# Anton: Chapter 7



## Huilunsoittaja (Apr 6, 2010)

Anton walked home in a daze. It was one of the best nights he had known in a long time.
Getting home at 1 in the morning, he had had a wonderful conversation with Katerina Karlovna and her escort. Several things had happened: he actually met her father at the Club and a meeting was schedule the next day to discuss the publishing of his work. Katerina and Anton also exchanged their addresses, hoping to see each other again, and even made a date in the future when he would show her Piotr Ilyich. Best of all, she had hugged him when they parted in the evening.
Anton could not sleep and instead laid on the couch in his living room, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
"Is this real? Or is this a dream?" he kept asking himself. "Am I in love? Yes, I am! But she's a German! She couldn't hide that from me, despite her good Russian language. She was raised in Germany for sure, with her mannerisms. How on earth did I fall in love with a German? Sergei will tease me for sure! Can I go through with this? Could I really...?"
He finally fell into a deep sleep.

Just as was planned, a meeting with Mr. Karl Gutheil was accomplished the next day, and Anton's work was accepted. He made no promise of a longer contract to Anton, but it was a start, and Anton proved as cordial as he was told by his daughter and son.
Anton was, of course, not able to hide his emotions or designs from Sergei, who watched him very carefully.
"You seem particularly bright, Anton, where were you this morning by the way?"
"If you want to know the truth, Sergei," Anton finally said when they had escaped to Sergei's office, "I found the woman."
"You did?" Sergei was genuinely excited. "Where was she? What was she like?"
"I met her at the Kozlovsky Club, you know that one. It was just casual. And... do I have to tell you something else?"
"What are you talking about?"
Anton sighed. "You better not tell anyone this. But... she is a German."
"Hah! That's a surprise! No doubt she was only here on visit, and will soon leave."
"No, actually. She told me she's here in Moscow to stay. Her father has plans to expand here in Moscow. He has a music publishing business."
Sergei immediately turned grave. "Are you serious? This girl? She's connected to a publisher?"
"She sure is. And just this morning I made an agreement to have the Gutheil company publish my Suite for 2 Pianos."
Sergei was shocked. "Not Mitrofan Petrovich's company?"
"Not at all. I'm never making an agreement with him. I'm done with Nationalist sentiment."
"That's unlike you to say that Anton. Mitrofan Petrovich isn't that nationalist, and has a rather cosmopolitan taste in music himself. That's why he came here."
"I still don't trust him. What, do you?"
"Maybe," Sergei muttered.
"Hah! So much for being so snide last Friday. But anyways... this is what happened last night. And I can't believe myself."
"Yes, what fate!"
"Fate..."
Anton continued thinking about Katerina all day and every day for several weeks. He wrote letters to her, asking to meet her again, but she did not respond right away. Finally one message came saying he could come in the afternoon of a particular date, but only for so long, since their home was quite busy with calls on business.
Anton came to Katerina's home, which was a luxurious apartment complex on the edge of the city. No one was around, so he knocked on the door, hoping to slip in without bringing attention to himself. A servant let him in.
Katerina was there, this time wearing a dark green dress. Seeing Anton enter, she approached him immediately.
"I'm glad you could come. Would you believe my father has already started making copies of your work? He gave one to me yesterday, and I've tried to play it, although it is very hard."
"You play the piano too?"
"Yes, I trained for many years in Berlin."
They began an enthusiastic conversation with each other, and Anton carefully observed her. Katerina was of a bright, spunky personality, but she seemed slightly reserved, particularly with her subjects. She did not ask anything of Anton's life, although she mentioned some of her own. They played piano for each other, and Katerina highly praised him, although still very formally. Anton played a few piano pieces of his own that were already published.
"You are a very fine composer, Anton Stepanovich. No doubt because of Tchaikovsky."
Although the comment was casual, Anton felt slighted.
"Tchaikovsky didn't make my music. I may be well influenced by him, but I've had a much different life and experience from him, thus, I make music that is solely my own."
"Oh! Well I didn't mean you didn't have personality. But likely you would want to emulate such an illustrious name like his own."
"To tell you the truth... he has wished to emulate me."
"You don't say so!"
"Yes, I'm very much into vocal music, and currently making an opera. He's said nothing but praise for me, well, when it was in it's early stages he didn't like it. But it's on a subject he himself had failed to realize musically, and so he highly respects me."
"Fascinating! No doubt your opera will be performed soon! Is it done?"
"Alas, no. It's a very long opera, 5 Acts, and I'm on the 3rd Act. I see plenty of more years to come, struggling with it as I have for the last 4 years."
Katerina sighed and said nothing for a moment.
"I like vocal music," she said quietly.
Anton smiled at her, but wondered what was going on in her mind. Katerina now held a grim expression as they watched each other.
"You better go. My father will be here soon."
"Yes, although, I don't mind making further acquaintance with him."
Katerina's eyes flashed but she said nothing.
"Well, for your sake, I will go now. But it was good to meet you again. Very good," he emphasized again.
Katerina remained silent. There was a pause just for a moment, but in that second, Anton could see clearly in her eyes something conflicted: a mixture of desire and dread.
Again he smiled, and made his leave.
"Good-bye," she said reluctantly behind him.
"I have her now," he smiled to himself as he walked down the street. "I will play it slow. But... was she also dreading me? I wonder why."
It had not quite hit him yet that perhaps a young German girl would be sensitive to a strange man foreign to her for the most part pursuing her quite clearly. Katerina was of a weaker kind of will, but her conscious made her afraid of manipulation, or even exploitation. She remained reserved as much as she could.


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