"After some consultation with her husband," wrote Felix," he said: 'She will sing you something of Gluck's.' Meantime, the Princess of Gotha had come in, and we five proceeded through various corridors and rooms to the Queen's sitting-room, where there stood by the piano a mighty rocking-horse and two great bird-cages. The walls were decorated with pictures; beautifully bound books lay on the tables, and music on the piano. The Duchess of Kent came in, too, and while they were all talking I rummaged about amongst the music, and soon discovered my first set of songs. So, of course, I begged her rather to sing one of those than the Gluck, to which she very kindly consented; and which did she choose?—Schöner und schöner schmückt sich'—sang it quite charmingly, in strict time and tune, and with very good execution. . . . Then I was obliged to confess that Fanny had written the song (which I found very hard, but pride must have a fall), and to beg her to sing one of my own also."
The Queen complied, singing, as Felix declares, "really quite faultlessly, and with charming feeling and expression;" and when she had concluded he sat down to play, introducing into a beautiful improvisation the songs which she and the Prince had sung. A handsome ring, the gift of the Queen, remained to keep fresh the memory of this pleasant visit when it was numbered among the things of the past.
Later in her life, in fact, only a year before she died, Fanny Hensel issued a volume of her own compositions which met with the success it deserved. Felix, who never quite desired her to publish, generously conquered his prejudice on this occasion, and wrote to wish her good fortune in her venture:
"My dearest Fance—Not till to-day, just as I am on the point of starting, do I, unnatural brother that I am,
