"I think there will be several million people a year to add to what today is already a moderately successful tourist city," Gergiev says. "We don't yet compete with Paris or Rome, but we certainly compete with Paris and Rome with our cultural offerings."

He knows St. Petersburg's infrastructure, long neglected by the Soviets, is frayed, and that the choice of quality hotels is somewhat limited, but he finds an energy here, a sense of possibility. That's what keeps him based in St. Petersburg, even though he could earn more money by moving permanently to the Western capitals where his work is in constant demand.

"When you walk here, you immediately feel there was a strong will by Peter the Great and Catherine the Great to build a miraculous city, and one can say it was fulfilled," Gergiev says of the unique metropolis founded on a series of bogs and marshes in the far north some three centuries ago. "It's not one building, it's an ensemble, and they found harmony. You feel the power and the mystery of art behind it. It makes the city a huge attraction. I see so many people in the boats on the canals these days, and everyone is like a child. It makes you happy like a child, which is a fantastic thing that should not be excluded from your life. The city amazes you."

VALERY GERGIEV, 52, is a powerful-looking man who keeps his salt-and-pepper beard at stubble length. His concentration when he is conducting is legendary, but offstage, he looks fatigued and harassed, often rubbing his eyes. The phone calls and demands on his time are continual, and he seems happiest when performing. In fact, he absentmindedly waves his baton while talking on the phone, perhaps wishing he could control the conversation as easily as he controls his orchestra. His office at the Mariinsky is cozy and old-fashioned - there is no computer on the ornate, hand-carved wooden desk. He wears unfussy, almost sloppy, clothes, but the beautiful Breguet watch on his left wrist hints at his status, as does the long fur coat he sometimes wears during the fierce, seemingly interminable Russian winter.