The Nightingale of St. Petersburg

Chapters 3-4

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.