Professor von Glehn was not very demanding, and he did not seem to mind hearing me play the same étude by Duport, lesson after lesson. Evidently he was resigned to my apathy and lack of progress. I knew, of course, that I could do better, for when I was alone I played a great many pieces, composed cadenzas to concertos, and wrote a difficult caprice for unaccompanied cello. The goodhearted professor, unable to hurt anyone’s feelings, never scolded me or demanded explanations. He also could not refuse when I asked permission to appear in one of the student recitals. He shook his head sadly and said, “If you want. I hope you find something to play.” / At these concerts it was customary for the least interesting student to open the program. The more advanced ones followed, and the program always closed with the best. I was placed first. The piece I chose was the vulgar but flashy Souvenir de Spa, by Servais. The excitement created by my performance came as an enormous surprise, not only to me, but also to my perplexed professor. At my next lesson the classroom was crowded with students wanting to hear me. When I began to play the old Duport étude in my old indifferent fashion, the professor stopped me. / “Please go home,” he said. “I can’t understand you.” << less