# Anton: Chapter 4, Part II



## Huilunsoittaja (Apr 6, 2010)

"Well!" Mily Alexeyevich stood up to address the whole crowd. "You have now seen the pride of musical St. Petersburg and we are so glad to have been so warmly received! We thank everyone tonight."
"Of course," he walked up to Anton, still speaking to everyone, "I will never forget our once-pupil from St. Petersburg who we are so eager to hear of his music. Anton Stepanovich, please do us the honor of playing our soiree's final work!"
"I will gladly do it!" Anton declared, and getting up with his manuscript, signaled Piotr the pianist to come forward and play his new work, his Suite for 2 Pianos, opus 15, and 3 movements long.
Anton had no greater joy than to hear or perform his own works. Of late, he had become very pleased with his pieces, and felt that this one in particular was going to be a major break for him. With all his heart, he hoped that he could please his guests, but not just them. He really wanted to please everyone that night.
Anton and Piotr had already rehearsed the piece quite well before coming to the evening's meeting, and together they gave a spectacular performance. At the end of the 2nd movement, which was a Waltz, some in the audience could not contain their applause then, although it was not yet over. When it was finally over, a great cheer came from the entire audience, and all of Anton's dedicated pupils. Sergei was very pleased with it, and cheered bravo for his dear friend. Alexander Konstantinovich, Anatoly Konstantinovich and Mitrofan Petrovich were all extremely pleased.
Anton looked to his old teacher. He clapped, and gave a polite smile. But he exuded a disappointed gaze. Mily Alexeyevich also had such a polite expression, but almost a sneer. Anton was very taken back by this.
Standing up and ignoring what ill response he was receiving, bowed to everyone, when he saw someone in the back.
A lone young woman.
This unusual sight caught his eye immediately. A woman in a men's club! Rarely would they _want _to come, and it was almost acceptable to _prohibit _women from entering on their own accord. Her eyes met Anton, and she smiled. A beautiful smile.
Anton's heart stopped. Almost everything began to fade around him, and his eyes locked onto her. And she would not stop looking at him. He gave her a nervous smile.
"Anton! That was amazing!" Sergei was standing right in front of him, patting his shoulder. Anton started and looked about him. The audience had all dispersed and a crowd was all around, looking for a chance to see him.
"I really enjoyed your piece," Alexander Konstantinovich remarked gravely, but with a light in his eyes that showed keen interest. Anatoly Konstantinovich grinned openly giving his congratulatory remarks.
"So," Nikolai Andreyevich cut in the midst of them and spoke up with intent for a longer comment. "You have grown to be an exceedingly mature and talented composer. I do sense you have changed though, from what you once were."
"Oh?" Anton wondered dreamily. He was still thinking of the woman.
"I believe you have changed..."
"And not for the better!" Mily Alexeyevich put in. "You have _Tchaikovsky's_ influence upon you!"
"Tchaikovsky! Do you know him?" Alexander Konstantinovich spoke up excitedly.
"Yes I do, and I am a good friend to him. I do not refute your declaration of Tchaikovsky's influence on me, but how is that not for the better?"
"Well, he certainly isn't a _Russian _character, that's for sure!" Mily Alexeyevich replied.
Anton started and turned to Nikolai Andreyevich. He had nodded his agreement.
So many thoughts flooded his mind so quickly he felt himself losing his reason. So many sensations had flooded his senses so quickly in the space of a minute, he froze in thought just barely about make out what had happened. He needed quiet, he needed to think.
Anton put his hands to his face, and walked away. Everyone just stared at him.
"Anton?" Sergei tried to follow him.
"Headache," Anton muttered, and fled the scene. Everyone stood still, completely baffled. But no one went after him.
Many people tried to say something to him as he began walking out of the room, but seeing a pale look on his face thought him ill, and left him alone. Anton was ill, but from something unexpected.
"Where is she?" was all he was thinking.
She was no where to be found. In the crowd, there was not a single woman. Anton did not feel like asking anyone if they had seen her, and a sick feeling in his stomach continued to grow. He escaped into the Blue Room, where his circle was before, and finding a bottle of vodka gave himself a good drink. Anton sat down in a chair, staring into space.
Her face could not leave his mind.


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