Adele has not expected her grief to be deep. Gustave's affection had been comforting and their relationship was as much borne more out of convenience and physical needs than anything remotely romantic.
Had she loved him? Yes. But not as she had loved Louis – through all the storms of their courtship, marriage, miscarriages and the ultimate bonding as parents to Meg. So many tries, so many losses – then the blessing of a daughter. When he died, she believed her life would now be relegated to raising her daughter – finding whatever work she could to support both of them. In that, she did well.
When Gustave appeared on the doorstep with his own daughter, Christine, she felt compelled to help them. After all, he and Louis had bonded over their music, the girls were close in age and, quite frankly, she was lonely for male companionship.
The simplicity of a man's needs calmed her soul, giving her a respite from the complexity of her daughter's adolescence. The seeming endless rebellion over every single element of her life from a lock of hair that would not stay pinned, to her inability to perform a jete quite as she wished. There was nothing simple about Meg – the world was indeed her stage.
Christine was quite the opposite – calm and gentle. Quiet – almost excessively so, but a blessing for all that. She adored her father, but, even at her young age seemed to understand and, actually approve of his relationship with Adele.
Gustave was kind and generous of spirit. Their lovemaking while not full of passion, was satisfying. Each recalled their spouses in brief snippets of conversation. Meals were not an issue – both he and Christine had learned over the years during their travels that most food was tolerable and both were pleased their combined incomes, the larder was usually full and no one was in want of a treat from time to time.
His music soothed all their souls – some of their best evenings were spent with Gustave playing, Christine singing in her lovely, but quiet soprano, and Meg dancing. For Adele, this was better than any performance at the Palais Garnier.
His illness took them all by surprise – when the fever broke, they were all relieved, but he never quite recovered. The months it took him to pass were difficult for all of them. There were times when Adele was concerned for Christine's own life, her fear of loss and feelings of hopelessness leading to days when she refused to leave Gustave's side, shunning both food and sleep.
"You must rest yourself, child," she would say. "You will do him no good if you become ill yourself."
Her own health concerned her as well – working every day, then coming home to treat Gustave. Neither of the girls was comfortable with the cool baths he required to keep him comfortable. The remembrance of Louis' illness was always with her – reminding her to get her own rest, to make certain she ate and kept her own hygiene practices.
His death was a quiet thing- for Gustave, the man, was a quiet person.
Christine was inconsolable and Adele found that Meg's fierce personality was the perfect antidote for the older girl's depression – Meg would simply not allow Christine to wallow. She could grieve – cry, beat her pillow, walk for hours – but she could not allow her own spirit to die, not if Meg had anything to do with it.
And so, Adele was left to deal with Gustave's death on her own. Despite the relief from her nursing responsibilities –she found she could not rest. If anything, she was more fatigued than when tending to his needs. The quiet was the worst part – the nights of waking to listen, going back to sleep when his chest moved and a ragged breath escaped his parched lips. Now she woke without any reward.
There were no tears – she felt she had cried all her tears when Louis died.
No one thought it odd. She was Madame Giry, after all. Madame Giry did not cry.
It would be a beggar on the street – a stranger to her – who would push her to the edge of her resignation and calm.
The act of tossing a coin in his basket had him pull a harmonica from his pocket to play Frere Jacques.
The simple man, with his simple instrument playing the simple tune broke her.
Tossing several more francs into his basket, she sat on the sidewalk next to him and cried as he continued to play.