mad whirl of excitement that I almost ran over the little fellow before I could stop myself. "Phew! What a whirlwind you are!" he cried. "Where are you going?" "Oh, good morning, Mr. Tausig," I said sweetly. "I never dreamed you'd be down so early in the morning."
Two of the greatest executive artists of modern times, Alexander Dreyschock and Carl Tausig, were, theoretically and practically, of the same opinion.
I had arranged for Tausig and Cornelius, whom I had again met in Vienna, to come out to Ander's house that day, and I returned with them in the evening. I spent a good deal of time with these two, who were sincerely concerned about me and did their best to cheer me. Tausig, it is true, was rather more reserved, as he had aspirations in high quarters at that time.
She sat at the piano, her bilious skin flushed by the exertion of playing. "You you!" he barely managed to stammer. She did not reply, but preserved the immobility of a carved idol. "You are a wonderful artiste," he blurted, going to her. She stolidly answered: "The Japanese have the finest sense of touch in the world. I was once a pupil of Karl Tausig."
He knows he can't get bookings for any play on earth; that if he did they'd be canceled and any old excuse thrown at him, as soon as Tausig heard of it and could put on the screws. He knows that there isn't an unwatched hole in theatrical America through which he can crawl and pull me and the play in after him. And yet he just can't let go working on it.
I was really so surprised and dumbfounded by this strange and inexplicable event that I handed Cosima's letter to Tausig without comment, merely asking him. what could be done in the face of such nonsense. He at once undertook to show Cosima the incident in a correct light and clear up the misunderstanding, and I soon had the pleasure of hearing that he had met with success.
Everything contributed to the maintenance of this hope: my wife returned to Brestenberg to complete the second part of her cure; the most glorious summer weather favoured my disposition to work at the second act of Tristan; the evenings with Tausig cheered me up, and my relations with my neighbours, who had never borne me any ill-will, seemed to me to favour the possibility of a dignified and desirable understanding in the future.
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