"And the train of shadows has no the end
From vase's granite to the palace of grand.

There whisper each other my white nightly skies
Of somebody's love, very secret and high.

And all shines with jasper and pearl in the night…
But nobody knows a source of the light."

Akhmatova

All around me St Petersburg was bubbling beneath the surface, the war with Japan was progressing poorly, still. The workers, and civil officials from the Pesky neighborhood, the bourgeois in their homes and offices in the Vasiliev Ostrov' area, wanted changes, had been demanding for years, reforms that were not met, politcal radicals met secretly and planning a new wave of change, one that would succeed, more bombs, or mass-riots, perhaps, direct action. Merchants, did their trade, artisans, their orders, and formed wider networks, pesants hoped for better times, no more failing harvests, but the omens were bad. There was a feeling of a strong thunder in the air, something would erupt soon.

It was awkwardly moist, soaky hot, so Katherine and I we decided to visit and to enjoy the splendors of Summer Garden. My first walk in there was something out of a dream, all the green shady oaks, statues, all wonderful Greek and Roman ones, Diana, Afrodite, Psyke, glimmering sunshine, and shadows that intermingled in the gravelled, well traveled paths.

It turned out that I had a few weeks before I had to start at Conservatory and Mariinsky, so I decided to go to Tver to meet Virginie. So we, Katherine and I traveled by train to Tver. My first impression of Tver was charming, the former medieval dilapidated center of the city was replaced by neoclassical buildings at the behest of Catharine II in the 18th century, when the center was completely rebuilt. I began to notice that the neoclassical style was everywhere, but I did not mind, as I happened to find that style charming, for it reminded me of my wonderful time with Nathalie.

We found quite easily the house where Virginie and her family lived, one window was open, there was music, Rimsky-Korsakov, switched to Chopin. We had bought flowers, chocolates, and I had acquired for Virginie hair ribbons, and sheet music. We knocked and soon the door was opened by a stressed-looking maid who stated that the hostess or host was not at home, only a daughter who did nothing but play the piano, all the time, we assured the maid that we were coming to see the daughter, and after thinking for a while she let us in, and asked us to go further to the salon.

The salon was wide, a few bookshelves on the wall, the space dominated by a black piano, in front of which sat Virginie, she was wearing a pale lilac, her hair in a long, thick braid. She shook her hands, and was just about to start playing again when Katherine said, "Aren't you greeting your guests?" Hearing Katherine's voice, Virginie turned around, and quickly looked at us, in disbelief, and said, softly"are you both really here, oh how wonderful!" She got up and embraced us with a few gilding steps, her hands were very cold, and the bright red tint glowed in her cheeks that seemed almost translucent, in their slimness. Katherine had gone out for a walk, as she had a few acquaintances to greet and, descreetly did leave us alone. I looked at Virginie for a long time, she seemed much more subtle and fragile than I remembered.

I handed Virgine the package, she opened it deftly and quickly, suddenly a few tears rolled down on the exposed sheet music as she fingered hairpins, in their packet. She wrapped herself in a scarf, in the corner of the couch, her long lashes lay down and a lovely, dazzling, yet unhealthily sleepy smile spread across her face. The air smelled of that particular perfume, L´Origan de Coty, spreading from her hair, the hours flowed past, like grains of sand between my fingers.

We sat on the couch side by side, I sat next to her, and she put her head on my shoulder, or I put my head on her knees. There were others in the salon, but no one was surprised, even though we sat in it for hours without knowing how to leave. Never before had I felt such joy, togetherness, such magic, creative power, and thoughts that immediately erupted into words, it was no friendship, it was love, surprising, sudden, touchingly painful, and true.

The days rolled by, time seemed to stretch, like melted honey. We walked hand in hand, all over Tver in the bright sunshine, the beautiful dome-roofed Orthodox churches, bright clear lines, rose towards the heavens, like the glittering jewels left on the ground. The grass and the trees and shrubs on the shore, leaning towards the edges of the Tverska river, were contemplative, intense green, and the sky was a bright glowing blue. One embankment was bordered by beautiful, classic, pastel-colored low-rise houses. Virginie told me about the history of the governorate, and emphasized in particular the development of the textile industry in the region, and the ever-increasing rail traffic, to Moscow and St. Petersburg.

The weather changed, it started to rain, a soft warm ooze. Virginie played the piano with devotion and I listened, tears in my eyes. I should have already left, towards St Petersburg, and my destiny in the glittering halls of Mariinsky, but somehow, Mariinsky's shimmering gold, and those possible future victories, didn't seem tempting when the heat of the Virginie was next to me.

Katherine looked at us, sadly, sincerely and compassionately, as she discussed the local news and Virginies past studies in Paris, with Virginies parents, they were officials in the area, her mother a teacher, and father a civilservant. Katherine walked around Tver as busy as a bumblebee, she was always going, and doing something.

On the last day of the visit, after drinking dark strong tea, with raspberry jam, and small cabbage and potato pies, and seljanka-soup. I decided to perform. I negotiated with Virgine, and we we invited the whole house and some of the neighbors to listen. The piano sounded dream light, and my voice flowed into it seamlessly as Puccini glowed, the aria was from Tosca, Vissi d´arte. So in the setting sun we reached a common harmony that surpassed our first meeting and performance at Nathalies house.

And almost too soon after the performance, I knew I had to leave, leave Tver, and Virginie, the thought of saying goodbye was extremely painful. I wrote a long letter late at night, which I slipped under the Virginies pillow, and another, which I gave her as we said goodbye in the salon. She looked at me for a long time, and then a light smile spread on her beloved features, pressing her own letter into my hand, words not needed between us. I smiled at Virginie with my slowly brightening smile, leaving my heart into her keeping. The last thing I heard as I walked down the street, slowly, laboriously, was Mozart's light tunes, glimmering.

There was a rainbow in the sky almost directly in front of me, spreading out into a wide arc, and I remembered the belief that a gold treasure could be found at the end of the arc. I don't know what the appearance of the arc now meant, but with renewed strength, I smiled into the sky and boarded the train, towards St Petersburg, and Mariinsky..

A/N: Puccini opera Tosca(1899) is wonderful, dramatic and tragic, and the aria vissi d arte is from the II-act.