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Updated: May 18, 2025
Over his face stole an expression of happiness, of gentleness; his eyes became darker and seemed to radiate light. In a word he became beautiful. Raisky began to think the thoughts of Vassyvkov, to see what he saw. His surroundings vanished, and boys and benches were lost in a mist. More notes ... and a wide space opened before him. A world in motion arose.
Raisky trembled. His guardian's lecture affected his nerves. Like Vassyvkov, the music master began to bend his fingers. If Raisky had not been ashamed before his guardian he would not have endured the torture. As it was he succeeded in a few months, after much trouble, in completing the first stages of his instruction.
In a week he had forgotten this picture also. He loved music to distraction. At school he had an enduring affection for the dull Vassyvkov, who was the laughing stock of the other boys.
It was clearly no use. When Vassyvkov played his hand seemed to play of itself. Tired of the torment, Raisky begged his guardian to allow him to take piano lessons. "It will be easier on the pianoforte," he thought. His guardian engaged a German master, but took the opportunity of saying a few words to his nephew. "Boris," he said, "for what are you preparing yourself?
He gropes in his consciousness it was thus that his mother's arms cradled him, his face pressed to her breast ... her figure grows in distinctness, as if she had risen from the grave.... He had begun to take lessons from Vassyvkov. For a whole week he had been moving the bow up and down, but its scratching set his teeth on edge. He caught two strings at once, and his hand trembled with weakness.
His eyes as they gazed into the distance, apparently seeking something strange, enticing, and mysterious, became wild and gloomy, and often filled with tears. He was no longer Vassyvkov, but another creature. His pupils dilated, his eyes ceased to blink, becoming clearer and deeper; his glance was proud and intelligent; his breath came long and deep.
A boy would seize Vassyvkov by the ear, crying, "Get out, stupid, blockhead," but Raisky stood by him, because Vassyvkov, inattentive, sleepy, idle, who never did his work even for the universally beloved Russian master, would every afternoon after dinner take his violin, and as he played, forget the school, the masters and the nose-pullings.
Suddenly he heard a noise, he was awakened with a start, Vassyvkov had ceased to play; the moving, musical waves vanished, and there were only the boys, benches and tables. Vassyvkov laid aside his violin, and somebody tweaked his ear. Raisky threw himself in a rage on the offender, struck him all the while possessed by the magic notes. Every nerve in his body sang.
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