MANAGING LESSONS
CHAPTER II: ON THE SUBJECT OF OPERA GHOSTS
The pain was indescribable, it was far too unbearable for the masked man and this crushed his normally composed demeanor, giving up his muse, his only reason to live was hard for him, it was difficult to let her go with the Viscount. But to see her happy, he wanted that, to see her smile, laugh and sing to a man that was not him, so long as her fair face was graced with a smile, it was nearly enough. It was nearly enough.
But now, what was he to do? The Opera Populaire has now burned to the ground, so he cannot stay there, where was he to go? He was considering suicide with the help of his Punjab lasso but before the noose even laced itself round his neck, he heard the excited chatter of people. He frowned, striding towards a secret chamber that led to the outside of the opera-house, he peeked outside and saw a s crowd. Straining his ears to listen, he caught what the crowd was speaking of.
"...quite strange is it not?...happened right after..."
"... right after the…"
"... bad luck ...open…..new opera-house?"
"...new manager….quite foolish…"
The Phantom cannot help but smirk, a new opera-house? Perhaps he can live a little longer, especially since he can use that opera-house as an outlet for his broken heart and his anger. He would not mind terrorising the corps de ballet members nor would he regret ruining the opera rehearsals, he might even learn to go back to being himself. He could only hope that Christine would join the company, such theatres would need the talent.
Gathering what he could (his sheet music and writing instruments to name a few) he left the Opera Populaire for to find a new distraction from all thoughts of Christine or the broken heart that haunts him to no end.
ooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOoo
The sounds of outraged male patrons and scandalised male opera-goers was deafening to the ears of the dark haired manager, but she learned to address to them all with a professional air, despite being born of a peasant background, she was never one to be barbaric. She preferred a peaceful life over one filled with yelling and screaming.
"Monsieurs, please collect yourselves." she began as she eyed the audience outside the opera-house, there were even journalists there to write down her very words, she was hoping she would not have her words twisted by those boys, "I ask you as to why you find me to be wrong for being hired as the manager of the Palais de Musique? Am I not given the rights to having an occupation such as you? Or are you furious due to seeing a woman in a state of power? I wish to know if you despise knowing that sometimes remarkable things are given to people who never even knew if they deserve such gifts." Esme paused and looked each man in the eye.
"I would like you to think of your daughters, wives, sisters, granddaughters, think of them, would you condemn them to a life of mediocrity just because you think you are better than them? Would you wish them to die, undiscovered and unknown? I am not learned, I will confess, but the arts have changed my life, in opera, I have learned to read and write, in the arts, I have learned everything I never did. I may be a former gamine but I am willing to learn more, to change, but I am quite disgusted to learn that YOU, the men of power, the ones who are the heads of families, you are fearful of change. And for what reason? You are afraid of seeing women better than you." she cast a condescending glance to the male patrons who were sneering and scowling at her, she exhaled and shook her head as she checked her pocketwatch, " Now please excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to." and with that, Esme turned swiftly on her heel and walked indoors, her head held high with pride, ignoring the chatters and whispers of the men and journalists.
ooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOoo
"Like yellow parchment was his skin
Antoinette, the four-and-twenty year old, blonde Prima Ballerina of the Palais de Musique whispered as she stood on her toes, towering over the frightened, younger ballerinas.
A large black hole served as his nose that never grew
She tapped her Greek nose with her slender index finger, a smile on her porcelain face, one of the girls pulled a face at the description.
One of the male ballet dancers, a danseur named Clement Backus, smirked and crept slowly behind Antoinette, a noose from one of the stagehands present in his hand, he took the Prima Ballerina by the waist and spun her around and turned to the younger girls, whispering in a dangerously low tone,
"You must be always on your guard…
For he will catch you with his magical lasso!"
He laced the noose around the blonde's neck who in turn gave out a frightened shriek, causing the others to scream and run away, Antoinette began laughing along with her fellow dancer, the brunet chuckled and took off the noose from the long neck of the Ballerina. The stagehands laughed loudly, shaking their heads and clutching their stomachs, they were only silenced by the danseur's cold gaze, the older stagehands took no notice and went away before anything happens.
"That was wonderful Clement!" Antoinette exclaimed, kissing the brunet's nose who could only smile stupidly as he watched the blonde walk away with the lightest of steps. What he did not notice was the manager of the opera-house standing behind him, a disapproving glare at the back of the two dancers.
The stagehands however saw the manager and immediately ran backstage, not bothering to warn the young man of six-and-twenty of the woman's presence.
"Those who speak of lies and jokes
Find too late that whisp'ring these were un...wise…"
Clement frowned and turned about to see the manager, her frown was deep and her lips were pursed in distaste, she approached him and yanked the noose from his hands.
"Monsieur Clement hold your tongue!
He then received a ringing slap across his face, he looked at her with shock but was met by stern grey eyes.
The stagehands who were now hiding behind the backstage curtains could only snicker at the danseur's shamed face.
For you'll regret it 'til...you die."
Esme crossed her arms across her chest, shook her head, "I advise you to keep your silly rumours to yourself, the Palais de Musique does not tolerate such amateur behaviour, the same goes with the lot of you AND the corps de ballet." Esme gazed at everyone in the room, irritation etched on her tawny face.
Clement watched as Esme turned around and began walking away from them, her heeled boots clicking on the ground, it was clear that something was troubling their manager's mind. But before Clement could even ask her about that, their acting director, stage manager and ballet instructors approached her along with a young woman with thick glasses who was holding a violin in her hands. They were whispering something.
ooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOoo
"Mademoiselle Baudin, we need to have rehearsals for tomorrow, we cannot allow Il Muto to be a mediocre performance..what with our...management." whispered the acting director, Madame Carmilla Rossetti, Esme nodded.
"But of course, it will be our first and we must make the crowd pleased. It is bad enough that their manager and directors are women, we cannot allow them to think that we cannot handle an opera." Esme said with a bit of exasperation in her tone, "Thank god that our founder was the kindest man in existence."
The stage manager nodded while the acting director chuckled, it was then that the manager noticed the raven-haired girl behind the ballet instructors, fidgeting nervously.
"Mademoiselle de Maupassant, Monsieur Jondrette, who stands behind you?" she inquired, her grey eyes squinting at the young woman.
The ballet instructors looked behind before turning to each other, they seemed to be conflicted as to what to say to their manager before the young woman raised her hand hesitantly, holding a folded piece of paper out to the dark-haired manager.
"I-I was told to give this to y-you M-Mademoiselle Baudin." she stammered as her soft voice was heard by the manager who could only smile.
"Of course Petite Mademoiselle, but please, come forward." she said gently as she took the letter from the young woman who now appeared to be of a poor family, the violin seemed to be the only thing that was grand compared to the girl's clothes.
She looked at the letter and realised that the handwriting was that of the founder's.
Dear Mlle. Baudin,
I have found this orphan wandering the streets playing the violin so beautifully, I believe we have enough room for another violinist to join in the orchestra do you not?
If you wish, you may interview her and have her audition, but I believe your good sense of judgement will prove any doubts wrong.
The orphan's name is Garland, she is fifteen years old and she will be under the Palais de Musique's care from now on.
Yours truly,
M. Fabre Gillenormand
P.T.O. Should she not meet your expectations (which I doubt) I would advise putting her as a stagehand or a member of the corps de ballet.
After reading the letter, Esme nodded and looked at the orphan, Garland, whom she smiled at, she reached her hand out and gestured for the young lady to come closer.
"Can you play a piece?" she inquired, Garland nodded, bringing the violin to her chin, she closed her eyes and brought the bow to the tight strings of the instrument.
What followed next was indescribable music which began as a peaceful hum that soon disappeared into the sounds of war followed by a sudden change of grief and sorrow along with heartbreak, it was later on changed into a music so joyful that a person tends to smile upon hearing the first note and suddenly the music dropped to hopelessness, it was later ended by the same music the piece was started with.
By the time the piece ended, Monsieur Jondrette was weeping, like her partner, Mademoiselle de Maupassant was wiping away any signs of tears only for fresh ones to slide down her cheeks, Madame Rossetti was burying her face in her hands and Mademoiselle Baudin was looking down, her eyes were closed and her body was trembling.
Esme looked up and smiled gently, tears were shining in her eyes, she pulled the girl gently and embraced her, Garland, who too was weeping, stiffened but soon relaxed into the embraced, she could only hear the welcoming words of those who surrounded her.
"Welcome to the family Petite Mademoiselle." came the gentle, shaking voice of Madame Rossetti who kissed the young girl's head.
Garland could only close her eyes and smile at the thoughts of a new family, who perhaps will never leave her.
ooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOooOoo
But perhaps not everyone was happy upon reaching the Palais de Musique, for you see we should never forget the Phantom who this chapter is dedicated to.
He arrived in the opera-house quite quickly, and upon discovering that it was different than the Opera Populaire by many reasons, he now decided to try and find a secret entry to the inside of the opera-house. But was however quite unlucky with his search, he only managed to find one entrance which appeared to be quite unknown and it was behind the opera-house, he came across this when evening has set in.
He was quite impatient upon reaching the secret entry, but when he entered, he realised it was exactly like that of the Opera Populaire's, the entrance only led him to a sewer. He scowled, he will have to make another "home" for him to inhabit, this idea was not welcoming seeing as he cannot have a purpose for such trivial things, but where was he to put his compositions? With a sigh, he decided to begin with building his new lair.