Under the Shadow of an Angel.
Chapter One
Anna
During the time before the great fires; Before the time that Christine Daae was a household name, there was many a forgotten dancer. In these times of course many girls were competitive, if a girl was too weak or not as fierce as the others they would simply become invisible to the personalities that were the dancers of the Paris Opera house. You can suspect that many a potential star went under the eye of a wealthy investor or a observant tutor, and that often was the case. For girls in the Opera house's learnt to always try and out do each other, many fought tooth and claw for a wealthy benefactor to come their way and shower them with luxuries. There was a hidden relationship in many of the Opera houses that were left to disappear in history and that was the role of such wealthy men and that in fact even Ms Christine Daae herself was too subject to it, But she was lucky, as she fell quickly into the eyes of a man who could support her, and that man was the very same Viscount Raoul De Chagny, and of course in many a story there was another, a genius. The so called Phantom of the Opera.
But this story begins even before the arrival of the dear Viscount, before The Phantom was a public villain. In fact, this story isn't really about Christine, she is simply a figure among it, as one can guess by association of time and place and even person that she would be.
This story centers around one of such 'Forgotten' dancers and her unlikely relationship with the fabled Phantom of the Opera.
In childhood a girl is brought to the Opera House, either was she is orphaned and sent there to do whatever work they may find, or because their family have connections and wish for them to be a dancer, or some form of stage help.
Usually, the latter is very unlikely; in my case, I was Orphaned, not only was I from a paupers family which nobody really remembers, I had the ill luck to lose my parents as an infant. I was found on the steps of the opera house in a modest basket, barely a blanket covering me and surely if I hadn't been found in those very minutes I probably would've died from cold..
Madame Giry was a very cold woman, the only kindness she showed was that rare glimpse of love to her daughter, Meg or that slight favoritism she holds to Christine, a "Second daughter" to her.
I was raised with the other girls, strictly told how to move and how to act and never to disobey, and this was all well but one can imagine the torment a child would go through in that environment, to be told exactly how to act and how to do a certain thing in a precisely certain way. It was hard. It was uniformed and everyone had to be perfect.
One thing they do not tell you in the books, or the stories is the debt the dancer owes to the opera house. Some cases, they are orphaned with families of considerable to some kind of wealth, it is paid in what they inherit, or some girls are sent there and therefore their boarding and feed and training, is all paid for from the first day. I was in debt. I was essentially owned by the Opera House, one of their dances and not a human, simply property, a prop.
I wasn't the most talented dancer either, nor was I the most pretty. Which you can add together as not going very well. The other girls were graceful swans and I was the duck hopping along in the background for most of my younger years, not comparing even slightly to the born talents that was Meg Giry or the others such as Elise D'Voluer.
But I tried hard, for it was all I could do. Practice, Practice. Hope and pray and then practice again.
As I reached my maturity, the age in which I would begin to dance in bigger productions alongside other mature dancers, this age is at 17. The younger girls play the more minor roles up until then, if they are selected good enough for it. Which I never was.
Years of being pushed aside, to be over so quickly at the age of 17, or so I thought.
That year would be the year our current manager retired, and the year things began to change; or more, everyone became aware of a certain presence.
"NO." Madame Giry slammed her cane to the solid flooring so hard I thought she would've cracked it in two, her scolding face was twisted into a disapproving scowl, her lips so tightened her face showed every wrinkle clearly. Her age was perhaps even exaggerated by at least another 10 years as she scowled profusely towards the grouping. "Lift!" She gestured a lift and made us perform the same move at least three more times.
It was exhausting but she dismissed us when she was finally satisfied, leaving the girls to either go out to sneak some extra snacking (Which Madame Giry disapproved of) or to gossip.
I usually went to the small library in the living section of the Opera House and read for a while before I was called to do some mundane task for the diva herself, Carlotta.
I was on my way when I noticed the enviously slender figure of Christine gracefully racing down a hall, her little head scanning her surroundings rather quickly as she bopped towards the main stage. My instincts told me not to follow her, perhaps I shouldn't have, but my curiosity had overcame me and I found my feet walking fast behind her, following her pace to see what she was doing. The main stage was usually prohibited, things were to be done, rehearsals, staging, it was risky to go on the stage. Someone could see and you could be reported.
But there she went, Past hall and into the back of the stage. I followed quietly as I could, allowing her to reach the thick curtains which acted as a barricade and on to the main stage itself.
I felt almost worried as I walked towards the curtain. My hands traced the thick material, my light movements probably not disrupting the heavy material. The silence was daunting at first until I heard it, a soft murmur of a song. Her voice was frail at first, light and wispy. You could say she wasn't talented, perhaps average at best and yet she tried. Through a small sliver in the thick curtains I saw her standing, her small frame tiny among the stage, her figure somewhat shrinking in comparison to the vast rows of red velvet chairs, her voice trembling with what I could describe as fear, perhaps nervous.
Her voice was weak, tiny even in comparison to the vast stage of the Opera house and yet her voice seemed to belong. I was captivated at how frail she seemed by the weakness in her voice, so soft in what it portrayed. I wouldn't have known, but I wasn't the only one captivated by her. Of course, she was beautiful.
Her skin resembled a fine pale silk, although I must admit my skin was paler, although that wasn't a good thing, It meant I often looked sickly in comparison to the other girls, and many times Madame Giry said it was because I was left out in the cold far too long when I was a baby.
Her hair was a deep, lustful brown which curled naturally in almost perfect ringlets, her eyes a sharp blue that pierced a mans soul, even one as cold as the Phantom was entranced.
Her lips were a striking red for a natural color so deep you would think some type of rouge was used; but it was completely natural and it contrasted perfectly against her pale skin. She sung so softly, and even after she finished she remained on the stage, watching out as if imagining a crowd was watching, unknown to her there was, me, and the dark eyes of the Phantom himself.
This was the moment I first became aware of his presence, as once Christine left, I waited for a few moments before I dared make my entrance on the stage. My eyes widened at how the view changed from at that point. My mouth opened slightly in awe. How wonderful it must be to be the leading lady.
As I walked forward into the burning light of the stage, I felt almost watched.
The feeling of being watched lingered, like a pair of eyes was pinning to me, watching me. Examining me from the inside out. I didn't know then, but this was also the first time he became aware of me.
"So big." I couldn't help but whisper, as if saying anything louder would disrupt the majesty of it all. I found myself going down towards the conductors area, the sheet music was already laid out, the notes showing a beautiful melody which played almost instantly in my head as I read the notes. "Beautiful." I couldn't help humming the tune. As I stood on the stage, I couldn't help but imagine the dancers performing to the song, its sad notes driving them in slow movements. I took the chances to dance, although I wasn't as skilled as Meg.
Over my years I found a comfortable place in being more than adequate, and yet with the soft tones of the song I hummed I was entranced. Twirling gently around the stage, breaking out from humming to long complimenting notes of the tune. "Da...Da da daaaa!" I almost gasped as my voice reached such a high note of the melody, but I continued to twirl, even smiling at my sillyness as I gracefully swept along the stage, humming and singing along to the written melody. I must've became so lost in it as I heard the song, but not with my voice, but as if by magic the song came alive in my head. Gracefully leading me to the center of the stage and encouraging my movements. It was truly beautiful, and yet so sad, as the song continued I realized it wasn't the same song, in fact it was completely different.
I felt as if I was in a dream, as I twirled the song grew more urgent, willing me to go faster in my movements until it reached its climax and drew to a deathly silence. I stood, alone.
I couldn't talk at first, I hadn't an idea what came over me, and yet in my chest I felt a pang. "Is someone there? Hello?!" I knew it couldn't have been a dream, it was far too real. I still stood in the very same place and yet it was so silent.
It was as if nothing had happened.
"Hello?" I stepped forward and found the familiar tingle of being watched again. My eyes searched to find the source of such a beautiful melody and yet I found nothing. "It was so beautiful." I couldn't help but place my hand over my chest and sigh. For it was, such heartbreaking notes, softly played and expressing what I could only describe as utter sadness and yet longing.
I remained on the stage for a few more moments, silently waiting, hoping, but nothing came, still the silence prevailed and I was alone. Or, almost. I would've stayed, searched some more for the source of it if the loud shrieking of Carlotta herself hadn't tore me away from whatever dream like serenity that had become of me. Luckily, It was me she was after and as her eyes found mine she smiled. Yes, the dragon herself smiled at me with her overly rouged lips twisting rather disgustedly. "Here is the little madame herself."
Her overly pronounced Italian accent stretched the words to the point you'd think she'd run out of breath on every one, her eyes were so squinted with what I could only describe as an over-dramatic show of annoyance or rage, that you'd think she had gone half blind. "Where have you been, I have called for the past Ten minutes!" Her voice was filled with shrills, you wouldn't think a woman with such a powerful singing voice would have the speaking voice of a cat on helium, and yet there she stood before me.
"I'm sorry, I uh-...I..." I found myself stuttering to the point where I couldn't pronounce even one word of a pitiful excuse. She just rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers as a signal for me to follow.
I followed behind her, her heavy skirts trailed so I had to be mindful to keep my distance, one girl stepped on a small area of her fine red dress and Carlotta practically brought the place down with an hysterical fit. It cost the manager two more dresses, both grander than the one she complained about, to appease her. Carlotta was the star of this Opera House, many people came miles to hear her legendary voice and the Opera house didn't dare upset her. She was the main breadwinner and she knew it.
And so, the rest of the dancers - The managers, suffered because of it.
"I want you to clean my suite, It is a disgrace, how could you have let it get into such a mess?" Carlotta was busy preening herself in a passing reflection as she trotted to her quarters. It was a lavish room, perhaps four times the size of the dressing rooms for the dancers, dressed in the finest velvet and silks available, all to appease her.
As we walked through the entrance, which was two solid mahogany doors, ornately decorated with flowers and vines, I saw greeted with the familiar yapping of the dog. Her precious baby.
She cradled the creature to her bosom and cooed to it as if it were human. I was left to clean the dog's mess...And I wasn't talking about the animal either.
Carlotta was a dirty woman, not in a sense of bathing or appearance, but in her life her room was always a mess, she didn't care to clean it herself, she thought if beneath her. I was left with the job.
Luckily she didn't disturb me whilst I cleaned, it was silly; a dancer in training to be used as a maid, but everyone overlooked it. I was simply property to be used around the Opera House, I might as well be of some use to somebody whilst I was there. Madame Giry believed I wouldn't be one of the finer dancers, I never attempted singing like the other girls; I didn't know where I would be.
So there I was, cleaning Carlotta's quarters.
Luckily; It didn't take me too long to sort everything out. It never did, I knew how to move quickly has Madame Giry would probably be calling for us all to get back to training sooner or later.. I was right.
As when I ran back to the training room Madame Giry's lips were once again drawn back into a rather unpleasant grimace. "You're Late." She put a certain stress on the pronunciation of "Late", I was the only girl who had disgraced herself by being late this time.
No protection.
"I...Carlotta requested my assistance." I tried to buy some kind of excuse but she didn't accept it. "You are a dancer, not a maid. Remember your place." She slammed her cane against the wood flooring and I found my position with the other girls; Meg and Elise rolling their eyes at me as if I had done something an idiot would do. Meg forgets the time she was forced to give up her own necklace as Carlotta expressed her liking to it. Or Elise's humiliating situation in front of a wealthy patron, Carlotta felt upstaged and quickly spread a malicious rumor which is still sticking to her to this day.
But I was simply Anna. I had no superiority among these girls and so I was free to be ridiculed by all. Even Christine cast me a look which suggested something of pity, but that would be too kind. Something closer would be that of distaste.
Practice went quickly as it always did, I found myself standing by myself whilst Meg tried to squeeze some affection from her mother and Christine managed to get endless compliments beside her.
I continued to practice through their conversations, although Meg scowling disrupted me at one point. Just in time to see Madame Giry send her a look I would hate to be the recipient of.
Some time passed before I decided to retreat into the quiet of the Library, nobody used it as far as I was aware. In fact, I was often the only person to sit inside there. Some of the books had been untouched for so long that dust had settled.
I found my comfort among the shelves in that room; It was quiet and peaceful and I was lost in the tales which awaited me. I chose "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" by Victor Hugo. I became almost entranced by the story but also saddened.
I sat for much of my spare time as little as it was, in the library on my own, it took quite a long time to read the pages, given my spare time was limited to barely a few minutes of a day. It took me at least two months to be able to finish it.
I sometimes found myself feeling as if I wasn't alone, on occasion feeling that familiar prickling feeling; as if somebody was watching me. It was foolish, as I was completely alone in the room as I always was.
One particular day, I was practicing in the hall when I made a silly error on one of my steps. Madame Giry was in a bad mood and unforgiving on this occasion, going as far as to compare my grace as equal to that of a "Heavy footed drunkard." Although you would think she was done, she added the further humiliation of completely removing me from the practicing altogether, in fact, she ordered me out of the room entirely until it was over.
Once the other girls began to leave, a few cast me sad looks - understanding as they too had been the victim of Madame Giry's anger. But Elise, she smiled like a sly fox and taunted me with her nonchalant eyes. "Perhaps a pig would be more suitable." Elise smiled and took the extra care in throwing in a perfect example of the move I messed up whilst taunting me, laughing as my eyes rimmed with uncontrollable tears.
Meg, I noticed, stood back and watched. Even laughing as she saw my reaction. "You've made the little pig cry." She spoke in mock sympathy, giving a shake of her beautiful blonde curls, she was beautiful. Christine appeared, her brown hair tied back with a ribbon, her eyes were wide at the sight of me. "Look, Christine, wouldn't you agree that the girl resembles a little pig." Elise took a certain enjoyment in my torment, But Christine seemed in a daze as she watched me.
Her eyes, usually so direct, were lost as she scanned the hall, looking for something. For someone. She lingered for a while, as if making sure what ever she was looking for wasn't there. Even Elise noticed and spoke once again in a more urgent tone; "Christine?"
"What..Oh." She found me at least, her eyes squinting as she watched me. "I do not know." She spoke in a quiet voice until Elise frowned. She watched Meg and Elise for a moment, even glancing behind her before she spoke. "I suppose she does." She sounded almost hesitant before replying, following after Meg quietly after. She looked even paler if that was possible.
On my own in the silence I found myself choking back a sob. It was rare when I got upset in such a state, but when it happened I found myself completely unable to hide it.
I ran, as quickly as I could to the dim lighted library and fell back against the shelves where I usually sat. My chest shook with tears, sobbing uncontrollably. I was alone, no real friends among the dancers and the victim of a taunting Elise and Meg - Even Christine usually joined in for the fun of it all, she was so kind to everyone else and yet with me something was different.
I covered my face with my hands, trying to stop the tears from coming and yet they didn't stop, almost mercilessly they clouded my vision and choked my breathing.
I remained that way for a while until the page of a familiar book was in the corner of my eye.
As I looked, I noticed the book I had been reading for the past few weeks; The Hunchback of Notre dame, lay beside me - Opened exactly on the page I had left it.
I swore I had put it back on the shelf and yet there it was before me.
It was when I became aware of that familiar prickling feeling on the back of my neck.
Fighting my sniffling, I tried to speak; "Is someone there? Monsieur?" My voice was weak from the sobbing, shaking slightly with the emotion left behind.
"You're not alone, Anna." Whispered a voice, so close I could practically feel the breath on my throat. I gasped and looked either side. Nobody was there.
"Where are you?" I began to stand, and yet the voice remained, but it was moving. Almost as if it was in front of me. "I'm always there." The voice was distinctly male, intoxicating and deep. I found myself simply blushing at the sound of his voice, so dark and throaty It clouded my mind and made my knee's feel weak. All of this reaction for a simple voice, it sounded exotic, with the hint of an accent. I was entranced.
"Why can't I see you, Monsieur?." I placed my hand against the bookcase, I knew he was close, I felt his presence in every fiber of my being and yet I couldn't see him. I could feel him and yet not touch him. It was disorienting. "Some things are best not seen." His voice purred, so close I swore he was standing beside me. "Are you here to torment me like the others?." I traced the wooden frame of the bookcase, searching for a release, something behind it.
I found nothing.
I imagined this was some grand scheme by Elise, I could already envision them laughing at me already.
"The others?" The voice purred again and I felt a quiver down my spine. "The dancers, Elise, Meg and Christine. This is a part of their joke isn't it, to make me seem mad - They always say I'm crazy, always say I don't belong." I began sinking to the floor again, my hand remaining on the frame of the bookcase. It was as if the voice went down with me. It remained so close to me and yet so very distant."Maybe I am mad, maybe this is it."
"You're not mad." He purred against me and I shivered again. "Are you cold?" he inquired lightly, I couldn't believe he noticed me shivering. His voice was almost like that you would speak to a child. Nurturing.
"No, it isn't that." and regardless of my reply I felt instantly warmer. I didn't know how he done it, But the fireplace on the other side of the room sprung to life with a flame. I gasped as the flame burned beautifully and filled the room with the warm tones of firelight.
"You need a friend." He asked, not as a question but simply a fact. He sounded almost sympathetic beside me, but not. "You are alone." He murmured softly and I once again believed he was right beside me.
I couldn't help but close my eyes, absorb his beautiful voice. "This is truly a dream."
"Maybe it is not." that familiar voice cooed at me and I shivered again. "Do I scare you?"
"No." I sighed and found myself almost nuzzling myself into the bookcase, I imagined it was the source of the voice, perhaps I was right. My eyes still teared, I couldn't fight back all of the emotions. They ran freely in here.
"You still weep." He acknowledged softly and I found myself sniffling. "I'm sorry, I'm just so tired, upset, I don't know if I can control this any longer, Madame Giry, it is as if she hates me. Everything I do is never good enough, I try so hard and yet I
The voice began to coo softly, bidding me to relax. The fire too began to die down, almost on demand the light softened and the room went to a comfortable dim darkness.
"Let your worries sink away, let your mind drift into darkness and calm.." His voice began to softly sing and all I remember was doing as he told me, drifting into the darkness.
When I awoke, I was with the other girls in the sleeping quarters of the dancers. I stared towards the ceiling with a gasp, it was morning. I had no idea how I had got there. As I moved I felt something fall onto my leg.
A single Red rose. It was tied delicately in a bow of black ribbon, it was beautiful. The rose was perfect; if you could imagine a perfect rose. This would be it.
Some of the other girls were already awake, but only really began to notice me as I sat with the rose.
"Who gave you that." Elise came over, staring at the flower with scrutiny, she was trying to find fault. But it was beautiful in its simplicity.
"I don't know." I mumbled a little and Meg shortly joined. "Already keeping the company of men Anna?" It was a bitter remark but behind her facade she was rather envious. It was rare for a girl of our standing to have time to see men. Never mind get flowers off them. "I wouldn't think you'd be worthy of such a beautiful rose."
Christine was tying her hair with a red ribbon when she glanced over, her eyes finding the red rose and her lips parting as she gasped. "Where did you get that?" Her voice was almost accusing, her eyes squinting at me as she stared from me to the rose in my hand. "I woke up with it beside me."
Christine stood up, her skin once again a shade paler. She began staring suspiciously at the walls. "Why did you get it?" She came over once most of the other girls left for practice. She took her place beside me and I felt almost captured as her eyes sunk into my own. "What do you know of him?"
"Of who?" I felt uncomfortable as she took my hands in her own and began to move closer. "The Angel."
"The Angel?" I stared at her for a moment until she scowled. "The beautiful voice, My angel. He comes to me every night."
I instantly knew who she meant with those words; The voice.
"I don't know, it wasn't an angel...I don't know anything about him, I've only heard him once." I bit down on my lip, I felt silly, admitting my madness.
She stared at me for a long time, her eyes squinting until she dropped my hands. She was annoyed. She was jealous.
"I see...Perhaps." She stared down at the rose again, even placing the ribbon between her fingers and touching the fine material. She paused for a moment, staring at the ribbon "Do you feel as if he is always watching?" She mumbled as if he could hear her now.
"No." I watched as she blushed. "Maybe it is different for you, he seems to be always there for me." She watched my reaction, I could hardly hide the pang I felt. "Perhaps it is a different person after all; he only ever speaks to me, and he is my angel." She stood with a slight smile, her eyes remained cold though.
"I think so." I smiled and Christine turned her back and left. Leaving me to get ready for practice and arrive five minutes late.
Madame Giry's eyes found mine, I awaited for a punishment, a cold remark. But there was none.
Her eyes were cold, her lips tightly sealed, she simply gestured to a place for me to go and told me to "Try to be on time" in the future.
The practicing went better than yesterday, no cold remarks or insults. I could totally focus on my dancing. Dancing wasn't my passion, although I didn't know what was. I enjoyed reading but I didn't think of it as my passion either. I enjoyed music.
Music, it was truly beautiful, something about it made me lose myself, perhaps it was as I was raised here, my childhood so closely linked with music that it simply became a part of who I was?
After practice, as the girls left I noticed something odd; Christine wasn't there. Meg paused to look for her, but even she looked rather confused.
I noticed this for a few more weeks; She was attending, but only the occasional lesson. Madame Giry didn't even notice her absences.
Over the next month I didn't hear from the mysterious voice again. I wondered if it was connected, Christine's frequent truancy and no more presence or hint of the mysterious voice. No more did I feel that strange tingle on the back of my neck either.
I would have thought it was all a dream if Christine didn't occasionally glance in my direction; her face filled with an anxiety. She looked at me in question, almost asking me if I had heard from him at all, pleading to see if it was the case. I didn't know how to reply and so I often just turned away - She would then continue on with Meg or Elise and I would go back to my usual practicing, or helping Carlotta.
During one evening I walked around the opera house, it was almost silent, until I heard the hushed mumbling of Christine from the quarters which we all stayed. As I approached I heard her singing.
She had improved vastly, in fact, you would believe her voice to be that of another girl. She sounded a bit wobbly still, but she was better. At first she remained quiet, I believed she had simply finished singing until I heard the rich familiar voice of the mysterious man. He was giving her instruction, and as she followed I heard most of the wobbling disappear from her voice. He was teaching her how to sing. Her Angel.
I began to think it would be best that I leave until I heard my name. "Do you speak to Anna, Angel of Music?" She was asking about me.
I froze, remaining there until his rich voice replied in a gentle whisper. I felt a shiver again. "She needs an Angel also." He spoke so softly, I even heard Christine sigh at how lovely his voice was. "I thought it was just me." She sounded disappointed but he replied regardless. "There are many lonely souls, Christine." The way he said her name, I can't say I wasn't jealous his voice was like a soft velvet to the ears, but the way he pronounced Christine was with such a passionate tone I could blush. His voice, so throaty and as he spoke to her it was in a different way to how he spoke to me on that evening. I was envious.
"I understand, Angel." Christine muttered and then It grew silent, their conversation ending. I took the chance to hide as she approached, the sound of her walking towards me a warning. I left it a few minutes before I dared enter the room myself.
Silence.
I touched the walls near my bed, they felt solid. I was once again completely unsure how he managed to do what he did. Everything was as it should be, and yet he appeared everywhere.
More time passed before I heard the voice again; I was sitting in the Library again in midday when he came to me again, softly murmuring my name.
"Anna.." He said, his voice causing me to shiver. He must've seen as the fire once again roared from slumber to a vibrant life.
"I thought you were simply a dream." I mumbled and I heard what sounded like a laugh. His laugh was divine.
"I am not a dream, Anna." He sounded almost amused at my remark. "What is your name, Monsieur?" I placed my hand against the bookcase once again, smiling to myself as he spoke. His voice was enchanting.
"I do not have a name." He sighed, his voice once again sounding as if it were so very close, as if he sat beside me. "Surely you have a name, everyone has a name."
He paused before replying, almost as if he doubted telling me. "Erik."
"Erik." as I spoke I couldn't help but smile more. His ever seeing eyes noticed; "You smile as you say the name?"
"It is nice to know more about this voice, the man behind it." I began to press against the bookcase, no pressure was released. There really wasn't anything behind it, or so I thought.
"Perhaps there isn't a man." His voice began to move around the room, dancing around me. Taunting, almost.
"I think there is." I began to stand and the voice seemed to follow me.
"And if there was?" His voice made me shiver again, it was so rich and deep I found myself easily swooning over it. My knee's in fact felt weaker just by the sound. I wondered if Christine felt that way.
"I would quite like to meet him." I looked around the room once again, my eyes trailing each detail for some sign. There was none.
"Things are not always as they seem." His voice caressed my ears deliberately, his voice masterfully taking advantage and causing me to feel dizzy. It was as if he knew my weakness to his voice, perhaps he did.
"Will I ever be able to see you Monsieur?" I felt surrounded as his voice seemed to radiate from all areas of the room. "Not whilst you are blind."
"I don't understand." His words, his voice. It was overwhelming, but he was cryptic. Nothing revealed and yet everything. I didn't know how to respond, how to react. What to understand and how to communicate with him.
"Erik?" A silence remained as I asked. He was gone. The prickling feeling had died down and the fire too flickered with not so much enthusiasm. He had left.
I began noticing little things, Madame Giry let me off with being late, and If I made an error she would show me how to correct it rather than bite harshly at me. Carlotta began calling on me less, as each time she did something unfortunate would happen. She now associated me with some kind of bad luck.
Unfortunate things had continued to happen, even after she found a new little 'maid', Unfortunate things simply increased.
These things were brought to the surface with the sudden retirement of our manager, and the arrival of our new managers;
Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre.