"Come on, Annie, we are going to be late!" I hurriedly fastened my shoes as Adelaide rushed back into the dormitories.
"Well I would not be so hurried, Adele, if you had the courtesy to not hide my shoes on me!" I indignantly replied as she stood in the doorway. She tapped her foot impatiently as she heard the laughter of the other ballet rats as they prepared for an evening outing. A new Gypsy caravan had stopped on the outskirts of the city, and the only reason I could assume we were even attending such a disgraceful attraction was to witness the complex dancing techniques of some of the performers.
"You have lost your sense of fun, Annie, you take everything way too seriously. You are as uptight as Monsieur Perrot, it is little wonder then that you are his star pupil."
I had to laugh at that statement. "I think you owe me an apology for such an unfair comparison." My shoelace was tied, and I bounded out the door in front of Adele, clomping my way down the stairs and we hopped the last available seats in the carriage.
The night was dismal, despite it being mid spring. A thick fog seemed to have enveloped the streets, and a mist swirled around us as we made our way to the outskirts of the city. It was still a fairly early hour, though many candles had been blown out for the night, and only the lights from the bars and brothels were still burning brightly, eager for any patronage. The road became bumpier and in the distance a faint bonfire could be seen. There were other carriages belonging to the opera house, and the rest of the corps was awaiting our arrival.
The sound of the music was eerily haunting, and as we passed through the canvas entrance of the tent, I couldn't help but shiver at the spectacle surrounding us. A rather robust man with long, coarse black hair and wide, peering brown eyes led us through the showcases. "I am Javert, and I will lead you through this magical world of wonder. Everyone here will amaze you, but should you become frightened my little dears, stay close by me." A sinister smile crossed his features, and I noticed Monsieur Perrot delivered him a scathing glare. Adele and I exchanged worried glances and chose to stay behind the rest of the crowd.
Gravel crunched underfoot as we plodded through the myriad of displays, both entertaining and moderately disturbing. There was a grossly obese woman with scraggly blonde facial hair, and she laughed heartily at the contorted faces of the younger ballerinas as they gasped in disgust. We then passed through to the exhibit that showcased a beautiful young Gypsy dancer engaging in maneuvers that would break our bones if we even attempted such contorting positions. Monsieur Perrot marveled at her skill as the girl bent backwards, balanced herself on her arms and positioned her legs in a split position in the air. Although the ballet rats were enthralled by the display, they inwardly groaned at the prospect of the ballet master having them attempt these same stunts.
"And now for the most spectacular attraction of all, "Javert exclaimed. "Our own little Don Juan, come, come and see the Devil's Child!" He pulled back the flap and we entered a small room with a cage and a little boy inside. My heart sank at the image of him sitting there, a burlap sack over his head, and playing with a roughly sewn toy monkey. He raised his head in my direction, and through the small slits cut in the fabric, he looked at me through pained blue eyes. As I reached my hand outwards toward him, Javert entered the cell and pushing him to the ground, he proceeded to beat the defenseless boy with a stick. Paralyzed with fear, the boy made no attempt to stop the dirty Gypsy from removing his hood. Adele jumped upon viewing the boy's face and hid her face in my shoulder.
"Annie, how can you even stand the sight of him, he doesn't even have a face!" But I couldn't peel my eyes away from the scene before me. It was cruel to expose a deformed child to such public humiliation and gain money from their misfortune. The boy's matted hair hung in dark clumps around his face, but Javert pulled it away to reveal the half of his face that appeared as though it were eaten by an infection. His right eye was sunken in, and layers of interconnecting tissue were visibly present. The boy broke away from his owner's grasp, yanked the sack back on his head, and sat dejectedly against the side of his prison. Some of our entourage threw coins and as we exited, I am unsure why, maybe in an effort to show him that someone cared, I glanced back at him once more. I knew what was going to happen as I saw the boy crawl over the length of rope attached to the bars of the cage. Javert was unaware of what fate was to shortly befall him as he greedily counted the coins that were strewn across the ground. I gaped in horror as I watched the length of the rope coil around the fleshy neck of the greedy captor and pull tightly. He dropped the coins and flailed helplessly as his eyes bulged out until at last he lay still. The boy rose to his feet, grabbing his cymbal playing monkey, and wordlessly, I opened the door to his cell. We managed to escape the gendarmes before they bombarded the place, and by way of the overgrown fields, made our way back to the opera house. Though he gripped my hand the entire journey back, we didn't say a word to each until we were walled within the safe confines of the opera house.
I opened the gated window to the chapel to allow him entrance, and so as not to get caught together, I entered through a separate opening. When I joined with him again, I saw him sitting reverently, holding his beloved monkey, in front of a mosaic of the Holy Mother. He pointed to the lapis lazuli image of her and asked, "Who made this?"
I was surprised at the graceful sound of his voice. It was enticing, almost melodic, and I knew he couldn't be much older than thirteen. He wore tattered rags with strips of cloth posing as shoes, and his head was still covered by the burlap sack. I felt sorry for this poor creature, subjected to the worst of humanity.
"Are you familiar with the teachings of Catholicism? She is the Virgin Mary, mother of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," I replied quietly. "You are in the chapel of the Garnier Opera house, so I would assume that either one of his workers made it, or perhaps it was donated by a wealthy philanthropist."
"It is a truly stunning piece of art, something that I have not seen in a long time," he replied sadly.
"How did you become ensnared with Javert and everyone in the carnival?"
"When I was nine, I ran away from home because I was tired of the ill treatment and neglect I received from my mother. When I went in search of food, the Gypsies captured me, and I have been held captive in their encampment for a long time."
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Around twelve, I think."
"Do you have a name?"
"Erik."
"I am Antoinette."
Erik
"I have just killed a man!" I thought to myself as I cast my gaze down to the bloated corpse at my feet. He would no longer kidnap and torture poor innocent children, for which I was glad, but as I heard the shouts of approaching police, I quickly darted for the exit from the cage. To my surprise, the same sorrow young girl that seemed to actually have pity for me was standing there holding the door open for me, and I only had the chance to grab my raggedy monkey before she yanked me violently from the prison. She pulled open the striped canvas flap and ushered me through, nervously looking back every few seconds. My legs ached from their sudden unexpected exercise and it was difficult to keep up with her long and fast strides. I could see that we were very close to a city which I assumed was Paris, and we hurriedly made our way through the thick shrubbery that provided us some cover. I never asked where we were going, but somehow I knew that I would be safe with this beautiful innocent girl.
The ground texture changed to cobbled streets, and I was very tired by the time we made it to a looming yet opulent structure. She pulled open a gated window and told me to wait inside, that she would be in momentarily. I still had the sack over my eyes and was unable to see much of anything, especially since it was almost completely dark, though I could make out a graceful decoupage that was illuminated by watery reflective waves. I tentatively approached it and traced my dirty fingertips over the cool smooth surface. I had always wanted to build such fine buildings filled with elegance and grandeur, and I thought a church or concert hall might be the best place to combine my architectural and musical talents.
It was then that the girl reappeared behind me. I inquired as to who made the mosaic which, which seemed to startle her, but she said she didn't know for sure, and told me that I was in the chapel of the Paris Opera House.
"Are you familiar with the teachings of Catholicism?" she asked, but I remained quiet. I supposed that deep in my heart I believed in God and with the Christian religion, but I could not understand why He would create such sadness, despair and cruelty for His children. I was but an innocent boy, shunned from birth, guilty of that sinless crime of being ugly.
The girl sat patiently as I told her briefly of how I had run away from home and been captured by the Gypsies and forced to perform in their horrid spectacle. She listened empathetically and for the first time in three years, I actually experienced sincere emotion from another human being.
"Do you have a name?" she asked finally.
"Erik," I said simply.
"I am Antoinette."
"So Antoinette is the name of this wonderful angel who rescued me?" I said. I smiled shyly, and it was the first happy emotion that I felt since before I had left my home. I couldn't quite tell in the darkness, but I think she blushed, and I wish it were light enough so that I could see her full pale cheeks turn pink with color.
"I must get you back upstairs to your new room," she said after an awkward second of silence.
"Room? You mean I am not staying here?"
"No, you are more likely to be seen down here, we have mass tomorrow morning. There is a hallway that has been rarely used since they've reduced the number of principal singers, and though the rooms are dusty I am sure, they will have better comforts than the floor of a chapel," she explained.
Antoinette led me up the narrow stone staircase and pointed in the directions of where various places of importance were located. "Straight ahead is how you would get to the stage, to the left is the staircase that leads to the upper floors, and to the right is the direction of the managers' offices." She took the left hallway, and then made another sharp right which took us to yet another long corridor, although it appeared pretty neglected. The wallpaper was stripping in some parts above cracked pieces of wainscoting and only a few of the sconces were lit. She produced a tiny brass key from her pocket, and glancing around quickly, she unlocked the door and opened it. I was now grateful that I had a sack over my head because Antoinette immediately started coughing as a rush of dust and stale air swept out of the room.
"Will you be able to withstand it in here, Erik?" she asked. I reminded her that I had lived with animals and slept not ten feet away from a pit of raw sewage, and she apologized.
"I'm terribly sorry, I sometimes forget myself."
There was no longer a bed in the room, but she left a few times and came back with some blankets, and even some bread and water. "I'm sorry I can't do better right now, but everyone will think something suspicious if I don't' return to the dormitory right away. I will come see you tomorrow, Erik, but remember to stay hidden. There is a meddling young stagehand named Joseph Buquet, and I don't want you to get into any trouble with him." She wished me goodnight, and closed the door gently behind her. She had brought a few other necessities like candles and matches, but as I looked through the discarded vanity, I found an old used bar of soap that was still fairly good, a washbasin, and an old handkerchief which I could use in the meantime as a scrubbing cloth. I was still dirty and sure that I must smell, so I quickly ate and used some of the water and soap to do a preliminary body washing. It was good to be clean at last, but I knew that it would take a while for me to get rid of the dirt and grime was left behind, not to mention I was sorely in need of a hair cut.
I took one of Antoinette's blankets and bunched it up to lay my head on, and I spread the other one on top of me to keep me warm. I had slept with the monkey in my arms every night since I had finished creating her from old torn potato sacks, and tonight would be no different, except that we finally felt safe.