# Anton: Chapter 13



## Huilunsoittaja (Apr 6, 2010)

Anton picked up a new pass-time.
Sometimes he even wondered himself what he was doing, going to several clubs in one night for apparent no reason. He could sit around for hours just looking around and drinking, or he would enter a card game and throw almost all the money he had in his pockets at the table. Anton was a failure at gambling, but that wasn't why he was willing to risk all his money. It was the craze that came over him while everyone chattered.
"I dare you all! 100 roubles, right now!" he threw down his stack in the middle of the table, where 4 other men were sitting.
"Please sir, we don't want to waste all our money so quickly, if that is what will happen."
"There is no waste when one throws themselves into their passion," he would sneer.
"40 roubles," a man declared across from him.
"60!" Anton challenged. "I will only do that little."
One man stepped out. "I don't play foolishly! You lose all your games anyways sir, I've seen you?"
"And what does it matter? I have nothing to lose, yes sir, nothing."
"Oh? Are you from a well-to-do family?"
"I am, but that's not the point. I wouldn't use this money on anything else!" Anton's words were slightly slurred due to the fact he was drinking at the same time.
"What? No other hobby? No other woman in your life, eh?"
"Music doesn't need my money, nor does Katerina. Or maybe she does," he replied darkly.
"Who?"
Anton didn't respond.
One of the men turned to another and whispered something. Both smiled, and the latter spoke up.
"Well, if that's what motivates you to play, I don't know what else I would do myself! I put down 60 too!"
240 roubles were in the center of the table now.
"Deal the cards then!" Anton cried.
He had an awful set of cards though. He was rigged, but he was too drunk to wonder. The man with the best cards was the one who had whispered something to his friend. Later they split up their winnings amongst themselves.
Anton continued doing this for a long time, once or twice a week, and always alone. He tried to avoid doing it the night before a day he had class, because if he did, he would never show up the next day.
Although Anton seemingly had no reason for this, in the back of his head, he had a clawing notion that he might meet Katerina at any time again. And yet he never did, for 4 years.

One winter, there was to be a celebration commemorating the anniversary of the Russian Music Concerts at the Conservatory, and many people were invited from the area. Anton and Sergei were of course central to the evening, but Piotr Ilyich was also there, and a number of people from High Society.
For Anton, enough time had passed that he had in many ways gotten over Katerina, but he still hadn't forgotten her. Having buried himself in musical affairs, he felt her a painful distraction in some ways, and yet he continued to hold on to her.
The celebration was held in the Conservatory's chamber hall, although it was rearranged not for a concert, but a gathering. Anton walked around meeting his students and other colleagues who were invited, and spent a lot of time talking with his current publisher, Jurgenson. Anton had already made arrangements to publish his opera under this man, who was so generous, but strict on his standards.
"Are rumors really true that you ran to Piotr Ilyich's home after he gave you his letter?"
"I did. He had said the most unimaginable compliments to me and my opera, and I felt writing a letter of thanks back would not suffice."
"You still traveled about 30 versts to find him."
Anton laughed nervously. "I know. I do things impulsively like that. He certainly didn't expect me."
"I also heard you had tried to compose something a few years ago where he didn't approve."
"Oh yes," Anton frowned, annoyed. He didn't like being reminded of that enormous scathing he had from Piotr Ilyich then. "He disapproved mostly because of the subject, which he felt embarrassed for be associated with since I was going to dedicate it to him. I burned most of the score afterward."
"I would have published it too, certainly."
"Oh no you wouldn't have. It was... barbaric."
Suddenly to his surprise, he saw a face coming through the entrance that he hadn't seen in a long time: Karl Gutheil.
Although Anton was having a great time talking with Jurgenson, he stepped up, and explained he had a headache and needed to leave for a bit.
Out in the lobby, he wondered what he ought to do. Sudden thoughts of Katerina flooded his mind again, and he winced.
"I can't possibly not talk to him now, after everything. He has to have changed. I will tell him I want to publish with him again..."
Walking back in, he found Gutheil speaking quietly with 3 people in a corner. Discreetly Anton came around behind him, and pretended to mind his own business.
"Have you been doing well?" one man asked Gutheil.
"I have! Much success. However, it's all very short-lived I feel."
"How's that?"
Gutheil closed in nearer to his listeners.
"They lack a certain talent, all of them. I've wanted to get Piotr Ilyich's music for so long, but I feel I've come to him too late. I really need someone who I could seriously patron for several years. Do you know of any composers that may be interested?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"Indeed, not likely to find anyone as good as Tchaikovsky. The Russians all makes such barbaric music sometimes, especially those Nationalists," he whispered. His listeners laughed softly.
"Wait, what about Anton Stepanovich?"
"He may be nice. I published one work of his, and I did get a profit. But he's like all the other Moscow composers: a civilized barbarian. Would you believe they all hate someone as talented as Brahms?"
Anton bit his lip as he heard the others murmured in awe, and he walked away.
Of course Anton would not let him get away with this.
That night, when Gutheil was leaving, Anton came behind him and grabbed his shoulder.
"Karl Gutheil! You were here the whole night and yet I never properly met with you! How are you?"
Gutheil frowned immediately upon turning around, and looked flustered.
"I am fine."
"I would like to talk to you in private. May I?"
"You most certainly not."
Anton caught him turning around and pulled him away into another hallway.
"I'm going to be completely serious with you now, Gutheil, I don't want to make you think me a deceiver. But I've wanted to publish with you again. I was... grieved by your letter so many years ago."
"I knew you were. But believe me, I don't want anything more of you."
"Or do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I... I have someone of interest who you may want to patron for several years, maybe even a decade."
Gutheil's expression changed to surprise.
"Are you serious?"
"I'm not deceiving you sir, I am in earnest."
"Well, who is it?"
"Will you publish some of my works first?"
"Is this a bargain?"
"I want us to be on better terms is all."
"You lie! I know what you want, and believe me, you can't have her!"
Anton came in close to Gutheil with a very intimidating look.
"This isn't about her," he said darkly. "It's about you calling me a barbarian. I assure you I'm not, and very clearly from this stereotype you've believed, you've let it skew your entire idea of me, and what kind of person I am. We Russians are noble-hearted, and I am noble-hearted, and I would... I would never cheat or deceive to steal one who was most precious to you, as she was to me. That at least, I want you to know and remember."
Gutheil was stunned to hear this, and said nothing for a moment.
"Katerina is married now, you know."
Anton backed away for a second. He had always assumed so, but now that he knew the truth, it suddenly pained a hope that he had held for so long, the promise she had made to him that fateful night 4 years ago.
"I doesn't matter," Anton replied. "She can marry who she wills. But you better not have distorted my character to her when you forbid her from marrying me, and you better not have kept her from her true desires."
Gutheil frowned again and said nothing.
"Alright," he finally said. "I see how it is. I will publish some of your works. In fact, I will commission you one. But you must please me, Anton Stepanovich. If you don't, take it to someone else. I will only publish that which is... most noble-hearted," he added this with a wry smile.
"Thank you. I appreciate it."
"Then you will tell me of this other person?"
"Yes. But only then. But don't worry, I think you will be well pleased. He is my prodigy, you see, and if you don't like me, I think you will like him."
"I understand. Good-bye."
"Is Katerina happy?"
Gutheil frowned and walked away. Anton decided not to badger him any longer and let him go.

A few days later, Anton came with his 3 Morceaux for solo Piano to the Gutheil Publishing House.
"So you've called this work 'Bigarrures.' Now what for?" Gutheil asked while scanning through the music.
"It means 'streaks' of course, in French. It's an impressionist idea I'm trying to convey, motion and color. I've heard such style is now popular in France, and even Germany."
"Play it for me."
There was a piano in the large office that Gutheil held, and it was for the purpose of composers to sample their works for their publishers. Anton played his 3 Piano pieces easily and smoothly. Gutheil was impressed.
"Yes, that is something I like. Charming, refined. I will take it. As your Opus 20?"
"Yes, thank you. I really do appreciate this. You know I usually publish with Jurgenson, but well... as of late he's been slack at publicizing my works..." Anton gave him a shrewd glance.
Gutheil perked up his attention. "You will see. I have my ways. I will."
Anton left feeling a lot more relieved than he was before. This was the beginning of a long plan he had imagined in his mind.


----------

