The heart beats steadily, more certain.
Lengthy years can't leave a mark!
For our shadows are eternal
On the Galernaya street arc.

And because we had connected,
In that moment, blissful-hearted,
As the moon was resurrected
Up above the Summer Garden.

Akhmatova.

The long journey was finally over, and in front of me spread the pure 18th-century classicism of St. Petersburg. The Northern Venice, built on swamps, by imperial command of Peter I. The city that was immortalised by both in poetry and in prose, in the different variations of the St. Petersburg texts, and in music different shades of its history by Mugorsky and Glinka among others. During travel, I had read the writings of Tchaikovsky, his music was in particular, inspired by the enchantment of St. Petersburg's white nights, and the stark contrasts of winter: black tree trunks, snow cover, suppressive weight of granite, and sharpness of cast-iron fences. I was looking forward to experiencing similar notices myself, to experience the full cycle of years and seasons! St Petersburgs vast squares, parks, palaces and islands, wrought-iron gates and fountains were now mine to explore, with certain limits, as the current Imperial palaces were not fully open to the public.

We arrived in the middle of a celebration, Katherine and I, as it turned out that the Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna had given birth to a heir to the crown, a couple of weeks earlier, in the summer residence, of the Imperial Tsars since the 18th century, a complex of vast gardens, of fountains and palace-complexes that rivaled the Versailles in its splendor. The current Imperial family, divided their time between the vast palace complex of Ermitage and the Tsarskoye Selos Alexander Palace, and that summer residence. The Grand Duchesses were reportedly given a strict Victorian upbringing, but the glittering Romanov court life was extremely far from the daily life the people and the reforms that were hoped for. The reign of the Tsar had begun with bad omens, darker clouds seemed to be gathering in the sky, but now, with the birth of a tsarevich hope was in the air, or so people muttered in the streets.

It was a hot August, and the sky in St Petersburg was incredibly blue, the air seeming to tremble with heat. Katherine and I walked peacefully to our apartment, we lived temporarily on Mohovaya, located near Fontanka and Liteniy prospekt. It was one of many rental apartments. The houses in that street were all beautiful and classic, 18th- century style, the one we lived in was pale pink in color. Inside the apartment was tasteful, it concisted of three rooms, all elegant, with brightly colored fabrics on the walls, lots of books, and a small harpischord, a few beeswax candles, and an icon in the corner, stowe-nook, and simple and elegant bedroom, with screens, and windows that were narrow, but high. One of Katherines acquaintances, had made their apartment available to us until the end of November, after which either I would have passed my entrance exam, or I wouldn´t. I had spent most of my last days in Paris walking and pondering my options, realistically, and most part of the journey from Paris to St Petersburg too.

I had asked Katherine everything she knew, even more than once, she had been incredibly sarcastic when I wanted to repeat the information over and over again and build contingency plans if I couldn't get in. Katherine seemed to have a strange confidence in my skills, she was absolutely sure everything was going well. I tried not to hope too much, but still during the voyage my condition ranged from anxiety to back and forth, alleviated only by writing, and walking on the different train corridors.

From Katherine I had learned that, all the legendary Imperial theaters in Russia were under the direct remit and ageis of the Imperial court. I had tree options, the big three of imperial Saint Petersburg Theaters – Mariinsky, Mihailovsky and Alexandrinsky. Mariinsky was named after Maria Alexandrovna, the wife of Alexander II reigning at that time, it was founded in 1860 or so. It was designed and constructed by the architect Alberto Cavos, in pure rococo-style. The builders of the Mariinsky Theater took great care of its acoustics. Under the floor of the orchestra pit there lies a thick layer of broken crystal, which endows the orchestra with an additional "silver" sound, or so I had heard from Katherine and Renee, as they had often visited in different performances there with various friends.

The Mihailovsky was opened by decree of Emperor Nicholas I in 1833, it owes its name to Grand Duke Mikhail, the youngest son of Paul I, the Mihailovsky Palace, located in Teatralnaja ploshad in the very heart of St Petersburg served as the Grand Prince's residence. Thus, the theater became an imperial chamber stage performing for high-ranking audience from the imperial family and close ones. Notable guests had included in different times Alexander Pushkin, Tchaikovsky, Tolstoy, and actress Sarah Bernhardt, among others. Once in the constellation of the Imperial Theaters, Alexandrinsky Theater came to be a long-time cradle of Russian drama, but as I was not actress that option for me was out.

After much deliberation, I had come to the conclusion that I would try to apply to Mariinsky. I had all the necessary documents, certificates, letters of recommendation in folder, and I had prepared for the audition in case I was heard relatively quickly, but I doubted that. All too soon, or so it seemed, The Mariinsky theather loomed in front of me. When viewed from a distance the building looked like a huge turquoise and white cake, all clear lines, massive in its simple elegance. I straightened my light hat and raised my chin and stepped inside. It was all coolness, sparkling glowing white, creamy neoclassical, golden ornaments, dark glowing, red. Embroidered Romanov eagles, Empire furniture, wide, wide proportions.

I suddenly felt like a insect that would be deposited soon.

In one large room, with a big windows, there was high dark table. A row of men in suits and mustaches, did browse through my folder, each in their turn. The smell of wax and cigar did linger in the air. They glanced at me quickly, noted something, my pale looks, or my dress of parisian fashion, gloves, and hat adorned with ferns and roses, or my trembling fingers.. One of them asked me to wait outside. Time seemed to solidify, and suddenly my name was called in its patronymic form, and I was directed to a small room at the end of another floor, of a large hallway.

That room was large and airy, bright sunlight gleamed in the piano that dominated the room utterly. At that moment, I realized I was in the audition. My nerves tightened to an extreme and I felt a convulsion of cold creeping fear. There was only one man there, he was dressed in a dark-fitting suit, with long hair pulled back, a high narrow forehead, a black beard, and had an enigmatic look. Soon the pianist entered and slipped behind the piano, carrying sheet music. The enigmatic man stated in pure french, Mademoiselle, Commencez s'il vous plaît !

I took a deep breath, corrected my posture, and started. The sparkling Rossini

echoed in the room. My diction was clear, and tone shimmering. When I had finished that last demanding, sweeping final run, the man looked at me for a long time, nodded to the pianist, and marched out of the room. The pianist, putting together his notes, pointed out to me in wishper, that man was Glazunov, a composer and protégé, colleague of Rimsky-Korsakov, and the current director of the St. Petersburg Conservatory.

There was a dim, ragged poster on side street, not far from Mariinsky, that read in a sophisticated cyrillic cursive font, that was like a ballet on a page - "Tchaikovsky's opera Dame Pique, performed Mariinsky in 1902, in the role of Lisa world-famous soprano Solomija Krušelnytska."I stopped to look at the poster, and I thought that the soprano in question was the same one who sang the lead role in La Scalas Madama Butterfly. The performance, was so marvelous it made me want to try my own wings. And now, not a half a year later, I was on a new adventure. I couldn't wait to see who I could meet while living here in St Petersburg, and whether I would meet anyone with interesting interests. Renee's letter package was waiting to be taken to Dom Muruzi, I had passed that magnificent house several times, for it was relatively close to Mohovaya.

Few days after my audition Katherine and I walked leisurely around and we scouted all the different kanals, larger like Moika, Jekaterininski, Fontanka, and magnificent varying bridges. On the Fontanka there is 15 bridges, one of them of the Jegipetski most, egyptian bridge is a real miracle, well all of them are in their various ways. On the Jekaterininski there are 21 bridges, one of them Bankovski most, the griffin-statues are marvels to wonder at, and so is Livinyi most, with its golden lion-statues.On Moika there are 15 bridges, the Pervyi sadovyi most, the first Garden Bridge, is wonderful, and the Malyi - Konyushennyy most is is an oversubscription for a narrow pair of bridges placed in the same direction, the view is charming. So far the Sphinxs-statues guarding the Neva shore were a favorite among us, or strolling in English Embankment, and along the epic splendor Dvortsovaya Naberezhnaya all the glittering palaces that are there.

Here, light and the proximity of water changed everything, the clouds moved low and the rippling light of the water was reflected in the buildings, even then when no water was in evidence.

I was surrounded by the Elizabethan Baroque, a style developed by Rastrell one of the absolute highlights of his art was Smolny Cathedral, a former boarding school for noble girls. It was all shades of deep light turqoise with cream accents. It is absolutely enormous, as I found out as stood in front of it and watched as the towers climbed towards heavens, that was the exact same shade as the sky. The sight was remarkably beautiful, but the proportions are so wide that only further afield can the building in question be properly appreciated, at close range one can only notice the sophistication and massiveness that is graceful and astounding, and stunningly glorious, soulfully beautiful.

Externally, St. Petersburg could be seen as a triumph of rationalism, both foreign and local observers see the capital shaped by Baroque and neoclassicism as an example of architectural harmony. This claim is supported by countless artisans and paintings by Martynov, Sadovinkov, or Surikov for example. All the massive historical paintings, watercolors, drawings and lithographs are so accurate that not a single sign on Nevsky prospekt has been left undescribed, but at the same time the accurately drawn people in their various dresses, umbrellas, and uniforms, tophats, form a backdrop, to the city's extensive proportions, in describing the details of the city, the artists did not depict its soul, its magical appeal, or its remarkable cruelty, literature and music were more successful, something unspoken, like Pushkin, Lermontov in his verses, or Dostojevsky I pondered as I walked the length of Nevsky prospekt, as I wanted to see the new newly completed Singer House, with its Art Nouveau architecture, was reportedly quite unique. And soon I was looking right at it. A six-story Art Noveau building, with rich statue details, it was crowned by a glass tower with a globe at the top. The building gives the illusion of elevation, but it does not overshadow Kazan Cathedral, which is in its immediate vicinity of sorts. The Singer House dominated the corner and drew the eye from far away, it is located at the intersection of Nevsky and Jekaterininski kanal, that is going to be future landmark I pondered as I turned to walk back to home, turning my back its gleaming newness.

Back home I found out that Father had written a letter to Mohovaya, in it he congratulated me on my achievements, and regretted not being there when we arrived, as he was on a business trip to the Caucasus, after which he would go to check the situation in Manchuria. He gave me the information of his local bank, from it I could raise as many rubles as I needed, as long as I remember the exchange rate correctly.

So Katherine and I went straight to Gostinyi Dvor and to then the Apraksin Dvor. Local fashion was in keeping with what was in Paris, but I still bought a lilac silk dress, and I thought that maybe I would decorate the neckline with lavender ribbons. I also bought few amber beads, and silk ribbons of different colours. Katherine bought a yellow silk dress, and a light turquoise travel dress, and a few pairs of gloves, as well as a packet of stationery and new ink pens, when I asked about new hats, she shook her head resolutely, she disliked hats, with venement passion.

So few weeks later near end of August I recived a letter. It was written in flowing callicraphy, and in french, it stated that Mademoiselle Jelizaveta Petrovna Grayzona, 19 was accepted, as a student, with full scholarship, to the opera department of the St. Petersburg Conservatory on Teatralnaja ploshad. It was accompanied by a sealed letter that read in a flowing steep handwriting, compliments from of the director Glazanov as of one of the best auditions he had heard in years.

I found that sudden smile caressed my features, I had won and a new world was waiting for me.

A/N: As ever, my greatest gratitude to readers, commentators, and, lurkers and followers. I never would have thought I would find another chosen family here, but the myriad ways of LMMs fandom are deep and connecting. You are all wonderful!

Happy New Year and Best wishes!

The text, is a literature-genre, which describes St. Petersburg and its mythologies. Pushkin's poem Медный всадник (The Bronze Horseman, 1833) it deals among other things the landmark equestrian statue of Peter I and the flood of 1824, which was one of the worst in the history of the city. The poem is one of the most well-known examples of the text-tradition, and it is featured hevily in all editions of Pushkins work.

Solomija Krušelnytska(1872-1952) was a soprano of an international renown, she had totally awesome repertoire, with a lot of world premiers. She did in fact did sing Butterfly in its second reworked premier, in 1904 and also was asked to perform in a private concert for the family of Tsar Nicholas II around 1899 or so.

Apparently the times that I have spent in St. Petersburg and in Russia generally, bleeds into text, some of the landmarks and places that Elizabeth explores in this and future chapters are few of my favorites.

So fun armchair tourism for everyone!