It was a night in early January when the great production came to the Maly Theatre. It was the premiere of a French play that was booming with popularity wherever it was played, and a sell-out crowd was expected that night. Those of the Middle Class were on the floor, and the Aristocracy was in the balconies. The Maly Theatre is exceptionally gorgeous in its design, and filled with intricate inlays of gold.
Irina had use to come to the Theatre occasionally with her family in the past, but
It was December. The average temperature was always below freezing, and snow showers happened every 3-4 days. It's was beautiful time of year, but mostly for those who could afford to keep themselves warm.
Irina and Vasily were able to manage, but only so well. They did without heating their apartment when both would be gone, but then it would get nearly as cold inside as it was outside. Vasily had kept his bassoon in its box right next to the stove so it would retain some residual heat,
It was November. Vasily was walking to his next rehearsal with the Moscow Italian Theater. His lungs had felt very weak that day, like he couldn't get enough air. He felt a little dizzy, but he went ahead with the rehearsal. Conducting one segment, he was looking at the score, when suddenly he was seeing spots in his vision.
"This hasn't happened before," suddenly flashed in his mind. "Do I stop them?" He decided to keep going, trying to suppress the feeling. All of a
Vasily was 26 when he met Piotr Ilyich. Two weeks after, Vasily conducted a choral concert with his Choir, and the program included some of his own compositions. Piotr Ilyich was so impressed that immediately that night he vowed to get him a conducting position in the best Theatres of Moscow.
He got a letter from Piotr Ilyich:
Dear Vasily Sergeyevich,
I am overjoyed to inform you that I have recommended you to the officials of the Maly Theatre Orchestra, who have been
Vasily was at an orchestral concert when he came across the famed man.
"Greetings, sir!" Vasily hailed him in the lobby of the concert hall they were in. Piotr Ilyich and his colleagues were together in a group, chatting about how everything fared. When Vasily stepped up, everyone became hushed, and watched him carefully.
"Hello, young man! Did you like the concert?" Piotr Ilyich spoke up with a smile. He was a handsome middle aged man with a graying beard.