"Roses for my girls!" The girls squealed in delight as Monsieur Lefevre entered their dressing area bearing an armful of pink roses. Lefevre adored each girl in the ballet corps as if they were his own daughters, and after each performance he would present them all with a single pink rose.
Christine had never felt so much excitement in her life. She had been living at the Opera House for four months and in that time she was able to master the basic skills of ballet. She was in no way ready to follow the elder girls such as Nicole and perform "en Pointe," but she was able to keep up with the younger girls such as Meg on stage.
Lefevre applauded joyously as he handed Christine her rose. "And a special BRAVO! To our new addition! It was magnificent to watch you dance Miss Daae!" He said shaking her hand as if she was a great lady. Christine blushed and curtsied grandly as Monsieur Lefevre kissed her small hand. As Monsieur Lefevre left he placed a large kiss on Madame Giry's cheek.
"You should congratulate yourself on such beauties Madame! Good night
Ladies!" The girls' laughter and squeals echoed throughout the corridors.
"Somebody shut them up!" Buquet said loudly as he swung through the rafters securing the backdrops and fly area for the following day's performance.
Christine's first night in the Opera House had made her wary, but her ballet training had kept her mind and body busy and happy. Music was something special to her, something that could take her away from all the pain she often felt. Dancing to the wonderful music of the opera orchestra had made her feel like an angel in heaven, floating through the clouds.
"Look at this Christine!" Meg giggled as she tried on Katherine, a Pointe dancer's, shoes. "I'm a great lady!" Meg said proudly.
Christine and Meg had become close friends, being the youngest in the corps made them the perfect combination. Meg had even requested that her bed be moved next to Christine's.
The dormitory smelled of roses and exhaustion that evening. By ten o'clock each ballerina had settled into a fulfilling sleep.
Madame Giry wept reading the note she had received on Christine's second day in the Opera House.
"You promised to never leave me...but you did Claire you left me to my own darkness. Out of guilt you have returned… "
"Madameosille Morrisett," A stern voice echoed throughout the dormitory as fifteen-year old Claire Morrisett sat quietly, her head hung."Where have you been? Was I unclear in my announcement that the ballet corps were to be on stage this morning ready for a costume fitting at exactly 7 o' clock? I must have been because now I have a dancer with no costume!" Madame Jaqout's voice had risen has she clutched the young girl's shoulder firmly.
"I-I," Claire knew there was no excuse she could give as to her whereabouts that morning.
"You will not be performing in this opera. Your solos will be given to the Gascout girl. You…you can watch from the wings and assist the girls with their costume changes. If this irresponsibility continues Mademoiselle Morissett we have no choice but to send you home…" Her voice trailed off as she left the room clicking the door firmly.
"Now look what you've gotten me into…" Claire said half to herself, and half to the young boy who had hidden under a neighboring bed upon the Ballet Mistress' entrance.
"But…Claire, I have to eat." The boy said creeping out from under the bed and kneeling next to her.
"I know…but…I promised you a home, a place to live. I can help you still, but only at night. I cannot risk being sent home. My parents are too poor to continue supporting their eldest child along with my four siblings." Claire realized she was blabbering on about matters this boy couldn't possibly care about. "I'm sorry."
"Nights. I will see you nights." The tall and wiry boy slithered out of the room as quickly as he had entered leaving Claire sitting on her bed close to tears.
Four-years later Claire Morrisett had fallen in love with a flute player in the Opera Orchestra named Bernoulli Giry.
He saw her standing there, her beautiful red hair flowing under her large black hat. She was leaving. He knew she was leaving. He had nothing to say to her.
"I am nothing but a sixteen-year old boy with an infatuation." He told himself.
He never forgave her for getting married and leaving him. His first love, his savior, Claire Morissett was dead to him.