|Ballade in F Minor
Author: Boomerkid PM
A competition-winning pianist enrolls in a prestigious music university in Leeds. There, she meets a delinquent student who seems to have a distaste for her and today's standard classical musicians. Little did she know, this reputed jerk is actually... A/N: Indefinite hiatus.Rated: Fiction T - English - Friendship/Romance - Chapters: 2 - Words: 13,437 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 12-07-11 - Published: 11-28-11 - id: 2974773
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The whole of the audience stood on their feet as their cheers roared throughout the concert hall.
Standing before the crowd on top of the stage was a rather short Caucasian girl dressed in a beautiful white gown. She was accompanied by two others: one boy and another girl who were both dressed in an equally eloquent fashion on either side of her.
The girl's brown eyes glinted with light, and her silky brown hair was beautifully illuminated by the stage lights that shone upon her, all the while as cold sweat ran through her palms due to the anticipation of the results that will soon be revealed.
She was shivering slightly as she stood before such waves of people before her, letting out a faint sigh as she takes a deep breath to ease the jittery shudders running through her limbs.
'Ah…This is way too much for a thirteen year-old girl like me…' she mused as she lightly clenches her frilly white skirt with her two, snow white but rather big hands for a girl of her age.
No sooner than that, the tall man in the black suit walked back to the centre of the stage, only moments after declaring the second prize winner.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now proceed to crown the first prize winner of the twentieth Guilloise's Young Musician's Piano Concours!"
The crowd went silent at the man's words. Tension and excitement were embedded into everyone's veins for this very moment. The atmosphere was thick, and the Caucasian girl felt the need to gasp for air as she stood in the midst of this deafening silence.
"Thirteen years old from London, England…"
"Miss Leila Shaw!"
At those three words, the crowd jumped onto their feet once more as their cheers erupted like thunder. Their peppy chants echoed through the hall, reaching the ears of the young Caucasian girl who stood still with her mouth agape: Go Leila! We're so proud of you Leila!
'I…can't believe it…I won…'
With slightly teetering footsteps, Leila proceeded to walk dazedly towards the tall man in the suit. A woman was standing alongside him, holding the tray containing the first-prize winner's trophy on top.
Roars pervaded the hall once again as Leila accepted the trophy into her hands. She was kept on the stage for a few more moments as the flashes from multitudes of cameras popped into her vision.
Mixed feelings of both joy and relief assailed her as she let in a deep breath. She had practiced so hard with her own sweat and tears to prepare for this competition, under the strict tutoring and excruciating drilling delivered by her mentor.
Finally, the grueling two weeks of the concours had come to a close, and she reveled in her victory deep inside her heart, savouring this moment with as much time she had left here in Leeds.
After posing for frantic cameramen for what seemed like ages, Leila finally returned to the backstage area with a delightful smile on her face as she held on to her prize. Following close behind were the two fellow young pianists, sullen as they came home empty-handed.
There…in front of her as she reached into the backstage area, she saw the face of the young Asian boy with the straight slicked-up black hair once again as she made her way through.
That was the very same boy that she had her eyes the whole time during these intense two weeks of competition, the one person that Leila felt was her fiercest rival this entire time.
The young Asian boy merely gave a peripheral glance towards Leila, before abruptly averting his gaze back to the wall as he sulked in a corner of the room. His eyes were that of one who was filled with anguish, he was one of the many competitors who had lost out just before the final round.
As Leila walked past the young boy, she could swear she heard him mutter under his breath: Those people don't know a thing about music…it is I who should have won. Leila then slowly cocked her head to the side to see the boy crying silently, all the while as he clenched his trousers with his fair hands.
'…should have won, huh?' Leila mused in silence, tightening the grip on her trophy.
'His Chopin's Ballade no.4 in F Minor two days ago was really beautiful. Even I thought that he really had a good chance to win…he's a really unique pianist,' Leila's expression went a little somber as she recalled his performances from the beginning of the concours till just two days ago.
'His interpretation may be unorthodox and very different from what the rest have played, but I still believe he deserves more than that,' and Leila could only console the boy silently from within her heart before emerging out from the backstage.
'…He would definitely become a very famous pianist someday; and I would really love to meet him again…'
Monday - March 23 - Year 2009
"Hah…hah…I'm finally here…"
Man, getting here on bike was tougher than I thought…cheers to my sense of direction for getting me lost for a good twenty minutes.
Still panting heavily, I wiped off the sweat on my brow as a find a good spot to park my bicycle at the edge of the parking lot. I chained up my bike afterwards.
"Hah…I've never rode this fast in my life…I hope I'm not too late for my first class."
As the spring breeze brushed against my long, silky and wavy brown hair, I looked into my Omega wristwatch strapped onto my left wrist.
And the time displayed on the silver analog watch…was eight-thirty five.
My face turned blue as I fixed my eyes on the watch.
"…Aaaaaaah! I'm already late for class!"
Quickly slinging my rectangular sling bag over my right shoulder, right after adjusting my long black socks and tightening the soles of my Nike sneakers; I dashed like a mad bull towards to entrance of the long, tall and rather grandiose…albeit retro-styled building.
Yeap, this is my very first day here in the Leeds' Royal Music Academy, one of the most prestigious music universities in England. And it is here that I will be taking the first of four years of my course: Major in Piano Performance.
That's right. This is going to be the first big hurdle for me in my pursuit of becoming a world-renown pianist.
And just right on the first day…I've already driven myself into a pinch…
"Damn it! Just where is it?"
I take out a folded up paper from the pocket of my black, short-but-not-mini pleated skirt. There, I unfolded it and fixed my eyes upon the small map of the academy, all the while as I ran through the hallways bustling with people, in search for the class I'm supposed to go to.
As I continued to run down the hallways, I could swear I felt the glances of the many people I had raced past.
The chatters of the people around me reached loud and clear into my perfect-pitched ears: Hey, isn't that Leila Shaw? Wait, that's the girl who won that competition here in Leeds six years back?
Still running, I did my best to block out the voices of the people around me, particularly one that said: Whoa, that piano prodigy girl from six years ago has really turned into one heck of a fine busty babe. Man, if only I could get my ha-
Yeap, I've officially turned off my sense of hearing in the real world at that very moment…temporarily.
I panted heavily as I looked up at the sign on top of the lacquered wooden door of the classroom.
"Well…says here this is a group theory class, one which I'll have to attend three times a week for my course. Each lesson is one hour and fifteen minutes each."
Theory…the blood in my veins went ice-cold as I uttered that one word.
It's not that I'm not good at it, but I just don't see the point with having to put up with it again since I'm aiming for a major in Piano Performance…not Music Science or something like that.
'Then again, I'm studying here for free after all, since I'm under a full scholarship.'
Letting out a sigh, I adjusted the brown jacket I had on me, fastened the red tie around the collar of my long-sleeved white shirt, before putting my right hand on the door knob and turning it.
I had almost made a fatal mistake of not adjusting my hair as well before going in; it was really in a mess due to all of the running. Man, I can't imagine what people would think if I came in looking like a hag.
'Right, here we go,'
Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside the class before closing the door behind me.
And no sooner than that, the eyes of easily thirty people sitting in rows of two in three columns were fixed upon the sole latecomer in this air-conditioned classroom.
'…Man, I hate attention…'
I don't know what's worse: This, or the time six years ago on stage at that prize-giving ceremony.
"S-sorry I'm late, madam!" I bow my head in apology to the middle-aged woman in glasses who was standing in front of the class.
The walls of the classroom were a shade of light lemon yellow, square wooden tiles made up the floor, and two big whiteboards were placed against the wall behind the lecturer.
"Ah! It's our new student from London!" the lecturer cried out rather excitedly as she shifted her glasses.
"Come on, don't be shy. Why don't you step in front of the class for a moment?"
In response to her words, I slowly walked up towards the front of the class. My gaze was towards the floor the entire time as I walked in a light slump.
I really could never get used to many people gazing at me; it's a sort of fear that's been bugging me my entire life.
I've never liked being the centre of attention after all, and I almost went into a panic attack on the first day of the concours six years ago.
"Now then, would you mind introducing yourself to the class?"
Standing in a rather uptight manner, I clenched my skirt with my two hands, just like that time six years ago while averting my gaze all over the place.
I didn't even make an attempt to make eye contact with any of my fellow classmates; such is the intensity of my nervousness.
"E-erm…My name's Leila…Leila Shaw,"
I can't believe I stuttered at another introduction.
"Nice to meet you guys, I'm here to take my Major in Piano Performance,"
Well, at least that last bit was fine...
…but the looks on the faces of my fellow classmates was not fine.
"Leila Shaw? That Leila Shaw that won the Guill-something Young Musician's Piano Concours six years ago?"
"Woah, it's definitely her, guys!"
"And man, look at her, she's one sweet babe all right!"
All those remarks came from the men in the class.
The women, on the other hand…
"Tch, she only won that year because the competition was weak."
"Yeah, and those hooters on her…they must be fake, right?"
"That's right; she was as flat as cardboard six years ago…"
…Fake…As flat as cardboard…six years ago…
Bitches. I'll get them for that. These are genuine.
And I'll have to get along with high-testosterone-filled guys in Leeds as well? Great, I thought I was free from them after leaving London. I guess guys will always be guys…
"Now, now, settle down my dear ladies and gentlemen,"
Phew, thank you so much, lecturer.
"Ehem. Miss Leila Shaw, I'm afraid we don't have any time left to continue your introduction due to your…punctuality…"
That's great. It's not like I want to continue with this introduction any further.
"But you'll be spared from punishment just for today. Anyway, we only have one free seat at the back corner of the class. Mister Wu, mind getting your head off the other end of the table for this beautiful lady to have a seat?"
The lecturer then shot daggers with her ice-cold eyes towards the man sitting at the back left corner of the class.
…He was asleep, with his head resting on the right side of the table meant for two even though he's sitting on the left for some reason.
"Mister Young, would you mind waking up a certain Mister Wu for us, please?" the lecturer directs her command to the guy with spiky hair sitting just one seat in front of the sleeping man.
In response, he takes a rather thick book (most likely the music theory text book) and with a huff, he lifts it overhead before swinging it down on the sleeping man's head with a loud wham.
And the man wakes up with a rather…weird shriek as he lifts his hands up into the air before going into some extravagant martial arts-like pose.
No sooner than that, the sounds of laughter completely pervaded the classroom. The guy with the spiky hair had curled himself up on the floor while hugging his text book tightly, gasping for air while laughing uncontrollably.
"All right, who's the genius responsible for whacking my head?" the man raises his voice while brandishing his fist to the whole of the class.
"Mister Wu! You have the nerve of sleeping in class again!" the lecturer then makes an ominous gaze towards the man, "For this, I'll have you take another extra lesson next week. Combined with your previous offences, this mean's that you'll have six theory classes next week. And you better attend all of them…diligently."
At those words, the whole class went silent and frozen in their places. The lecturer's voice was cold and ominous as ice, as if she had transformed into some kind of drill sergeant.
This particular Mister Wu on the other hand, merely slumped back into his seat, rather un-diligently.
All this while, I still stood at the front of the class with my mouth agape, and I could swear that my face was turning blue.
"Anyway, let's not waste any more time. Miss Shaw, please take a seat next to our very passionate student, Mister Wu."
"Ah- Yes, miss!"
"Oh yeah, before I forget, you may call me Missus Rockwell, Miss Shaw,"
I replied by turning to face her once again before giving a light nod.
Striding across the room briskly, I hastily made way towards my seat at the back of the class. I did not want to stand in the middle of all these people any longer, and that's why I got to my seat as fast as possible.
"Damn it, why does that loser have to get that pretty babe sitting next to him?"
"Yeah, why don't we beat some sense into Mister Sleepy Head later?"
I mentally blocked off the chattering amongst the men of the class.
As I finally took my seat, I set my light brown sling bag down beside the desk and took out the books needed for my lesson.
While taking out my pen and opening my notebook, I glanced towards my left…wanting to greet the classmate who sat beside me, just to be polite.
This guy really has the nerve…
He's just glancing towards the window while resting his head on his right hand, not paying attention to what the lecturer's saying at all. His black eyes gazed towards the streams of sunlight dully as if the lecturer's presence was as good as non-existent.
Taking a closer look at him, he looks…Asian due to his facial features, but he seems more like a mixed-breed, if that's the correct term for it, that is.
His short and slicked-up black hair was slightly curly. And to my knowledge, Asians don't commonly have hair that is as curly as his, though it's only quite mild.
He wore a royal blue hooded-sweatshirt, with the hood down of course. He also sported a pair of blue jeans along with a pair of New Balance sneakers, and that was it.
'Anyway, just what's this guy doing?'
"Erm, excuse me…" I softly called out to him.
Woah, this guy's really cold. He just replied me without even averting his gaze from the window.
'Honestly, what's up with him…'
"H-Hey, don't try to act cool in front of me," I folded my arms as I said those words to him, rather irritated with his demeanor, "Anyway, I don't care if you slack off in class, but at least allow me to know your name, since we'll be attending classes together and all…"
In response, he merely leans back against his seat, stretching his arms into the air as he finally gazes toward the whiteboard in front of him.
"...Your name's…Leila Shaw…is it?"
"Eh? Y-yeah, that's right," so he was paying attention to my introduction after all. I'm surprised at how he fell asleep after that.
"Anyway, what's yours?" I responded while averting my gaze back towards my notebook, taking down the notes on the whiteboard as Missus Rockwell explained some gibberish about Sonatas during the Classical period (music composed during the 1750s to 1820s). She was saying something about Beethoven as well.
However, the fellow classmate beside me didn't give a reply for a good ten seconds.
'…Is he deaf or something?'
I stopped writing and looked towards him once more.
"…Well, what's your nam-"
And as I looked at him, my throat went dry as I take note of his venomous expression.
His black eyes were fixed dully towards the desk as his head leaned forward; his textbook was closed by the way.
Also, he had this really gloomy expression as if he was about to kill someone or something like that. His face had this really intimidating grimace on it for no reason at all.
Anyway, I can't take this guy any longer, and so I continued on taking notes, fully intent on ignoring him.
All of a sudden, the man called out to me with a rather profound voice.
"Jeremy Wu, Major in Piano Performance, just like you," he said while opening his textbook, taking a look at what page the spiky-haired dude in front of him was on.
"…All right, nice to meet you, Jeremy," I muttered under my breath. I'm not too sure if he could hear me though.
Without looking back at him, we both remained silent as the lesson progressed. I merely took notes for the most part of the class.
I really didn't feel the need to exchange any words with Jeremy who sat right beside me…
…at least, I guess that was only for the time being…
"All right, class. Here we have an excerpt of Beethoven's Piano Sonata no.8 in C minor," Missus Rockwell had actually written down the exact fifteen or so bars of an excerpt of this piece on the whiteboard with the blank manuscript on it.
Well, this is one of Beethoven's more famous sonatas after all, so it should be no surprise that she memorized the score.
This sonata even has the nickname "Pathétique". No, it's not pathetic as in English; rather, it was one of the few works thought to be named by Beethoven himself, and it was actually named 'Grande sonate pathétique' (to Beethoven's liking) or something like that by the original publisher of this piece.
Oh well, I wonder why our lecturer is showing us this excerpt anyway…
"Well, since this is a piece for piano, why don't we get one of our piano students to explain how this excerpt should be interpreted?" Missus Rockwell continued.
"Let's see, why don't we let our newest student take the honour?"
Wait, the spotlight's going to be on me once again?
Ah, I'm already getting the shudders of nervousness…
"Erm, but miss, what exactly am I supposed to do?" I asked with a mildly shivering voice. Man, I'm pathetic…as in the English meaning.
Well, think…she just asked me on how this excerpt should be interpreted, but isn't this a little too subjective?
"Miss Shaw, it's exactly is I said. Tell us how this excerpt is supposed to be interpreted," she replied rather apathetically.
Hmm, come to think of it, this is a sonata. And being composed in the classical period, these pieces come with a specific set of rules on how it should be played after all.
As I stood up from my seat, I took a closer look on the manuscript written on the board.
'This is an excerpt from the first movement of this sonata if I remember correctly,'
During the classical period, composers tend to write one or more movements for their sonatas, along with other kinds of pieces as well. This is also true for the baroque period (music composed during the 1600s to 1750s) and the romantic period (music composed during the 1820s to 1900s).
Usually, these sonatas tend to have three movements in total. However, you can also find examples of sonatas with two or four movements. If I remember correctly, Ludwig van Beethoven has written one or more sonatas with two or four movements as well.
Anyway, enough with my lesson on music history, I have to answer this question as soon as possible.
"Let's see, the notations aren't too complicated, you merely have to make sure to sustain the first bass note of each bar for those seven bars over there," I said as I pointed at the second to eighth bars of the excerpt.
"And it says here that there is a crescendo from p to f, so the right thing to do would be a gradual increase in volume from soft to loud along those ten bars, of course. And it should be a clear increase in volume, no doubt, with the last few bars being played loud, its volume absolutely distinct from the earlier bars."
p is a dynamic indication written on the music score to denote that the passage should be played soft. f on the other hand, denotes that it should be played loud. Since there is no mp or mf, which denotes moderately soft and moderately loud respectively, the difference in volume must be absolute.
"Oh yeah, be sure to take note of the staccatissimos at the end, that's all."
A staccatissimo is an accent mark indicating that the last part of the note should be silenced to create a separation between it and the following note. Basically, the sound should be detached from the next note. Also, a staccatissimo is interpreted as being more detached than the staccato, which means the same but with a shorter separation between the notes.
After finishing my answer, I let out a deep sigh and reclined back to my seat. There's no need for me to explain what those dynamics and articulations mean to them, since they're definitely not beginners.
"That's a very good answer, Miss Shaw," the lecturer gives a satisfying nod, "Class, remember to take note of these dynamic notations throughout the score. They are important because it denotes how the composer intends their pieces to be played."
That's right, classical music is no easy business. You have to take note of all those ornaments and dynamics in order to play it right, not just the notes.
Screw up on them one bit, and you won't give a good impression to your examiners during examinations, or the judges during music concours.
"Pfft, clear increase in volume my foot…"
No sooner as I sat back down, Jeremy sighs in irritation as he makes a remark about my answer, still resting his head on his right hand.
"What do you mean? It clearly states that it's from p to f, not mp to mf," I retorted.
Jeremy then lets out a snort.
"I guess so-called contest-winning musicians of today really don't know a thing about Beethoven's music,"
Hold on, what did he just say? Is he trying to make fun of people like me?
"And just what are you trying to say, Jeremy?" I turn to face him while crossing my arms.
"…Man, even music academies of today can't teach anything right," Jeremy merely lets out a sigh before cocking his head towards me slightly.
"If you haven't noticed, Leila, Beethoven has barely written mp or mf in any of his scores at all, probably even none," Jeremy says in a rather unamused manner, "You should know what that means, right?"
My senses went cold for a second.
Beethoven hasn't written any mp of mf dynamics in his music?
"Ah-" I let out a light gasp as I partially grasped at what he's trying to say.
"Heh, you see? f and p in Beethoven's music is very subjective. Since there's no mf or mp, you can interpret f and p in his music as likewise," Jeremy says with a smirk.
"See? Just because Beethoven writes f, it doesn't mean it has to be clearly loud. Heck, it can even be played as loud as mf or even mp for all I care, same goes for p. Oh yeah, that crescendo can be as faint as you want."
"What? But that's too subjective for classical music, and a sonata at that!" I retorted, rather insulted at his remark, "If it's truly that vague, than why did Beethoven write those dynamic notations in the first place? I've been interpreting his works just like it's written for all my life!"
Jeremy merely replies with a sigh as he rests his other hand against his forehead.
"Goodness, why don't you read his scores and see for yourself? Musicians nowadays really have no speck of artistic value and difference in interpretation. And all you competition-cracked-musicians sound the same when you play, following everything that's written to the dot, it's boring and no fun at all."
At those last words, rage was starting to boil inside of me.
"Oh? Then since you are such a genius in music, why aren't you a world-famous pianist already?"
"Well, the same goes for you. Ain't that right, little miss first-prize winner?"
That pompous smirk of his…I'm really starting to hate it.
"All right, Miss Shaw. I see that you still have quite the burst of energy left to answer a few more of my questions."
Great, Missus Rockwell overheard our argument and called out to me just as I raised my fist at Jeremy.
I stood up once again while still glaring at Jeremy. He gave a snicker as he averted his gaze towards the window once more…that jerk.
"Miss Shaw, may you explain to the class what this musical term means?" the lecturer pointed her marker towards a certain two words apparently written in German.
Ugh…this one's actually pretty hard.
Musical terminologies are terms written on musical scores which also tell the reader how a particular passage of the piece should be played, just like dynamic notations and so on.
For example, allegro is a term to denote that the tempo for the piece should be lively and fast. Another example is agitato, denoting that a particular passage of the piece should be played in an agitated manner.
These musical terminologies are most commonly printed in Italian.
However, I haven't come across a German one in ages…and now I'm really in a big pinch.
My eyes stared blankly at those two words for a good five seconds. Sweat ran through my palms like specks of raindrops.
Ugh, somebody save me! I don't understand what those two words mean at all! If only I had read more German before coming here…uuu~
"Hah…Leila, you should play the piano with expression…"
"Mm?" did I just hear Jeremy's smug voice again?
"With expression? What do you mean?" I raised my voice at Jeremy while brandishing my fist at him again. I was still standing.
"That is correct, Miss Shaw," The lecturer says to me all of a sudden.
Just what did I get correct?
"mit Ausdruck is German for 'with expression'. My, you really are a gifted student after all, Miss Leila Shaw,"
Wait…'with expression'…was the answer?
"Ah…" I stood still with my mouth agape for quite a while, as if my sense of time had been frozen completely.
No sooner than that, an overwhelming force pulled me back into my seat, jerking my head backwards for a moment.
"Wh-what happened, ah…"
As a turned around to face Jeremy, I catch sight of his right hand pulling against the collar of my jacket, as well as his pair of black eyes gazing right at me.
'…His face…why is his face so close to me?'
Hold on, just what am I feeling all of a sudden?
Slapping my cheeks, I avert my gaze away from Jeremy before crossing my arms.
"…" and Jeremy lets out a sigh before pulling his hand off my jacket, "How long are you planning to stand there like that? Geez…"
As he said that to me, I finally took a good look at what's going on in the classroom.
The girls were secretly whispering to each other, I overheard one of them say something like: She's really a klutz after all, isn't she?
The guys on the other hand…
"Damn it, Jeremy…how dare you lay your dirty hands on my lovely Leila…!"
"Woah, she's a theory geek…my oh my…"
I think I'd better block off my sense of hearing for just a while longer, as well as my sense of reality.
'…I really hate attention…'
Finally, we're dismissed after seventy-five minutes of theory class.
Checking my watch for the time after packing my things, I stood up from my seat, put my sling bag over my shoulder and proceed to walk out of the door as fast as possible.
It was no sooner than as I had stepped out to the hallway that I heard a familiar voice call out to me.
"What is it, Jeremy?"
Turning around behind me after getting clear of the door, my gaze met with Jeremy's.
"Any chance you're heading for practice right now?" Jeremy asks while scratching his back, he had a black sling back over his left shoulder.
"Nah, I'm thinking of meeting up with…a certain someone…" As I said those words, I avert my gaze towards the floor while twiddling my thumbs. I could swear my face had gone red just from saying… 'A certain someone'.
"I see…your boyfriend?" Jeremy replied peripherally.
"Ah…h-h-h-how did you know?"
Jeremy sighs as I raised my voice at him while flapping my arms against my waist.
"Oh? That was just a lucky guess," he replied with a smirk.
"Guh…damn you, Jeremy…"
"Hahahaha! Oh well, see you later…theory geek,"
After letting out a laugh filled to the brim with evil, Jeremy walks past me while lifting his right hand up in acknowledgement.
And those last two words he said…how I just hate them to the core...
"I am not a theory geek! It is you who fed me the answer!"
…He got away, damn it.
'Hah…anyway, I hope I can meet up with Chester before his violin lesson…better hurry.'
Taking a deep breath to calm down my mildly-rapidly beating heart, I took out the printout of the map of the academy and rushed down the hallways.
'…About Jeremy...what's up with him anyways?'
As I weaved through the hoards of students, apologizing to a few of them I ran into on the way; the delinquent sitting next to me in theory class popped up in my head for some reason.
'He doesn't seem to enjoy this music university at all, at least from what I saw during class, so why is he here anyway?'
Recalling the remarks he made earlier in class, I almost missed the corner I'm supposed to take.
'…Oh well, it's not like I'm not used to meeting weird people wherever I go…'
Well, that concludes my first impression of Jeremy, I guess.
At that time, it hadn't even crossed my mind that the fateful meeting between two people who last saw each other six years ago…
…would come so abruptly on that very day.
Ballade no.4 in F Minor – Act 1 Part 1
To be continued…