Before Helena you hated the piano. Every last Friday of the month you had to be there on the dot at seven in the afternoon with your hair neat, your flowing dress and your shoes well polished, at the musical gatherings. The piano was a tradition in the family. Your grandmother successfully executed Brahms in a theater in the capital, when he was not yet known in the province. This was accounted for by the playbill, an elegantly printed rectangular piece of glossy paper that adorned one of the walls of the music room.