Music of the Barricades
It was opening night at the Paris Opera and a warm summer breeze swept the air as the last few embers of daylight cast their golden hue. The steps of the opera house were crowded with people, queues forming as far as the eye could see. For the first time in months it was the premium destination, a spectacle that anybody who knew anything simply couldn't afford to miss. Monsieurs Andre and Firmin had thrown open the doors wide for the premiere of a new opera, Solstice d'Incendie and the response was unprecedented. The buzz was electric, the roars of the crowd heard for miles around.
"This is it, Andre," Firmin exclaimed excitedly, peering down the sweeping staircase as the doors were opened and the first spectators admitted. "This is what we've been waiting for! The Opera Populaire finally put back on the map!"
Andre was looking around just as eagerly but there was a slight frown creasing his forehead, and he seemed unusually agitated. "Quite, Firmin," he replied, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "But don't forget who's behind all this."
Guests were now ascending the staircase, the gentlemen finely attired and handsome and the ladies' sparkling as their array of wonderful jewels were illuminated by the chandeliers. The two managers were the very epitome of charm as they welcomed the elite of Paris back into their midst.
"I won't let him ruin this," hissed Firmin as he bowed warmly to the Marquis de Rotre and kissed the dainty gloved hands of both of his daughters. "He can't take this away from us!"
"My dear Firmin, he can take anything he likes," murmured Andre. "You and I both know that this whole affair was an act of sheer desperation! Appeasing him is the only way of keeping the opera house alive!"
"My dear Andre, do stop fretting," Firmin shot back, outwardly all smiles and graces. "You've said it yourself. As long as we do everything his way, at least for the time being, there's nothing to be afraid of. He wouldn't have all this if it wasn't for us!"
He gestured to the hoards of people still pouring through the doors. Andre wasn't convinced and turned to his friend in exasperation.
"Us?! What have we done? It's his opera, his direction, his way! We've no control over anything whatsoever!"
"Calm yourself, Andre!" replied Firmin. "We've done exactly as he's asked. Everything is in order. Nothing will go wrong for us tonight."
Andre groaned at his business partner's ominous words. Though both reluctant, the two gentleman had come to the realisation that staging the infamous Phantom's latest work was the only chance they had of saving themselves and the theatre from bankruptcy. So far the Opera Ghost had made no further demands beyond the staging of his new piece. Christine Daae was appearing in the main role, her bewitching voice and enchanting looks one of the forefront reasons for the crowds the grand opening had attracted. The Phantom had once again insisted on her specially and the managers knew it was of paramount importance not to deflect his wishes if there was any chance of the new opera becoming a success. The Phantom was dangerous, and had means of destruction and despair that were utterly unprecedented. Andre himself had seen to it that all of the chandeliers were screwed on doubly tightly that evening.
"Ah, the man of the hour!" exclaimed Firmin, bringing Andre out of his reverie. He shook hands warmly with the Vicomte de Chagny, who bowed respectfully to the elder gentlemen before him. The patron of the theatre, Raoul had contributed a considerable amount of money towards the new opera, his love for Christine prompting him to keep her on the stage.
"My dear Firmin, my dear Andre! So delighted to be here!" Raoul was every bit the gallant gentlemen but there was a wariness about him too that did not go unnoticed. "May I introduce my guest of honour this evening? My good friend, Marius Pontmercy. He and I have known each other many years – since, well…" he trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed. Marius too seemed awkward as he bowed to Monsieurs Andre and Firmin. He was not quite so finely dressed as his peers and behaved as though he felt rather out of place. He allowed himself to be swept away by Raoul, who was chatting animatedly with the managers as they were shown to their seats in box three. It was several years since he had been anywhere so grand as the Paris Opera and it seemed strange and unnatural to be back amongst the upper class. He had encountered Raoul only yesterday when the young Vicomte's carriage had been overturned in the street. They had recognised one another at once and Raoul, completely unabashed by Marius's fall from grace, had insisted he accompany him to the opera that evening. Raoul had heard on the grapevine many years before about Marius severing ties with his wealthy family, but his joy of seeing his childhood friend far outweighed his regard of social status. Marius too was overjoyed to see Raoul again, and as the curtain went up and the orchestra began to play, he tried not to think of the look on Enjolras's face if he could see him now. Andre and Firmin had seated themselves behind the young gentlemen, their faces grim and set. Andre's knuckles had already turned white as he gripped the edge of the box fearfully.
But the opera was a success. The audience was enthralled and all the critics declared it a sensation. It went off without a hitch and the whole of Paris was captivated and entranced. No one, however, was quite so entranced as the two young gentlemen in box three when Miss Christine Daae appeared on stage. Dressed in a spectacular white gown, she seemed to radiate light and beauty. Her voice was that of an angel and it truly was heaven to hear her sing. Raoul could not take his eyes off of her, although this was not an uncommon occurrence. It was well known that he had a deep regard for Miss Daae and had loved her for many years. He often frequented the Opera House in order to see her perform and was well accustomed to hearing her sing.
For Marius, however, it was a new experience entirely. From the moment Christine appeared on stage, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her dainty figure clad in that beautiful dress, Marius was spellbound. It was like nothing he had ever encountered before and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears as she danced across the stage. Even Cosette had never entranced him so, had never made him feel as though his very nerves were on fire. His eyes never left her beautiful face for the entire performance.
It was long after he had left the opera house that the radiance of Miss Christine Daae left his thoughts. He was barely aware of anything as Raoul's carriage set him down several streets away from his lodgings. He had just enough of his senses about him to give a false address. He had not been entirely truthful with the Vicomte and had somewhat played down his current situation in life. It would not do for Raoul to see his bare, meagre room in the dilapidated boarding house. As if in some kind of trance, a whirlwind of dark hair and angels singing, he let himself into the house and climbed to the first floor. He was just turning his key in the lock when he heard a loud rustle in the passage behind him. Startled, Marius hurtled back to reality.
"Who's there?" The landing was dark and he had not thought to light a candle.
"It's me, Eponine," came the reply, and as she moved in front of the window Marius caught a glimpse of his friend in the moonlight. "You're back late. Have you been to see Cosette?"
Entirely missing the bitterness in her voice, Marius was once again occupied with thoughts of Christine. He could not think of Cosette for one second after witnessing a real angel fallen from heaven. Even one more minute spent in that dark hallway talking to Eponine seemed a waste. A waste because he was not alone in his thoughts, thinking about Miss Daae.
"No," he replied shortly. "Goodnight." With that, he shut the door and retired to bed. Eponine stayed on the landing long after he had disappeared from view, and she could hear his peaceful snores emanating from the next room. He had not been to see Cosette. She couldn't remember a time when she had asked that question and Marius had not replied in the affirmative. He had seemed distracted, as though he had something else entirely on his mind. Could it be that he was bored of Cosette? That he no longer went to the gardens to watch her every day? Had something happened that meant he no longer had feelings for her? Her heart lighter and full of hope, Eponine stole quietly downstairs and went to her own bed, dreaming of Marius and hoping against hope that there was now a vacancy in his heart that she one day might fill.