Before he could even think about the future, though, he knew that he needed a rest. The years of intensive work, compounded by a constant uneasiness about his little boy’s delicate health, had exhausted him. He decided to spend a few weeks in the beautiful Tatra Mountains. There he could think things out—and start adding up figures. What would a few months in Vienna cost? How much did Leschetizky usually charge per lesson? What was the quickest way to raise the money? The last question was a tricky one, since there was no quick way to raise money. It would have to be done piecemeal.
In the village of Zakopane where he stayed, there lived an old doctor who was an expert on the folk music of the region. Paderewski tramped happily through the hills with his new friend, jotting down notes as fast as the good old man could whistle them. One day the doctor said, “Guess who arrived in the village to open up her summer home? Helen Modjeska! Would you like to meet her?”
Paderewski gasped. “Modjeska? Here? Certainly I’d like to meet her!” Who wouldn’t? How many times he had cheered himself hoarse over a Modjeska performance in Hamlet or Othello! Poles all over the world loved Modjeska, not only because she was a great actress, but also because she was dedicated heart and soul to the cause of a free Poland. Since she was one of the most famous actresses in the world, she had done as much as anyone alive to remind the world that there was such a place as Poland.
Modjeska and her husband were delighted with the handsome young musician, and when he played the piano for her the actress was enchanted. “You will have a great career!” she predicted. “You will do great honor to your country. But you must start at once!”
Paderewski smiled. Non-musicians simply did not understand these things! “You are kind, Madame! But I am not ready to start. Not until I have studied much more. And that is not easy to do.”
“Studying costs money.” She frowned. “I understand that.”
He nodded. “I’ll raise it somehow. Maybe if I give a few hundred concerts! Next month I’m giving a little recital in Cracow. It might even fill about one quarter of a hall—if the hall is small enough.”
The actress’s beautiful dark eyes flashed. “Nonsense! The hall will be filled! Sold out! There will not be an empty seat!”
“Thank you, Madame.” Paderewski laughed delightedly. “You are very flattering, but I’m afraid the people of Cracow won’t quite turn out en masse to hear me.”
“Perhaps not. Not yet—but they might just turn out to hear me. We shall make it a double bill. Paderewski plays, Modjeska recites! What do you say?”