Shadow of great britain

The lights went out and silence fell in the Astrid Amphitheater.

In the darkness above the stage, no one could see what was happening.

Chopin stood behind Arthur. He took off his gloves, revealing his hands that could produce countless moving notes.

His palms were covered with sweat, and nervousness and worry were written on his face at the same time.

"Mr. Hastings, are you really okay?"

Arthur stood up with a smile. He took off the Guy Fawkes mask and put it on Chopin's face.

"Frederick, don't worry about me, I feel very good now. Just like I promised you before, I will give you a stage to fully show yourself, and then it depends on whether you can grasp it."

Chopin asked: "But...but your hand is bleeding..."

As a pianist, no one understood the impact of arm injuries on a musical career better than Chopin.

Seeing how worried he was, Arthur could only smile helplessly: "Frederick, I'm not injured, and Mr. Bertrand is fine. What you see may not be the truth, and you may not be able to tell the truth. You can see it. I did bleed a little, but it was not as serious as you thought. Besides, Mr. Bertrand and I are not the only ones bleeding in this world? The same goes for the Polish people you are worried about.

Frederic, if you really want to thank us, don't think too much, spread your notes, and let everyone remember that there is only so much we can do for Poland. "

"But……"

This time, before Chopin could finish speaking, Arthur stood up with a smile, pressed Chopin's shoulders and pressed him onto the bench.

Just when Chopin was still about to say something, he suddenly found a silver commemorative cup half full of soil in Arthur's hand.

Arthur placed the cup next to the score in front of Chopin and smiled softly at him.

Only a few people will know the significance of this silver commemorative cup to Chopin, but unfortunately, Arthur happens to be one of them.

Yesterday evening, he made a special trip to Chopin's residence in London and learned about the story of this silver cup from Mr. Mickiewicz, the author of "The Englishman" who was also a Polish exile.

This was a souvenir given to Chopin by his teachers and classmates at the Warsaw Conservatory of Music when he left Warsaw to study in Vienna. Hidden at the bottom of the silver cup was a choral score in memory of Chopin by his classmates, and on top of the score was a handful of Plain brown soil.

To others, using a silver cup to hold soil may seem strange, but to Chopin, this handful of soil had a different meaning.

This is a handful of mud from Warsaw, which represents Chopin's longing and passion for the land that haunted him.

Arthur leaned down and whispered in Chopin's ear: "Go, Frederic, let them take a good look at what the number one pianist in Poland is. Be confident, you have the strength and talent, Even if Mr. Mendelssohn is a young talent who has become famous at a young age and is well-known in Europe, I don't think he can beat you on the piano. And coincidentally, Mr. Mendelssohn's view is the same as mine.

Do you remember Mr. Heine who auditioned your performance with me yesterday? Do you know what an arrogant person like Mr. Heine thinks of you? He told me that when you sit down at the piano, he feels as if a fellow countryman from his birthplace is telling him the strangest things that have ever happened in his hometown while he was away. If possible, he would like to ask you: 'Are those roses at home still blooming with enthusiasm? Are those trees still singing so beautifully under the moonlight? ’

Frederic, you are right, you are useless because you can do nothing but music. But at the same time, what you said is all wrong, because no one can do better than you on the piano, because you are Chopin. Since the piano is the only thing you have control over, give it your all. Since then, my blood has not been shed in vain. "

When Arthur said this, his smile became brighter.

He put his hands behind his back and stepped back step by step.

However, when he was about to leave the stage, Chopin suddenly stopped him: "Mr. Hastings."

"Um?"

Arthur stopped and raised his eyebrows with a smile.

Chopin stared at the face that was blurred in the darkness, and his nervous expression finally softened. He finally showed a charming smile that he had not seen for a long time, and his whole body was filled with the same cheerful attitude as in the Vienna Concert Hall in the past.

He picked up the silver cup on the piano stand and asked Arthur, "Can you give me some blood?"

Arthur stared at him for a while, and finally smiled and nodded.

He stretched out two fingers and placed them on top of the silver cup. The drops of blood dripped down, staining the silver cup and the soil red.

Arthur shook his head slightly and smiled: "One drop should be enough. It's not that I'm stingy, but this 'blood' is indeed poisonous."

The fog filled the stage again, and Arthur turned around and disappeared into the smoke screen.

And along with the footsteps, there was also the sweet note that the audience had been waiting for.

There was a gust of wind blowing on the stage, and the paper with the music score was flipped, and only the first piece Chopin played tonight was written on it - "Nocturne in E flat major".

The evening breeze blew in the Astrid Amphitheater. The melodious melody clearly came from the right hand part. The soft playing was indescribably smooth. Everything seemed to be calling the evening breeze of the summer night.

Such soft and elegant music fell into the ears of the audience, as if a pair of gentle arms brushed their cheeks.

Everyone who was still excited from the duel just now fell into reminiscing about the rural summer night, while those Hastings supporters who came for tonight's piano premiere showed even more shock. Emotions.

Arthur, whose masterpiece is "The Bell", has always been famous for his wild performance style in major concerts in London. However, today he composed this piece that is completely opposite to his personal style.

Even Moscheles, the president of the Philharmonic Association who was sitting in the front row of the audience and worried about Arthur's life, seemed a little distracted.

He closed his eyes and savored the taste of the notes, and his frown gradually relaxed: "Pure, quiet, clear but also delicate, forgetting worries, forgetting sadness, forgetting that he is still lying on the small bed in the apartment, is he talking? ? If Mozart is a calm pond, then this is a lake under the moonlight in the evening. Is this really the work of Arthur Hastings? He is such a delicate person? Perhaps, it is my understanding of him not enough."

Mendelssohn, who already knew the truth, was leaning against the passage door, looking at the arm that was leaping over the piano keys in the darkness. Even as outstanding as he was, he couldn't help but smile with some jealousy: "What a misfortune, what a blessing!" Another outstanding figure has appeared in London. If this continues, I have to seriously consider whether to go to Paris for exchange. Maybe I should settle here in the future? Liszt or Chopin, who can better interpret the way of romanticism? Woolen cloth?"

Alexandre Dumas and others who hurried down the steps couldn't help but slow down when they heard the music. When they came to their senses, they found a pipe burning in the corner not far ahead.

Alexandre Dumas looked at Arthur who seemed to be fine in front of him in surprise, and couldn't help but said in surprise: "Arthur, you..."

Arthur let out a puff of smoke and gently shook his fingers at his two friends. He lowered his voice and said with a smile: "This is indeed a genius, isn't he?"

"You're not hurt?"

Arthur just smiled when he heard this. He smoothed his hair and said, "The title of genius pianist will be changed soon. If you are asking this, I am indeed a little hurt."

Disraeli looked around: "What about Mr. Bertrand?"

Arthur took a puff of cigarette: "Mr. Bertrand should have taken the money back to the apartment. It was really hard for him today. But overall, the money was well spent."

"So, you bribed him?" Disraeli slapped his head and said: "Damn it! I should have thought of it earlier. But... Bertrand's price shouldn't be cheap, right? You do so much just for this Poland A backup? What are you planning on doing?"

Arthur did not say this clearly. He just turned around and reminded Disraeli slightly: "Benjamin, you are about to elect a member of Parliament. What issues are you going to come up with to make your voters cheer?"

When Disraeli heard this, his proud head immediately turned around.

He knew that Arthur was talking about aid to Poland.

At this point, he could not only make the Whigs look bad, but also maintain the moral high ground. The appearance of an outstanding Polish pianist is undoubtedly the best way to let the public understand Poland.

Disraeli was delighted, but then he began to worry about Arthur's situation.

He also made a vague mention: "I saw Viscount Palmerston here today. Do you think he knows how to appreciate the piano?"

Arthur just chuckled softly when he heard this. He patted Disraeli on the shoulder: "It doesn't matter that Viscount Palmerston doesn't understand music. Viscount Melbourne and Mrs. Norton just appreciate it. I gave Mrs. Norton two pieces two days ago. Box ticket, I believe she will choose a man who can make her happy."

Alexandre Dumas also understood the slang between the two. The fat French man frowned and asked: "Arthur, are you taking too much risk by doing this? Viscount Melbourne will be unconditional just because he heard a few pleasant songs." Do you support me? Although I admit that Mr. Chopin’s music is indeed not an ordinary ditty, but I don’t think its music can contain the magic power to enchant a greedy politician.”

Arthur shook his head slightly and said: "Alexander, you are right, of course I am not sure."

"Then you still do this kind of thing?"

Arthur wrapped a few circles of bandages on his hands: "Isn't there still His Majesty the King there?"

Disraeli frowned and said: "Will His Majesty the King interfere in the appointment and dismissal of Scotland Yard personnel? Besides, could you predict in advance that he will come today?"

Arthur smiled and shook his head: "Of course I can't, it was just a joke. I can't believe Viscount Palmerston's generosity, nor can I believe Viscount Melbourne's passion for music and Mrs. Norton. The only thing I can believe is Mr. Norton, our Westminster justice of the peace, is nothing more than a coward and a bad temper."

When Alexandre Dumas heard the name Norton, he also remembered some previous rumors: "He is here today too?"

Arthur nodded slightly and said: "I sent a letter to the respected former congressman Mr. Bernie Harrison a few days ago. In the letter, I attached two tickets for tonight and sincerely invited him to bring his good friends. Mr. Norton attended together and witnessed with his own eyes whether his wife had any problems with the Viscount Melbourne. As you all know, Mr. Harrison has always had a good relationship with Scotland Yard, and I believe he will generously accept my proposal. It would be better if he could confidently and understandingly persuade Mr. Norton not to endure this unhappy marriage for the sake of the illusory official position, or even let Mr. Norton sue for divorce."

When Disraeli heard this, he finally understood Arthur's overall plan.

He couldn't help but take a breath, but a smile of appreciation and reverence suddenly appeared on his face: "If Viscount Melbourne gets a lawsuit because of this, I'm afraid it will have an impact on his election! This kind of scandal will be a threat to anyone who is aspiring to be more successful." It will be fatal for any further politician. And you, my dear Arthur, I am afraid that you are the only one who can save him at this time. As long as this deal is made, I am afraid that no matter whether Viscount Palmerston is in Melbourne Nothing the Viscount can say can shake your position in Scotland Yard or even the entire Home Office."

Arthur smiled and said: "By the way, you can also openly attack the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on the Polish issue. Benjamin, we have a win-win situation."

Alexandre Dumas also patted his belly and couldn't help but complain: "It's so fucked. I was worried about you before, but now that I think about it, it's superfluous. But Norton, a bad guy like Norton, can't help but complain. Damn it, who was involved in that murder case? Him or Bernie Harrison?"

Arthur smiled when he heard this: "It depends on how Mr. Harrison's affairs go. For now, I tend to think both of them are suspects."

At this moment, the piano music finally came to an end.

As the aftertaste of the last note disappeared in the theater, applause like a roaring tsunami erupted in the theater.

"A masterpiece!"

"A completely masterful performance, I can't think of anything better."

"Hastings! Hastings!"

As the stage lights came back up, the audience's eyes regained their brightness.

Just when they were about to give the highest courtesy to Arthur and throw the roses in their hands on the stage, they were shocked to find that the Arthur they were looking for was not at the piano, but standing on the steps not far away.

Sitting in the center of the stage playing was a young man wearing a mask and with a lock of brown curly hair on his forehead.

"What...what's going on?"

"Isn't that Mr. Hastings who just played?"

"Why is he wearing the same mask as Mr. Hastings?"

Amid the noisy discussion, Arthur walked up to Chopin, leaned down with a smile on his face and took off the Guy Fawkes mask on Chopin's face.

At this time, Chopin was still immersed in his own musical world. Perhaps because the performance was too emotional, there was still a trace of tears in his eye sockets.

When he came back to his senses, he only saw Arthur standing in front of him. He turned around and saw a group of stunned spectators.

Chopin lowered his head shyly, and said thank you: "Arthur, I am really grateful to you for having such an opportunity!"

Arthur smiled and said: "No, Frederick, I am very grateful to you!"

In the line of sight, Arthur, who had already changed into a tuxedo, turned around. He raised Chopin's left hand high, placed the bandaged hand on his chest, slightly bowed his head and announced to the world in a loud voice.

"Gentlemen and ladies! Take off your hats! Standing in front of you is a true genius. Please allow me to solemnly introduce to you, Poland's most outstanding pianist-Mr. Frederic Chopin!"

Suddenly, the whole audience stood up and applauded thunderously.

When Chopin, who had always been introverted, saw this, his first reaction was to retreat, but in the end, he still stood there firmly.

He took a deep breath, bowed and said: "A song of "To Hastings" is dedicated to everyone. Thank you for your love and enthusiasm."