Marguerite played with the hem of her costume.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach; feeling self-conscious.
Meg, a friend of Marguerite's, entered the room in dismay.
She had been searching for the young brunette for ages.
"Come, Marguerite! You look beautiful."
Marguerite sighed and followed behind Meg as she raced down the spiraled stairs of the Opéra Populaire.
"Where were you two?" Christine, another friend of Marguerite's, asked.
"Sorry!" Meg exclaimed.
The three girls quickly set themselves at the barre, avoiding the striking gaze of their ballet mistress, Madame Giry.
"Rehearsals, as you can see, are underway for a new production of Chalumeau's 'Hannibal,'" Monsieur Lefèvre, the owner of the Opéra Populaire, announced as he walked onto the stage.
Walking behind him were two well-dressed, rich-looking gentlemen.
"Monsieur Lefèvre, I am rehearsing," the agitated Maestro, Monsieur Reyer, said.
Ignoring the Maestro's pleas, Lefèvre continued to speak: "Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry... ladies and gentlemen, please, if I could have your attention?"
The "Hannibal" cast, including Marguerite, turned their heads to their manager's direction.
"As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opéra Populaire..."
He turned to the two men behind him.
"Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles André!"
Polite applause filled the theatre.
"I'm sure you have read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business."
"Scrap metal, actually," André corrected.
"And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny," Firmin announced, followed by more applause.
A man, of at least twenty years of age, approached the men.
He, too, dressed in fine clothes and, to Marguerite, he looked like an angel.
She stared at him in wonder. His piercing blue eyes left her entranced.
How she wished she could speak to him.
"He's so handsome," Meg whispered.
Marguerite blushed heavily, her eyes falling to the ground.
She was only nineteen: young and impressionable.
She had not yet experienced "love," but the pounding of her heart told her otherwise.
"My parents and I are honored to support all the arts... especially the world-renowned Opéra Populaire," the Vicomte said.
Carlotta, the Italian "star" of practically every Opéra Populaire performance, waltzed to the men in her outrageous, over-the-top costume.
"Gentlemen, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons."
The Vicomte took her hand as she curtsied. Carlotta flashed a wide, terrifying grin; which sent chills down the Vicomte's spine.
Piangi, Carlotta's lover, appeared from behind the woman's dress.
"Signor Ubaldo Piangi," Lefévre said as he motioned to the man; his large, fake red beard presentable.
"An honor, Signor. I believe I'm keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your great triumph. My apologies," the Vicomte said with a bow.
"Thank you, Monsieur!"
And as he left through the back doors, the Vicomte passed by the three girls.
Marguerite's eyes followed him, but he never looked their way. She felt disappointed, grasping Meg's arm.
"What is it?"
Marguerite shook her head, feeling foolish.
A man like that would never see her, not when she was the way she was.
Madame Giry suddenly interrupted the girls' and clapped vigorously, so they would begin their ballet piece.
Marguerite let go of her blonde friend's arm and leapt onto the stage.
The bangles of her costume shook from side to side as she pirouetted, using the chains bound to her wrists to appease her character.
"We take particular pride in the excellence of our ballet," Madame Giry said to Firmin and André.
She led them through the girls to the other side of the stage.
"I see why."
"Especially that little blonde angel." André used his cane to point at Meg.
Madame Giry smiled; clasping her hands together and putting them at her waist.
"My daughter, Meg Giry."
"And that exceptional beauty? No relation, I trust?" Firmin questioned as Christine passed by him.
"Christine Daaé. Promising talent, Monsieur Firmin. Very promising."
Marguerite elegantly fell backwards into the arms of a male dancer who lifted her into the air; catching the attention of the men.
"And, what of her?"
André and Firmin gazed at the young ballerina.
"Marguerite Vigneau."
"Vigneau? No relation to the famous composer?"
"His eldest daughter; orphaned at thirteen when she came to live and train in the ballet dormitories."
Madame Giry suddenly slowed her pace.
"She's a beautiful dancer, Monsieur, but I'm afraid she cannot sing."
Firmin and André looked at each other with puzzled expressions.
"What could you mean by that, Madame?"
"She's disabled: a mute, Monsieurs."
André's eyes widened.
"A mute, you say?" Firmin asked.
"Yes. She was born that way."
"Well, that is certainly a pity. She's no doubt gorgeous and a talented dancer, but I imagine that if she could sing, we'd have crowds lining up to see her!" Firmin exclaimed.
Madame Giry looked at the ground; a solemn expression taking over her face.
She stayed silent for some time, until the men began to draw closer to the dancers.
"Gentlemen, if you would kindly stand to one side."
Marguerite felt her feet begin to tire as the chorus came to a halt; the screaming of Carlotta shortly following behind the music.
"She's at it again: complaining," Christine said as Marguerite approached her and Meg.
"She'll run the new managers out before the day is through," Meg whispered.
Marguerite watched as Firmin and André struggled to please the infamous La Carlotta.
"Monsieur Reyer, isn't there a rather marvelous aria for 'Elissa' in 'Act Three' of 'Hannibal?' Perhaps the Signora..." André led on.
"No! Because I have not my costume for 'Act Three' because somebody not finish it!" she screamed in broken English.
"Signora, as a personal favor, would you oblige us with a private rendition?" Firmin asked. "Unless, of course, Monsieur Reyer objects."
Carlotta laughed; wiping tears from under her eyes.
"If my managers command. Monsieur Reyer?"
"If my diva commands," he replied.
"Yes, I do."
Marguerite sighed as Carlotta sprinted to the front of the stage; screaming at those around her to be quiet.
The managers gathered around the 'Prima Donna' and silently waited for her to begin.
"Think of me. Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye."
Marguerite listened to the high-strung sound of Carlotta's voice, watching as the manager's faces contorted from delight to disgust.
"...When you find, that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free."
Screams suddenly filled the theatre as a backdrop came loose and fell on Carlotta. She tumbled to the floor and began hysterically shouting.
"Oh my God, Signora!"
"He's here. The Phantom of the Opéra!" Meg exclaimed and held Marguerite's hands.
Marguerite looked up into the rafters, but saw no one there.
"Lift it up!" People shouted as they struggled to lift the material from the distressed actress' body.
"Signora, are you all right? Buquet! For God's sake, man! What's going on up there?" Lefèvre called out.
Joseph Buquet, the perverted chief stagehand, panickly ran to the rafts.
"Please, Monsieur, don't look at me. As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post," the man swore as he retrieved the backdrop from it's ropes.
Marguerite looked around frantically, until her eyes met that of Madame Giry's.
The ballet mistress looked at her with an uneasy expression.
"Please, Monsieur! There's no one there! Or if there is, well then, it must be a ghost." It was as if venom spewed from his lips as he cackled and devilishly grinned.
Carlotta stood to her feet; outraged and afraid.
"Signora, these things do happen." André tried to relax her.
"For the past three years, these things do happen! And did you stop them from happening?" She pointed at Lefèvre. "No!"
Firmin and André feared for their lives as Carlotta turned to them.
"And you two, you are as bad as him! 'These things do happen!' Until you stop these things from happening, this thing does not happen!" she screamed then ran offstage.
Piangi approached the managers.
"Amateurs!" he said before storming off.
Lefèvre sighed and put his hands in his pockets.
"Gentlemen, good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Australia."
He followed behind Piangi and left the Opéra Populaire for good.
"Signora Giudicelli, she will be coming back, won't she?" André asked.
"You think so, Monsieur?" Madame Giry rhetorically questioned. "I have a message from the Opéra ghost."
She held an opened letter in her hand.
"Oh, God in Heaven! You're all obsessed!" Firmin shouted.
"He welcomes you to his opera house," she read.
"His Opéra house?"
Firmin couldn't believe his ears.
"And commands that you continue to leave 'box five' empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due."
André and Firmin stared at each other in awe.
"Salary?"
Madame Giry shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, Monsieur Lefévre used to give him twenty thousand francs a month."
"Twenty thousand francs?" Firmin snatched the parchment from Giry's hand.
He read the ink for clarification.
"Perhaps you can afford more; with the Vicomte as your patron?"
"Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the Vicomte was to join us for the gala," Firmin said in a disappointed tone. "Obviously, we shall now have to cancel, as it appears we have lost our star!" he shouted and ripped the letter into pieces.
Maestro Reyer groaned at the words.
"But surely there must be an understudy!" exclaimed André.
"Understudy? There is no understudy for La Carlotta!" Reyer wiped away the sweat dribbling from his forehead.
"A full house, André! We shall have to refund a full house!" Firmin cried.
"Christine Daaé could sing it sir," Madame Giry suddenly announced.
Marguerite gazed at Christine with broad eyes.
"What, a chorus girl? Don't be silly."
"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher." Giry brought Christine closer to the men; wrapping her hands around her shoulders.
"Who?" André questioned.
"Monsieur Gerad Lily. He is top of his class in Versailles."
"Let her sing for you, Monsieur."
Firmin and André looked at each other in agreement.
"All right. Come on, don't be shy."
Christine looked back at Marguerite and Meg, whom edged her on.
"From the beginning of the aria, then. Please, Mademoiselle."
"Think of me. Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye."
Marguerite gracefully shut her eyes and listened to the melodic sound of Christine's voice.
How she loved it when she would sing.
"Remember me. Once in a while, please promise me you'll try."
The managers nodded their heads and smiled in delight.
"I think she's done it, Marguerite! She'll have the lead!" Meg whispered.
Marguerite's lips curled into a smile.
She didn't feel jealous; in fact, she was overjoyed. Her friend was in the spotlight.
Unbeknownst to Marguerite, it's only because he allowed it.