piano and I wanted to shoot goals at the local football club, so sometimes we argued about it, a lot, we argued a lot. With lots of shouting! I had this mad idea, you know, that I could be a professional? But I’m not fast enough and my aim, it is lousy most of the time, but it was pretty important to me, this dream, very important. So my dad . . . he decided to . . . strike a deal. So many hours at the piano gave me so many hours with my friends. And I learned an important lesson, about compromise. Sometimes it works like this: in order to get what you want, you have to give in a little and do what you don’t want to do. With me so far?” He turned his head and raised a quizzical eyebrow at Daniel, who nodded his understanding.
“So how about we strike a deal, young man?”
“Okay.”
“If you come to the concert and the workshop and listen to what Maria tells you, but you don’t have to play, no rehearsals, for the moment, okay? Then I promise that I’ll talk to your mom and dad. I think I can persuade them. In my opinion the danger to your fingers, it is very small if you are careful. And if it means you agree to play, then it’s a worthwhile risk. What do you say?”
Daniel took the outstretched hand and they shook.
“Deal!” Daniel said enthusiastically.
“Good.” Rafael stood up. “Now, I have to say welcome to all these people out there, in this hall, so I guess we better let them in. When you come to the concert, make sure you listen hard to Tatiana. She’ll play Paganini. She is Russian and she is still a raw talent, had very few lessons really. I want to hear most of all what you think of the violin she plays.” Rafael guided him up the aisle with a hand on the small of Daniel’s back.
“Why? What’s so special about it?”
“It belongs to a dear friend of mine, Sergei Valentino, and it was made by Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesú over two hundred and fifty years ago.”
Chapter 8
T wo nights later the string concert started on time at seven thirty. Daniel and his parents were early so they could drink in the atmosphere of the Concert Hall. He’d told them about Tatiana and the violin she’d play. He was as excited about watching the maestro conduct as he was about the pieces on the program.
After a string quartet and a viola solo came Prokofiev’s Sonata in C Major for two violins, played by sixteen-year-old identical twin sisters, born in China and raised in the United States. The performance was technically flawless and their synchronicity fascinated him. An obviously nervous male cellist played a stunning first movement from the Concerto no. 2 by Carl Davidov and drew a standing ovation from the capacity crowd; then the announcer’s voice filled the hall again.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Psliwesky, surely another Yo-Yo Ma in the making. Next it’s my very great pleasure to introduce to you a young Russian violinist with a huge future. She is known simply as Tatiana and she’s nineteen. She plays for us the Allegro maestoso, the first movement from Paganini’s Violin Concerto no. 1 in D Major.”
The crowd applauded warmly as the tall, auburn-haired young woman stalked into the spotlight and gave a slight bow, her face almost a scowl. She wore a black velvet bustier and an emerald-green skirt. Daniel dug his father in the ribs.
“It’s her,” he whispered.
“Who?”
“The one we saw with the men; she’s the one I’m supposed to listen to.” David nodded his understanding.
Tatiana put the violin to her shoulder, tuned briefly, tightened the screw on her bow, and waited for her entrance to the piece. The sound that poured forth from the violin was extraordinary, very powerful and yet crisply and beautifully melodic, with a rich, mellow tone on the D and G strings.
Daniel felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He closed his eyes, and the fingers of his left hand began to move. The music was flooding over his consciousness, and he felt awash in a
“So how about we strike a deal, young man?”
“Okay.”
“If you come to the concert and the workshop and listen to what Maria tells you, but you don’t have to play, no rehearsals, for the moment, okay? Then I promise that I’ll talk to your mom and dad. I think I can persuade them. In my opinion the danger to your fingers, it is very small if you are careful. And if it means you agree to play, then it’s a worthwhile risk. What do you say?”
Daniel took the outstretched hand and they shook.
“Deal!” Daniel said enthusiastically.
“Good.” Rafael stood up. “Now, I have to say welcome to all these people out there, in this hall, so I guess we better let them in. When you come to the concert, make sure you listen hard to Tatiana. She’ll play Paganini. She is Russian and she is still a raw talent, had very few lessons really. I want to hear most of all what you think of the violin she plays.” Rafael guided him up the aisle with a hand on the small of Daniel’s back.
“Why? What’s so special about it?”
“It belongs to a dear friend of mine, Sergei Valentino, and it was made by Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesú over two hundred and fifty years ago.”
Chapter 8
T wo nights later the string concert started on time at seven thirty. Daniel and his parents were early so they could drink in the atmosphere of the Concert Hall. He’d told them about Tatiana and the violin she’d play. He was as excited about watching the maestro conduct as he was about the pieces on the program.
After a string quartet and a viola solo came Prokofiev’s Sonata in C Major for two violins, played by sixteen-year-old identical twin sisters, born in China and raised in the United States. The performance was technically flawless and their synchronicity fascinated him. An obviously nervous male cellist played a stunning first movement from the Concerto no. 2 by Carl Davidov and drew a standing ovation from the capacity crowd; then the announcer’s voice filled the hall again.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Psliwesky, surely another Yo-Yo Ma in the making. Next it’s my very great pleasure to introduce to you a young Russian violinist with a huge future. She is known simply as Tatiana and she’s nineteen. She plays for us the Allegro maestoso, the first movement from Paganini’s Violin Concerto no. 1 in D Major.”
The crowd applauded warmly as the tall, auburn-haired young woman stalked into the spotlight and gave a slight bow, her face almost a scowl. She wore a black velvet bustier and an emerald-green skirt. Daniel dug his father in the ribs.
“It’s her,” he whispered.
“Who?”
“The one we saw with the men; she’s the one I’m supposed to listen to.” David nodded his understanding.
Tatiana put the violin to her shoulder, tuned briefly, tightened the screw on her bow, and waited for her entrance to the piece. The sound that poured forth from the violin was extraordinary, very powerful and yet crisply and beautifully melodic, with a rich, mellow tone on the D and G strings.
Daniel felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He closed his eyes, and the fingers of his left hand began to move. The music was flooding over his consciousness, and he felt awash in a
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