10th Movement
[Salieri is pleasantly surprised at the reappearance of the Christmas tree, and even moreso at the fact that there seem to be apology gifts under it for him and his family. There are two in particular addressed to him. Even though he's still feeling somewhat cautious after the events of Christmas, his curiosity eventually overwhelms him and he opens them both.
As it turns out, these gifts would probably have been better left unopened. One is empty save for a small card with the words 'Don Giovanni' written on it in fancy script. The other contains what appear to be sheet after sheet of musical notation, painstakingly handwritten and tied together with a ribbon.
There is a moment's pause from the stunned composer as the memories he traded for his piano come flooding back. Memories of the only five performances of Mozart's latest masterpiece in Vienna. Memories Salieri could have gone the rest of his time in Mayfield without remembering. Coupled with Mozart's originals - his perfect, flawless, uncorrected originals - it's all a bit too much for him.
A painful cry of anguish and rage resounds throughout the house as Salieri hurls the papers to the floor. By the time anyone comes to check on him, he'll be tossing the pages one by one into the still-roaring fireplace.]
[Afterward, once he's composed himself, he heads for the phones. His voice is very deliberately even in tone, so it's clear he's irritated about something.]
"...Good day, Mayfield. I would like to make it known that all work on my opera has been suspended until further notice. I shall notify all interested parties when I see fit to resume."
As it turns out, these gifts would probably have been better left unopened. One is empty save for a small card with the words 'Don Giovanni' written on it in fancy script. The other contains what appear to be sheet after sheet of musical notation, painstakingly handwritten and tied together with a ribbon.
There is a moment's pause from the stunned composer as the memories he traded for his piano come flooding back. Memories of the only five performances of Mozart's latest masterpiece in Vienna. Memories Salieri could have gone the rest of his time in Mayfield without remembering. Coupled with Mozart's originals - his perfect, flawless, uncorrected originals - it's all a bit too much for him.
A painful cry of anguish and rage resounds throughout the house as Salieri hurls the papers to the floor. By the time anyone comes to check on him, he'll be tossing the pages one by one into the still-roaring fireplace.]
[Afterward, once he's composed himself, he heads for the phones. His voice is very deliberately even in tone, so it's clear he's irritated about something.]
"...Good day, Mayfield. I would like to make it known that all work on my opera has been suspended until further notice. I shall notify all interested parties when I see fit to resume."