At the fifth lesson the professor [Hugo Becker] was unusually friendly and I was glad to see Ochi Albi [a student translator] again. He told me how highly the professor thought of me and how rapid my progress was. “You learned to hold the bow in four lessons. Some can’t master it in years. Your bow arm is in almost perfect position on all four strings. The professor has decided to make a great exception and begin to work with you right now on the finest music for our instrument.” / Becker spoke again and Ochi Albi translated. “The situation is now drastically changed. You are not a pupil any more. You are ready to work on great music and therefore you and I are equals.” / “We have to be frank, and I expect you to express your opinions freely.” He took his cello and said, “I will play the beginning of the Dvořák Concerto – only the beginning. After I have played, you will do the same. Then we will discuss the merit of each performance.” / He began. I saw a gust of resin fly, rise and fall in all directions. Ripping off the hair, his bow knocked on the sides of his cello. The stick hit the strings. After some noisy thumping on the fingerboard with his left hand, he stopped. I did not dare look at him. He asked something. His voice sounded happy. I looked at his face and saw that he was happy. / “Herr Professor asked how you liked it,” said Ochi Albi. / “It was terrible,” I said. << less