Johann would never have guessed he’d miss Frederic. If there was a way the other violinist could sabotage him as stand-mate, he’d found it. From altering his bowing technique so it created a certain disharmony coming from Johann’s direction to refusing to find a rhythm with regard to turning the pages, there had been an annoyance every few minutes.
But Frederic’s behavior didn’t compare to the hatred the other musicians directed at Johann after Frederic’s death. It was a true French coldness, a frosty politeness that pushed Johann away more effectively than harsh words could have. He straightened his shoulders and sat with his back to the rest of the violins, although he could still hear whispers behind him.
Even worse, Maestro Fouré frowned in his direction frequently. When the conducto
