the
right instants, and I managed to turn the pages without spilling
everything all over the floor or uttering a primal scream. After that,
each page turn became easier, and I found that by the time we were well
into the piece, I was breathing again, and I could follow the score. I
began to get cocky too, and took a few glances at the audience out of
the corner of my eye. I could feel the rapture, starting up out there
somewhere like a wisp of cool air. She was playing beautifully,
passionately. Mr. Rossi was conducting as brilliantly as he could--at
least his expansive gesticulations looked fervent. I had heard the
piece so many times--the solo passages anyway--that I knew it by heart.
But hearing it then, pouring from Jenny's viola backed by the
shimmering of Berlioz' orchestration, it took on a sublime quality that
I had completely forgotten. It had been a long time since I had really
listened to "Harold in Italy", and all the old memories started to come
back.

The second movement has a quality like a caravan painted in broad,
colorful strokes. It starts out very softly, and builds up as the
caravan approaches, passes by the listener, and then eventually recedes
into the distance. It's a striking section, and personally I think
it's the best part of the whole work. By that time, I was alert again,
and was trying to gauge the audience reaction. I had started to
recognize individual faces, and remember where they were--I had been
turning pages for more than fifteen minutes. I kept track of where
people were looking, whether they folded their hands, how they tilted
their heads at certain points. I didn't hear a lot of coughing and
shuffling either. As my eyes grew accustomed to looking at them, I
could see further, beyond the first few rows. They really were--I
suppose a Victorian might have said "transported"--by the music. I
flipped the page again at Jenny's nod.

I had noticed previously one rather large woman near the front row.
She was all dressed up with several long strings of pearls and a long
dress of medium golden-brown shades with lacy white frills and a high
collar. She had pale, white skin, and her brunette hair was tied up in
a hideous bun and topped with a white flower. The whole outfit made
her look like an overdressed turkey dinner with all the trimmings and
those little white caps on the drumsticks. She seemed for a long while
to be even more "transported" than anyone else. I cou