Sergey Prokofiev diaries: May 1917

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

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text excerpt

A little while later, meeting her on deck, I asked her if she would play some more. At first she declined, but when I said that I was not a player at all, later admitting that, perhaps, just a little, not as good as she was, she consented, but only oncondition that I play for her as well. We* agreed to draw lots for which of us should begin and tossed down a 3-kopeck piece. 'Heads!' I cried, but it was tails. I assumed that meant I would have to play, having lost the toss, but she exclaimed sulkily: 'Oh, its tails. So it's my turn.'

And proceeded to play a Beethoven sonata. I was impressed by her confidence and intelligent, nuanced playing and praised it, not omitting, however, to make a few suggestions for improvement. But the girl proved to have an exceptionally high opinion of her own abilities, no doubt being a star in her local Sarapul music institute, so chewing her lip she said: 'All right, then, now you play something.'

excerpt from 'Sergey Prokofiev diaries: May 1917' pp. 202 (177 words)

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