She sat in her seat as Paris began to become more and more visible. Her long blonde hair was up in a neat bun as she made sure that she looked all right, knowing that she would be meeting the owners of the Opera Populaire at the train station the very second she arrived. She wore a long violet gown, the bodice tied tightly to minimize her already small waist. Although, it was entirely too tight for such a long train ride. Putting her mirror away, she continued to look out the window as Paris grew more and more near, the train's brakes activating with a loud squeal as it slowed to a halt in front of the train station. A stack of letters in white envelopes and a red skull seal on the back rested neatly in her lap, almost completely hidden by her hand that rested on top of them.

She had begun to receive these mysterious letters the year that her parents died. One arrived every week, and this mysterious 'Opera Ghost,' as they had been signed, had requested that she come to Paris once she had reached the age of seventeen to claim the family fortune that awaited her. Now, here she was on a train that had come to a complete stop, with the lights of Paris glowing in the night sky, a smile spread across her face. Gracefully, she stood, smoothing out the skirt of her gown and stepping out into the busy aisle, searching for her escorts that awaited her. A train attendant placed her luggage in her awaiting hands and directed her to the carriage that was waiting for her on the corner of the street. In front of the carriage stood the owners of the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Richard Firmin, and Monsieur Giles Andre. Quickly, she placed the letters into one of her bags and approached them timidly. Monsieur Firmin, she recognized as the taller one, looked up, seeing her as she approached them.

"Mademoiselle Harker," he greeted, walking up to meet her. He removed his gray top had from his graying head and bowed in front of her after she stopped, smiling kindly at him.

"Yes. Call me Colette, if you please, Monsieur Firmin," she replied to the greeting as she curtseyed politely after setting her luggage on the sidewalk. She watched him rise and motion for the coachman to come over and get her luggage and he was followed by Monsieur Andre. Once the coachman walked away with Colette's bags, both of the owners, first Monsieur Firmin, and then Monsieur Andre, politely lifted and kissed Colette's delicate hand, then led her to the carriage, helping her inside before they got in.

"I hope the train ride was suitable for you from your ship from London," Monsieur Andre spoke as he saw her looking out of the carriage's window, admiring Paris's sights.

"It was tolerable, Monsieur Andre," she said in reply, pulling her eyes away from Paris's beautiful lights, looking at the owners with a kind smile. Although on the inside, her body was screaming to be released from the incredibly tight bodice from her gown. "I'm just happy to be here. I've been looking forward to this for years. I cannot wait to begin working for you. I'm really looking forward to it."

"Yes, well, when you wrote us and asked us about an opening as a painter, we didn't have anything open," Monsieur Firmin said, smiling kindly at her. Colette looked at his hands, noticing that they were glistening with sweat as he spoke. It was almost as if he was afraid of something that she had said. "We received a very high recommendation from someone at the Opera House, so of course we had to hire you."

"Well, I thank you for this opportunity, Monsieur. I just hope I can be as much help to you as I possibly can."

Soon, the clomping hooves of the horses that were pulling the carriage was starting to slow and soon came to a stop as the driver gave the command for them to stop. The weight on the back of the carriage was lifted as the coachman appeared and opened the door, offering his hand to Colette to help her out. She took it and stepped out and was soon followed by Andre and Firmin. She looked at the beautiful site of the Opera Populaire, the magnificent columns and the beautiful statues that graced the front stairs to the entrances. She was completely mesmerized with it, her eyes traveling up to the roof. She caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure that looked like it was looking down at her, but it quickly disappeared. Andre and Firmin stood beside her, smiling as she took in the sight of the beautiful gold palace that awaited her and the mysteries and thrills that waited inside.

"Shall we go inside," Andre asked her as he offered his arm to her as the coachman stood behind Firmin, waiting to walk ahead to follow the three while holding Colette's luggage.

"Yes," she said with a kind smile, taking Andre's arm and letting him walk her inside the opera house. As they entered the main hall, two attendants took Andre and Firmin's coats and hats. Again, just like the outside of the Opera Populaire, the walls and columns were painted in gold and the floor was marble. There were many doors and a grand staircase, as well as statues that graced the entire theatre and its patrons as they came in to see the operas. The owners showed Colette to the quarters where the ballerinas and some actresses lived and Andre opened the door to Colette's private quarters. She stepped inside, looking around. The bed was against the wall with midnight blue bed sheets, a window above it, the dark wooden walls thick, however bare. She had a dresser with a mirror and basin and there was a rack where she could hang her clothes. There was another mirror; it was tall and resting against the wall with a dark gold colored frame. She walked up to it, examining the edges. It looked like it had been slipped open from the side a few times. She placed her hand on the rough edges, looking at her reflection.

"How do you like it," Firmin asked, watching her as she examined the mirror. Colette pulled herself away from the mirror, smiling at Andre and Firmin.

"The walls are bare, but I can fix that. I love it otherwise," she replied, turning in a circle as she looked around the room once more. "It's perfect."

"Good," he smiled and the attendant brought her bags in, setting them on her bed. "If you don't mind, we would like you to start painting sets immediately. We're opening a new opera in two weeks and this is what he need." He handed her a list and she took it in her hand, reading over it. It listed a night sky and a city in the daylight and a battle scene. All of these scenes for the opera called 'Hannibal' by Chalumeau. "Do you think you can at least do the night sky tonight," Andre asked her with imploring eyes, as if he was begging her.

"Of course," she smiled, folding the list and setting it on her dresser, taking her hair out of her bun. "If you'll allow me to change, I'll get to work right away."

"Of course, Colette," Firmin said as he and Andre smiled, leaving her alone to her room. Colette looked around her now empty room, trying to think of ways to make it different from all of the others. She changed as she thought about the color of the wood. It was dark, not as the night sky, but it was so dark that no light color would look good against it. She decided to give it some more thought later, leaving her room and shutting the door behind her. She walked down the corridor, passing the ballet mistress's room on her way up to the stage. She placed her hand on the banister, holding her skirt as she walked up the stairs. She immediately found herself to be backstage, staring up at the large canvas that awaited her. She let out a breath and looked at the colors that sat on the floor beside it, kneeling down and taking the palate in her hand. She began mixing the colors onto the palate with her brushes and she began painting the canvas, the dark blue soaking into the fabric and soon, the fabric was coated in the blues and blacks of the night, grey clouds lightly gracing the scene near the top and little stars remaining. The stars, constellations that graced the night, the designs that she so loved and dreamt of in her dreams as she laid in the grass with her lover, gazing up at them and getting lost in her lover's eyes. She placed the palate on the floor, getting up and stretching, hearing a clock chime in the distance, as well as creaks from the rafters above her. She looked up, but saw nothing. It was well into the late hours of the night, three in the morning to be exact. She rubbed her eyes, and then walked away from the canvas, making her way back to her room. All was quiet in the Opera Populaire, which all of the dancers, stage hands and builders in bed for the night and here, the newest addition to the staff, an artist, was just now going down for the night. She quickly and quietly opened the door to her room, closing it after she walked in. The lamp on her wall as lit and burning dimly until she turned the knob, the room becoming brighter. And there, on her dresser, resting against the basin was another white envelope addressed to her, just like the dozens before she came to Paris. Oddly excited, she walked over and picked it up, sitting on her bed and turning it over, breaking the skull seal and taking the letter out, unfolding it and reading it silently. It read:

"Dearest Colette,

You have made it to Paris safely and now, you are under the employ of the morons that run my opera house. I am happy that they gave you a private room and I saw that you noticed the rough edges around the mirror. I'll let you in on a little secret. The mirror is a secret passage way leading down to the catacombs of the opera house and you are NEVER to use it. Now, you must get some sleep because I know that when you get this it will be very late. I have already sent the morons a note to let you sleep for as long as you want. Their newest acquirement must have her energy so the sets are beautiful.

Goodnight, my dear Colette.

Your faithful severant,

O.G."

She smiled softly, folding up the letter, though her mind was racing with questions. Where was he and how did he know where her room was? Better yet, how did she even know if he was a man at all? And yet, she sighed happily as if she had received a letter from her parents or, better yet, the lover that she dreamed of at night. She slipped out of her dress and corset, brushing through her long hair and washed her face, going over to the bed and pulling her sheets back, getting in and covering herself. She held the letter to her chest, smiling still, then closed her eyes and falling asleep, the dream of her, the stars and her lover, coming back to her sweeter than ever before.