She accepted, and her mother Countess Wodzińska approved in principle, but Maria's tender age and Chopin's tenuous health (in the winter of 1835–1836 he had been so ill that word had circulated in Warsaw that he had died) forced an indefinite postponement of the wedding. The following year, in September 1836, upon returning to Dresden after having vacationed with the Wodzińskis at Marienbad, Chopin proposed marriage to Maria. He had made the acquaintance of their daughter Maria, now sixteen, in Poland five years earlier, and fell in love with the charming, intelligent, artistically talented young woman. En route through Saxony on his way back to Paris, he met old friends from Warsaw, the Wodzińskis. In 1835 Chopin went to Carlsbad, where, for the last time in his life, he met with his parents. We dream of a summer night, and sit there waiting for the song of the nightingale. They gather about the moon which casts upon them great opalescent discs, and wakes the sleeping colours. Light clouds take on fantastic shapes and fill the sky. Suddenly the note of blue sings out, and the night is all around us, azure and transparent. Gradually quiet colours begin to show, corresponding to the suave modulations sounding in our ears. He begins again, without seeming to, so uncertain is the shape. ' 'You won't find the one without the other,' says Delacroix, 'and both will come together.' 'What if I find nothing but moonlight?' 'Then you will have found the reflection of a reflection.' The idea seems to please the divine artist. I'm trying to find the right colour, but I can't even get the form. nothing but reflections, shadows, shapes that won't stay fixed. 'Go on, go on,' exclaims Delacroix, 'That's not the end!' 'It's not even a beginning. He embarks on a sort of casual improvisation, then stops. Chopin is at the piano, quite oblivious of the fact that anyone is listening.
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