I remember with infinitely more pleasure the first concert performance the following year, a triumph such as composers rarely enjoy. The acclaim of the young people who filled the Casino de Paris completely reversed the verdict of the year before. (Incidentally, Saint-Saëns, a sharp little man – I had a good view of him – attended this performance; whether or not he was at the première and walked out during the opening bassoon solo I do not know.) Monteaux again conducted, and the musical realization was ideal. He was doubtful about playing it on a programme that included a Mozart concerto played by George Enescu, and the Bach Double Concerto played by Enescu and a violinist whose name I forget. Shortly before his 1914 Rite revival, Monteux had enjoyed a great success performing Petrushka in concert, and he was proud of his prestige among avant-garde musicians. I argued that Spring was more symphonic, more of a concert piece, than Petrushka. Let me say here that Monteux, almost alone among conductors, never cheapened The Rite or looked for his own glory in it, and he continued to play it all his life with the greatest fidelity. At the end, the entire audience jumped to its feet and cheered. I came on stage and hugged Monteux, who was a river of perspirations; it was the saltiest hug of my life.