<< -- 3 -- Kelly Ferjutz THE PIANO
For awhile thereafter, Number 1713 was retired from the concert stage so that a thorough reconditioning could be undertaken. One wheel was replaced, along with several strings, and even some felts, but finally, after one last polish, the piano was declared ready, once again.
There was a slight incident in the moving process, but the young man whose leg was broken was assured that he'd be as good as new in a short time.
There followed a few years of peaceful recitals, and then, again, the piano seemed to assert its will, to disagree with some element of a performance. Since the instrument could not talk to express itself, one never knew exactly, if it was the music chosen or the player that caused the rebellion. But, eventually, management realized that chaos seemed to follow Number 1713, and with regret the piano was consigned to a life as a teaching instrument rather than that of a performer.
Madame Kocsis, who had not the temperament to be a performer but was a marvelously gifted teacher heard about the beautiful, shiny piano and ventured to the gallery where it reposed in sulky silence. In a very short time, beautiful notes cascaded from the formerly-famous instrument, and Madame immediately knew that she would produce clever and extremely capable students with the help of this piano.
To be sure, there were a few mishaps over the next years, but generally, it was considered that a change of repertoire on behalf of the student could solve most problems. The piano did not seem to actually have a preference for any given type or nationality of music. Rather, it was the matching of music to player that seemed to cause the most problems.
Of course, there were those who thought the piano's new behavior had another cause. They were determined that it was Madame's use of the finest, softest Kashmir scarf to caress the piano every morning that was really at the heart of the business. They could be right. Who knows these things for certain?