# Anton: Chapter 4, Part I



## Huilunsoittaja (Apr 6, 2010)

The Moscow composers allowed the visitors from St. Petersburg to have the "first shot," and so Nikolai Andreyvich played a work at the piano. He said it was an orchestral work called "Cappricio Espagnol," and played about half of it.
"How excellent! How capital!" the young Muscovites began praising it very highly. Anton too praised it, "I wouldn't expect anything less from my beloved teacher." Sergei was still quiet, although he had nodded his own personal approval.
After Nikolai Andreyevich, Sergei offered to go himself. Getting up, he stood in front of the visitors, and Anton saw him eye the youngest of them with a particular glee.
"Well, Alexander Konstantinovich, we meet again, do we not? I think you remember our first meeting, _do you not?_" articulating the last words very slowly.
Anton frowned and looked over at the young visitor. He was frowning and trying not to look at Sergei, who was piercing him with his glowing eyes.
"I do," he mumbled.
"Ah, well I would like to tell you that I have yet another symphony I'm going to share tonight, not doubt just as _memorable _as my first. Or should I say... _memorizable?_"
There was a murmur of curiosity from the audience, and a number of Petersburg visitors began staring at the poor young man, who put a hand over his eyes.
"I assure you Sergei Ivanovich that I will..." he cut himself off, and turning red looked up. "I will not disrespect you again."
Sergei grinned merrily at his miserable opponent. "Oh, well that's all fine! I hope you enjoy my work anyhow!"
He sat down at the piano with his manuscript and played a movement of his new symphony, not yet published. It was of a far different style than Nikolai Andreyevich's music, but in fact had a more noble and civilized tone to it, something along the lines of Brahms, so Anton thought. Sergei had been talking about his 2nd symphony for a long time with Anton, although he hadn't heard a single note of it until tonight.
The reaction from this work was quite different from the first, not in intensity, but the variety of impressions it gave. Neither Nikolai Andreyevich nor Mily Alexeyevich liked it, which was quite obvious from their faces, but Anatol Konstantinovich and Alexander Konstantinovich seemed to like it very much. Mitrofan Petrovich was perhaps the most excited about it, and immediately commented,
"Dear Sergei Ivanovich, that was a truly unique work in the Russian repertoire! Have you got publishing terms for this work yet?"
"No I haven't," Sergei replied, "But I am currently searching."
"I would like to speak with you after the evening's soiree, a personal talk."
Everyone knew what this was going to entail, and a murmur of awe came from the whole audience, and Anton was quite surprised himself.
Sergei hesitated. "Well, let us make of it what is possible. I will talk."
After this, he sat down, and Anton whispered to him, "You're not seriously thinking of striking up a deal with him are you?"
"Who knows, it might turn to my favor. I'm taking a neutral stance tonight, as I want to carefully observe our guests."
Anatoly Konstantinovich volunteered to go next, playing some short pieces for 2 pianos, Mily Alexeyevich provided the 2nd part. After him, Sergei's student Nikolai went ahead to play a work, which was highly approved of by Moscow followers, although Nikolai Andreyevich and Mily Alexeyevich were still disapproving, but they would not explain why.
"We will share that at the end I think," they nodded to each other.
Mily Alexeyevich also played his own piano works, namely 2 Mazurkas just completed and published. They were admired as works of the highest order, as with Nikolai Andreyevich's work.
A student of Anton, his name was Piotr, played his own Polonaise, meant to be a showpiece, since he was a piano performance student as well. Although his own fellow students applauded him, he wasn't very approved of by the visitors.
"Aren't there already enough of those works nowadays?" Anton heard Mily Alexeyevich comment in Nikolai Andreyevich's ear. Anton frowned and turned away.
Only one visitor from Petersburg was left without his compositions played, and that was Alexander Konstantinovich.
"Do I have to play it myself?" he asked nervously. "Can't Anatoly play something for me?"
"Come on, Sasha, it's no big deal. It's not your pianist skills that we are analyzing, just your music."
"Sasha, do play your Suite op. 2 for them!" Mitrofan Petrovich suggested cheerfully.
Alexnader Konstantinovich frowned, and stepped up. Almost immediately he turned around, staring at the large group of men behind him, all strangers. Anton saw a look of extreme dread come over his face.
"I'm not a bad pianist," Anton heard him mutter, but not to anyone in particular. The young man sat at the piano, and stared at the keys for a second.
"My work is using a word. My own name, spelled with musical notes. S-A-S-C-H-A." He played E flat, A, E flat, C, B and A on the keyboard. "I hope you all will like," he said rather gloomily.
He then closed his eyes.
"What's he doing?" Anton thought. "Meditating? Praying? Is he that kind of character?"
Alexander Konstantinovich opened his eyes, and thus he began his work with a sudden and surprising amount of force into the notes. He recited the entire work from memory, 4 movements long.
This work made perhaps the greatest impression. Although this man was only 20, he had composed something like a masterpiece, and the young Moscow composers his age were astounded. Alexander Konstantinovich's teachers and friends grinned, and Anton stared in wonder. Even Sergei couldn't help being impressed.
At the end, there was a great cheer and resounding applause from everyone in the room. Alexander Konstantinovich got up and bowed, looking quite stunned at this reception. Anton could tell he was very pale and even overwhelmed, but he kept a firm countenance and showed how mature he was. Sitting down, it seemed like he was finally able to breath, and Anatoly Konstantinovich put his hand on his shoulder, showing a friend's sincere support.
"I think I could like the 2 of them," Anton smiled to himself.


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