The Opera Populaire was bustling with activity as the dancers took the stage to practice. The soft hiss of fabric brushing the air could barely be heard as Mmlle Giry called instructions out to the girls.

"No, Brigitte! You are not an awkward stork, but a graceful young woman! Move more like Marie over there, silly girl."

Brigitte glowered sullenly at Marie who was moving as if she had been born dancing. Her long raven hair was loose for rehearsal and it swung suggestively around her slender body. Chocolate brown eyes focused on her every movement, and closed slowly as she gave herself over to the dancing.

Little gypsy girl, why should she be Meg's favorite?

A sigh escaped from Mmlle Giry's lips. "No, Marie, you must open your eyes. The gentlemen in the audience will want to see your big beautiful eyes while you dance."

Marie nodded once, her eyelids fluttering briefly as her eyes opened. "But, Madamoiselle Giry, I do not need to see to dance, I only need to feel."

"Please concentrate on your dancing. I care not if you know the entire stage with your eyes shut. That is commendable, but the ladies and gentlemen in the audience will want you to have your eyes open, so you will."

Brigitte's teeth grit together tightly. She had never dared to question the ballet manager's wisdom. She always kept her eyes open, her body moving properly. Hatred welled up into her chest for the gypsy girl that everyone favored. Little gypsy trollop, moving so suggestively. She can barely behave herself like a lady on or off the stage, why is she so favored?

The various stage hands were coming onto the stage, moving low to the ground so that and audience would not notice them, carrying buckets of powder. The harsh chemical powders were to be dumped into the gas lighting of the stage to throw of flares of color onto the dancers. Hands pulled back buckets and went to dump as the men working the fans to create winds were idly pushing their great charge back and forth.

White clouds suddenly puffed into the dancers, girls screamed as the chemical powders covered them, getting into noses and mouths. One high pitched scream pierced all the other girl's outraged cries.

Marie sat on the floor of the stage, hands over her face, screaming in pain and horror. Meg ran to her side, pulling her hands away to see what had happened to her favorite ballerina. A gasp of horror escaped her throat as she saw the girl's eyes has been shot full of the powders. Mon Dieu, non. Not her eyes. "Doctor! I need the doctor over here now!"

All the Opera's doctor could do was to wash out the girl's eyes for her to stop the pain. Marie whimpered softly as she frantically looked around her. Where once the rich splendor of the Opera Populaire of Paris had been where only vague gray shapes where the larger parts of stages were. Every once in a while she could make out a smaller gray blur moving where people where.

Marie whimpered softly and looked towards a looming oval-shaped blur. "I…I can not see! What am I to do?"

Mmlle Giry smiled softly. "Well, my girl, you can at least make out shapes. Perhaps you can still dance. That is, if our managers do not cast you out into the street."

At the thought of being cast onto the street, Marie began to weep once more, head on her knees, tears running onto the fine silk of her costume. Meg gently took the young woman by the hand and led her to her dormitory room, still weeping softly.

"Do not fear, my dear. The managers are afraid of treating their dancers and singers too poorly after what happened to them when they first had this place. They still fear our Opera Ghost, even if they do not speak on him. Perhaps I can convince them to allow you to stay. After all, you are our finest dancer."

While Meg and the doctor flitted around the injured dancer, Brigitte smiled softly to herself. Finally, I will be able to shine the way I should with that little gypsy bitch out of my way. What good luck I've had today.