Chapter 3
If things had remained as they were, this story would have gotten nowhere. An incident that took place about three weeks later changed everything. It was at the public ball house; we had just finished a long string of music and were taking a precious five minute break before the next dance would be announced. I heard a footsteps walking up to us, from the sound of them I guessed them to be that of a man, a large man at that. His footsteps got very near, then stopped and a deep voice addressed our conductor.
“Do you, among your musicians, have a man who knows how to play the song of my dreams?”
There was an uncomfortable silence and I knew from it that our conductor was very taken back. I think all of us were. The ‘song of my dreams’, I had never heard a piece of music with such a title.
“I don’t believe I have ever heard of such a song, sir,” the conductor said, “why do you ask?”
I heard a deep sigh, and I could tell that this man, with the strong voice and firm step, was tired and disappointed.
“It is my mother,” he explained. “She wants a musician to play this song to her. I have asked just about every musician I can find if he knows it, I have brought several back home to her, but with no success. No one knows what she is talking about. My mother is weak and ill and I do not want her to get excited and fatigued, so I have promised her that I will find her a man who can play this piece of music to her.”
“I am afraid I cannot help you sir,” our conductor replied, “I have never heard of such a song.”
“I’m convinced it doesn’t exist,” the man said, “but I told her I would do my best to find it, and do my best I shall. Oh, if only I could find someone who knows it, I will pay anything just to be able to find one man who can play this mysterious music and make my aging mother glad.”
The words: ‘I will pay anything’ awoke something inside me. Now I do not wish anyone to think me greedy, but I am poor musician struggling to make ends meet who also has an aging woman at home. The pay this month had not been good and I knew that any amount of money would come in handy. So in spur of the moment I decided to take a great risk.
“Good sir,” I called out, for I had heard the shuffling of feet and guessed that he was turning to leave. “Good sir, wait a moment if you will.”
The shuffling of feet stopped and I knew he had halted. The slight scraping of his shoes told me had turned a little.
“I believe I can help you with your mysterious song,” I explained.
“Can you?” he seemed very suspicious, I could tell this by the tone of his voice.
“Yes sir.”
“Why do you were those?” I guessed he was talking about the dark shades I wore over my eyes.
“I am blind, sir.”
“Hah,” his voice was filled with mockery, “you, a blind musician with hardly a kopek to your name can help me?”
“Hear me out, sir, and judge for yourself. Now, it is true that I am blind. and because I am unable to read notes, I must listen to the music before I can play it. I have heard of this ‘song of my dreams’ and it may just be the one that your mother wishes to hear.” To be honest, I had never heard of any such music, but I decided that perhaps I would just make something up. It could be that the lady didn’t even know what she really wanted. Old age could have easily messed with her mind. I didn’t feel completely comfortable telling an honest lie, so decided throw in a little truth.
YOU ARE READING
The Nightingale of St. Petersburg
Historical FictionHis life consists of balls and parties, though he neither dances nor makes merry. Blind from birth, he forks out a humble living by playing music to the happy participants. By chance he hears her sing and is captivated by her song, but try as he mig...