He loved music to distraction. At school he had an enduring affection
for the dull Vassyvkov, who was the laughing stock of the other boys. A
boy would seize Vassyvkov by the ear, crying, "Get out, stupid,
blockhead," but Raisky stood by him, because Vassyvkov, inattentive,
sleepy, idle, who never did his work even for the universally beloved
Russian master, would every afternoon after dinner take his violin, and
as he played, forget the school, the masters and the nose-pullings. His
eyes as they gazed into the distance, apparently seeking something
strange, enticing, and mysterious, became wild and gloomy, and often
filled with tears.

He was no longer Vassyvkov, but another creature. His pupils dilated,
his eyes ceased to blink, becoming clearer and deeper; his glance was
proud and intelligent; his breath came long and deep. Over his face
stole an expression of happiness, of gentleness; his eyes became darker
and seemed to radiate light. In a word he became beautiful.

Raisky began to think the thoughts of Vassyvkov, to see what he saw. His
surroundings vanished, and boys and benches were lost in a mist. More
notes ... and a wide space opened before him. A world in motion arose.
He heard the murmur of running streams, saw ships, men, woods, and
drifting clouds; everywhere was light, motion, and gaiety. He had the
sensation that he himself was growing taller, he caught his breath....

The dream continued just so long as the notes were heard. Suddenly he
heard a noise, he was awakened with a start, Vassyvkov had ceased to
play; the moving, musical waves vanished, and there were only the boys,
benches and tables. Vassyvkov laid aside his violin, and somebody
tweaked his ear. Raisky threw himself in a rage on the offender, struck
him--all the while possessed by the magic notes.