Mask:
Noun- a covering for all or part of the face, worn to conceal one's identity.
Verb- to put on a mask; disguise oneself
I was a woman of illusion. Of smoke and mirrors. Of masquerades and sleights-of-hand.
My reputation preceded me and my mystery kept my legend alive, for such is human nature. We crave to know what we may not, and once it is revealed to us, we forget and carry on.
My talents gave me recognition, but their curiosity gave me remembrance.
I wore a mask at all times, except when I was performing, and even then, the heavy stage makeup masked my features almost equally.
I had reasons other than drawing intrigue from onlookers for hiding my face, of course. Ones which I preferred not to share, but as the carriage slowed to a halt in front of the esteemed Opera Populaire, I placed a mask on my face and checked in a hand-mirror that it was situated correctly. It was a gold mask with rich red filigree that was the exact inverse of my red dress with gold embroidery. My long raven hair tumbled down to the middle of my back in lazy ringlets, holding almost blue and purple hues in various places as the light struck it. I grinned, my red painted lips pulling up to reveal my straight, white teeth. It was a genuine smile, one of few. I finally had a chance here. A chance to start over. No more running, no more fear, no more hiding. I was determined to make Paris my home, whatever it took.
I stepped out of the carriage and onto the bustling street around me, garnering curious glances from onlookers and passersby as I walked up the stairs and into the famed opera house.
Immediately upon entering, I seemed to cause a stir among the ballet girls, who were rehearsing on the stage.
A woman, who presumed was Madame Giry, as she was the one I was instructed to seek out upon my arrival, and was told enough about to recognize, mainly by her stern, matronly expression as well as her cane and long black dress, banged her cane onto the wooden floor of the stage, silencing the fluttering chatter of the girls.
"Mademoiselle Magdalene, I presume? " she questioned, stepping towards me.
"Sì- I mean, oui," I blushed under my mask, how could I have been so stupid as to answer in Italian? This was France, for God's sake. "And you are Madame Giry, yes?"
The older woman nodded. "Yes, I am. I'll show you to the Messieurs' office. Come with me." With that, she turned swiftly on her heel and walked quickly towards the back of the opera house, and as I went to follow her, I could have sworn I saw the shadow of a man watching from the fifth box.
"Ah, Firmin, it appears that our lovely guest has arrived. Mademoiselle Magdalene, it is a pleasure to meet you, at last," He replied, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles, something I had come to learn was not an uncommon gesture in some countries.
"Oh non, Monsieur, I'm sure the pleasure is entirely mine. You have a lovely opera house, I do so look forward to performing in it," I replied, smiling politely. The managers seemed to thrive on flattery, I noted, tucking that little tidbit of information away for later use.
"And we look forward to hearing you Mademoiselle," He countered. "And as I understand it, you do more than just sing, I have heard you have several notable talents. Would you be so kind as to enlighten us as to the nature of these skills?"
I blushed, something I had learned to make myself do at some point over the years, giving the impression of bashfulness. "Certainly, Messieurs. As you know, I am a mezzo-soprano, but can sing either alto or soprano. Also,I am quite an exquisite dancer, if it is not too bold to say, I play the violin, piano, and harp, and I am a writer of music," I explained to the Messieurs, who seemed to get more excited with each word that tumbled from my lips.
"Perhaps you could sing something for us? Possibly something you have written?" He asked, and I felt quite obliged to comply. I nodded, and took a deep breath before beginning.
" Nascondere solo nel buio ,
tremante di paura della luce
La luce del sole è freddo come mi colpisce , Insensibile e inquietante come la morte
Aspetto che la luce del sole per uccidere me , Per trovare me prima che io possa correre
Ma io sprofondo di nuovo nell'ombra , e attendere che il buio a venire
La lune est mon gardien et ami , Elle me garde du soleil involontaire
La lune est mon gardien et ami , Elle me garde du soleil involontaire
J'appartiens à l'obscurité Il prétend ma vie comme sa propre
Nunca caminará en la luz del día , Se mezclan con los hijos de sol
Mi vida , aunque me temo que está vacío , Tráeme más placer que dolor
Nire iluntasunean me ezkutatuko dira betiko, Babesten ninduen hiltzaile eguzkia
Bakarrik joatea bezala itzalak I,
Ezagutzen dut etxean nago
Sé que estoy en casa
Je sais que je suis à la maison
So di essere a casa"
My eyes, though the Messieurs could not see them through my mask, had been closed throughout the entire piece. The song flowed from the deepest part of my soul and tore itself from my throat in my voice in its strange accent of many lands. I felt more than just the eyes and ears of the Messieurs and the Madame focused on me. It felt like there was someone else. Watching. Listening.
Finally, Monsieur Firmin spoke, ending the silence. My eyes fluttered open as he did so, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Mademoiselle, that was indeed quite lovely! Monsieur André and myself would be honored to have you perform in our production of Chalemeau's Hannibal, however, we haven't any roles left. If you should like to, we can include you in the chorus and as understudy to Carlotta, though I must warn you she may not exactly be pleased," He said and I beamed.
"Oh, thank you Messieurs! Thank you very much! I should love to be part of the production, even if I am only in the chorus!" I exclaimed, grinning madly.
The Messieurs seemed very pleased with my answer but something about her expression told me that Madame Giry was less than thrilled about the situation.
"Madame Giry, could you please take our new cast member to the costuming manager to be measured for her costume, then bring her back to the stage to begin learning the choreography," He told her.
She nodded curtly once before stalking away, giving me no choice but to trail behind her like a lost pup.