In the end a cellist joined the troupe, and the foolish trio of young hopefuls started out in the direction of the nearest resort hotel. “How different from today,” Paderewski said later, as he reminisced about his boyhood adventures. “Such a thing could probably not happen in these years of rapid communication, with parents in constant touch with pampered children. Although still youths, we were to a great extent ‘on our own,’ as you put it, and parental advice was not close at hand. We were completely out of touch with our families. So it was easy for us to keep this great adventure a secret. I knew well enough that my father, had he known, would have no faith in it, nor could he give me any money for such an undertaking.” Whenever the artists reached a new town their first problem was to locate a piano and to persuade the owner to contribute the use of it to the evening’s concert. The second problem was to get the piano moved to the hall where the concert was to be played. This was easier, the boys soon found, in a town which housed a military garrison. The good-natured soldiers were always willing to carry the piano in exchange for a glass of vodka. Since every soldier had a different theory about the proper way to move a piano, the entire garrison ended up as an escort. The sight of thirty or forty soldiers surging through the street after a piano, and all arguing at once, was good free advertising. No one in town could long remain unaware of the fact that a concert was to be played that night. The first few concerts were quite successful and the three artists moved on, by train, by bus, or on foot, further and further to the north. But as summer faded and the temperature began to drop, the cellist gave notice. “I’m going back to Warsaw,” he said, “and if you have any sense, you’ll come too.” “Nothing doing!” violinist Ignace replied. “It’s on to St. Petersburg for us!” “Well, I’m not as adventurous as you are. Goodbye!” Thus the trio became a duo. As the boys turned north and crossed into Russia, they suddenly found themselves in mid-winter. They lined their thin clothing with newspaper and pressed on. They were forced to admit that their brief summer success was over. Soon they were penniless and hungry. Ignace-the-violinist gave in first and wrote home for money. Finally Ignace-the-pianist had to break his resolution and do the same. The fathers of both boys sent money immediately and told the lads to be on the next train home. The violinist was delighted to follow orders. The pianist was more stubborn. “If only I could get to Petersburg. If only I could play one successful concert there!” he thought. “It’s just as easy to get home from there as it is from here. Easier in fact. Just one more chance! It’s all I ask. Father wouldn’t really mind!”