"Oh Madame LeRoy!" Genny gasped. The dressing room seemed full of white pleats and soft fold of fabric. Genny twirled about on a small stool as one of the seamstress and Madame Leroy surveyed their work.

"It is absolutely beautiful" she exclaimed, running her hands up and down the sides of her gown. "You have truly out done yourself this time." I was certain that Genevieve knew more about opera costumes than I did, since I have never worn one. I had to agree with her opinion that the seemingly simple Grecian gown appeared stunning draped over Genevieve's petite frame. The neckline draped low and the arms were left bare. While the other performers had stoles and mantles of different colors placed over their shoulders, Genny's costume had only folds of light gold draped from her arm, attached with small ties at her elbows and wrists. They seemed to glide like wings as she moved them about.

Already, It had been a busy morning for me. I was just finishing up the last round of costumes fittings before the opera started it's week long ordeal of dress rehearsals. I had been following Madame Leroy from each dressing room, handing out garments, taking notes and holding pins as they examined, pulled and marked each cosutme for a precise fit. Afterward, I carefully labeled the costumes and noted the alternation needing to be made before placing them on a convenient rolling clothes rack that followed us from room to room. What had been convenient at the start was now becoming a heavy burden with each new costume added. Thankfully Genny's fitting was the last one before lunch.

"Ah but you haven't seen the best part, Mlle. De Chagny." Madame pointed out, reaching into a pocket of the large apron she worn around her fashionable dress. She withdrew a small box and gestured for both Genny and myself to come in for a closer look. She opened it and brought out a small gold bracelet.

Genny peered down, examining it. It was a simple gold bracelet from first appearance, until Madame fingered the clasp to open it. We both gasped to see that the bracelet snapped open and close by a spring in the shape of the head of a deer. The deer head was sleek, with large antlers curved into the sides near the clasp.

"I've seen bracelets in this style with lion's heads before but I've never seen anything like this." Genny noted

"It's a stag, the symbol of the goddess Diana." I pointed out.

Madame LeRoy smiled at me. "Correct Christine. You must know your mythology well."

Classical mythology was not a subject expected to be knowledgeable among ladies like myself. "I confess I do enjoy reading the classics." I admitted. Among the collection of books left behind by the late Professor Valerius, there were works of Greek philosophy and history, as well as music. Over the years, I had made the time to read most, if not all of them.

"I know a jeweler over on the Rue de Marquee who is more than willing to loan me a piece for the opera in return for publicity. I had seen bracelets with lion's head in his shop and inquired if he was interested in the challenge of making one with a stag's head instead." she turned an admiring eye to the bracelet as she clipped it over Genny's wrists. "I think from your approving reaction ladies, he did his job well."

Genny raised her arms and then turned to admire her entire outfit in the mirror on her wall. Besides her virginal white gown, she also wore a gold headpiece with a short veil. The headpiece was in the shape of a crescent moon, another symbol of Diana.

I smiled. My friend had grown into an exceptionally beautiful woman. She looked lovely in almost any garment, but in this outfit, she looked absolutely stunning. In that moment, I felt a tinge of jealously. It would be wonderful to trade places with her. To be dressed in beautiful gowns instead of having to dress others in them. The bracelet was the finishing touch. I couldn't even imagine having the ability or position to wear a custom made piece of jewelry.

As if she knew my thoughts, Genny removed the bracelet and slipped it on my own wrist. I was shocked, but she only smiled, examining the bangle that rested upon my skin

The other two women excused themselves, while I helped Genny undress. Despite being being brought up in a household full of servants, Genny considered herself very independent and went out of her way to exhibit it. I hadn't even hooked the costume back on its hanger, when she was already half way dressed again in her street clothes. Her hands fumbled at the buttons on her back, all the while muttering in frustration.

I had to laugh. "Let me help you." I effortlessly hooked the buttons together, and now even Genny chuckled. She proceeded to brush out her hair and style it.

"Christine, you do remember the stories your father told us when we were children?" she asked. I nodded. "Do you remember the one of Little Lotte?"

I looked at her face in the mirror, not quite sure what brought on this line of questioning. "Of course"

"Tell it to me." She pleaded

It took me a moment, but the words came back to me, as familiar as if they had been the words to my nightly prayers.

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was golden as the sun's rays and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheeled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes….."

Genny interrupted me. "Oh course now I remember. You know Christine, Raoul told me back when we were still young that you reminded him of Little Lotte."

"Me? Not really." I protested. Genny had be strikingly beautiful went she was a child. I was no comparison to her then or now.

"Of course. You had such lovely blue eyes when you were little. I was always jealous of them." She gestured up to her face and her narrow brown eyes. "They are still lovely." She added.

"And her fiddle, but most of all loved, when she went to sleep to hear the angel of music." I finished. *

Genny put her brush down and stared blankly into the mirror. "I wanted to be Lotte, every time I heard that story. Not just because I wanted blue eyes…" she glanced sideways at me. "Or a father who could play the violin." She added with a smile. "No it was because I wanted to hear the Angel of Music. I thought how lucky little Lotte must have been to be visited by the angel"

"I'll admit, I thought the same thing." I offered. That was the truth.

Turning quickly in her chair to face me, she clasped both of my hands. "Then Christine, since we are such dear friends, I can share with you my wonderful secret." Her brown eyes were bright and her face seemed to glow as a blush of excitement rose to her cheeks. "I have been visited by the angel."

I blinked in disbelief and that one small gesture seemed to upset her.

"You don't believe, but I tell you it is true. I started to hear his voice a few months ago, here in my dressing room."

His voice. I raised my eyebrows in puzzlement. "His voice? The Angel of Music is a man?" I asked.

"No, he is an angel" she emphasized. "He only has the voice of a man, and oh Christine, what an enchanting and beautiful voice it is!"

She stood up and walked to the center of the room in a daze. As if she was reliving a memory. "He spoke to me here. Yet I could not see him. When I realized there was no one in my room or outside the door, I was frightened. He promised me he would instruct me to become a great singer. Then I asked him if he were the Angel of Music."

She paused and raised her fingers to her lips, a nervous habit of hers. "There was no answer, and I thought that my question was too bold and that he had left disgusted with me. But at last, he answered in that masterful voice of his 'Yes my child I am the Angel of Music' He told me he was sent from heaven to teach me not only to sing, but to make me a star. So he calls to me while I am in my dressing room and gives me voice lessons. I heard music around us as I sing, sometimes a violin accompanying me. Sometime, he joins in with his own voice, which is a wonder to hear. He promised me one day I would be the prima donna, if only I obeyed his instructions."

"What instructions?" I asked with both curiosity and concern.

"That I devote myself only to music. I could not be lazy or idle. I should respect my teacher by not seeing any men or seeking out any relationships."

"That seems very strict demands."I pointed out. Are you sure he is an angel? The question was on my lips but I did not speak it.

"Yes, but the sacrifice is worth it. And I promised not to tell anyone about him." She said listlessly, adding this information as an afterthought.

My head shaking in confusion, I blurted out. "But you just told me about him!"

Genny simple shrugged her shoulders and smiled at me. "Of course I did. But you already knew of the angel of music, Christine. I could only tell the people I trusted. You'll keep my secret" She explained. "And I have told the Angel of Music about you Christine. I have told him of your voice and your gift for music. The angel assured me that you too can become a great singer if you devote yourself completely to music. Only then will he appear to you."

I could have augured that the angel of music was just a story, but the way Genny explained this mysterious encounter fascinated me. I had believed in the angel as a child, when I still believed in foolish dreams. Even my dear father had promised me on his death bed that I would be touched by this heavenly power.

"When I am in heaven, Christine, I will send the Angel of Music to you."

But I had lost so much faith in many things since then. I no longer believed in angel or the power of stories. Genny obviously still believed. I recalled one of our earlier conversations.

"I have been promised it."

"Come Christine." Genny tugged at my arm. In a moment she had gone from her trance like explanation of the angel back to her busy self. "I'm taking you out to lunch. And don't try to refuse."

I removed the bracelet. I tucked the bracelet back inside its box and placed it in one of the drawers on the vanity. "I have to put the costumes away first." I explained.

"I'll help you but we must hurry. We only have an hour before rehearsal starts up again." So we gathered out purses and hat and locked the door as we left. For some reason I felt overly worried about the bracelet and double checked to see if the door was locked. It would upset me if anything happened to it. Genny grabbed the back end of the rolling rack and pushed it along with me as I guide it back to the costume department. A leading soprano and a costume girl, pulling a heavy rack together and laughing all the while.

What an odd looking pair we made.

#

I did all my tasks for the evening without any concern on how long they would take me. I carefully collected each robe, tunic, stole and laurel wreath scattered about the stage. If my situation had been any different, I would have felt upset having to do this large task all by myself.

But for now I was grateful. Grateful to be here instead of at Madame Valerius' house. In the empty space of the opera and its grand auditorium, I could be alone with my thoughts.

I could be alone in my room, but my thoughts would only turn to my door. Was it locked? Did Frederich have a key? Could he come in while I slept?
Here I was free of such thoughts. Most of the artists had retired to their homes. The chorus and other staff either emptied out into the bars and cafes around the opera or shut themselves away in their dormitories for the night.

As I returned to the stage for my final round of collections, I suddenly began to notice that I didn't hear the far away shutting of doors or the scuffles of feet. For once in the busy and grand palace of music, it was actually quite. I noticed the shepherd's crook used by Aristée was laying down stage left, leaning over the orchestra pit. I picked it up then used it to carry the remaining laurel wreaths and bits of ribbon that had fallen from unfinished costumes. Loose threads that had been snapped and cut from hems littered the stage floor. The only thing left now to do was sweep.

I paused for a moment and looked out into the empty auditorium. Soon my work would be done, and I would have to leave. But for a moment, I was alone on stage. I was the star of my own private opera. Papa had always dreamed I would be a great singer one day. That one day I would make him proud.

I guess this would be as close as I would come to that dream.

With a small jump in my step, I made my way over to another discarded wreath and sang the lines from the Transformation Scene from the first act.

"It's not so bad when the God of Death is in love with you"

I smiled as I sang. Genny had been right. The plot for this opera was rather silly. Maybe Carlotta's rants had been justified. That the plot was so ridiculous that if they changed it no one would notice. I leaned down to pick up the wreaths, thrusting my breath from my midsection to push the final notes out. I finished hooking the wreath around the crook then swinging it around in giddy triumph.

Clap.

I turned to the direction of the noise, assuming it was just another sound echoing from backstage. Perhaps it was the mysterious trap door men, who I had seen sulking about the shadow, constantly opening and shutting the opera's many doors. There was a sound of another clap, then another. My hearing had not been clear the first time. The sound was coming from the auditorium. It continued.
It was not just an empty noise, caused by a door or creaking floor. It was the sound of someone actually applauding, slowly and methodically.

"Well done, Persephone..."

The voice seemed to speak right in my ear. It was a deep and enchanting sound. I gasped and dropped the shepherd's crook. It fell to the floor with a horrible noise. I starred out into the dark space, dazed for I knew that the clapping had come from in front of me, but the voice seemed to issue from somewhere behind me. As if the person speaking were standing over my shoulders.

A quick glance around my shoulder assured me that I was alone. I could feel a red hot blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. Someone had heard me singing! I felt embarrassed and frightened, for I did not know who the voice belonged to.

There was silence for a moment. No clapping, no whispers and defiantly no singing. I crouched down to pick up the fallen crook and placed a hand to my head. Perhaps I had just dreamed it? It was a beautiful voice that had spoken that simple sentence. Almost too beautiful to be real.

Persephone...

I stood again and took a few steps towards the edge of the stage. Looking out into the darkness, I spoke in an even tone. "Eurydice. Eurydice is the one who sings that." I felt confident but at the same time foolish. If there was no one there, who was I trying to impress with my knowledge.

"But it was Persephone who was the goddess of the underworld. She was the wife of Hades." the voice called back.

I jumped and then looked down into the orchestra pit. Perhaps the voice was coming from there. However there were no lamps left on in the pit below my feet, and even though I was so close, I could not see clearly.

It was not a dream.

"Who's there?" I called out. I gripped the crook in my hands, ready to defend myself. "Please show yourself!"

"According to the myth, the goddess of spring was kidnapped by the god of death. But his intentions were not evil. He only brought her to the underworld out of love." the voice elegantly explained.

My back was rigid and my mind raced to think of the nearest door to leave. I started to retreat.

"Mademoiselle wait!" it called. I should have ignored it but I stopped. "Like Hades, my intentions are good. Please stay."

I turned around, glancing at the darken corridors and wings that lead off stage. "Then please, tell me where you are?"

"Where did you learn to sing like that?" the voice asked.

I was no close to learning the position of the voice then when it had first spoke to me. So I directed my answers toward the center of the stage. "My father taught me music. I've sung since I was a child."

"You are not in the chorus." It was more of a statement than a question.

"No..." My head titled up. I had remembered the intricate catwalks and ropes above my head. I has seen the scene shifters and stagehand gilded about them with such ease. Perhaps the voice was hiding up there.

I squinted to see above me but there was not enough light. I pulled my chin back down and out of the corner of my eye; I saw a dark shadow move. It was black enough to stand out even in the darkness. My gaze made its way to the grand tier boxes that hung on the sides of the auditorium.

And then I saw him.

The outline of a figure in one of the boxes to my left. With my limited access to light, I could only make out that it was a tall body of a man, wrapped in a dark coat. I felt my stomach drop and my instinct cried out to run away. Anyone who would be hiding in an opera box at night certainly did not have any good intentions.

"Why are you not in the chorus?" the beautiful voice started to sound upset.

I swallowed hard. "I'm not good enough." I managed to gasp out. "I'm only a dresser."

Even though I couldn't not see the man's face, I felt his eyes burrowing into me. I could imagine him frowning at my weak response.

"Have you ever wanted to be a great singer, Persephone?" he asked.

I knew that I could lie to him. I sense that he could tell if I was. "Yes, but I suppose everyone in my situation does. I dreamed of being an opera singer as a little girl..." Now I frowned, thinking back to the fond memories of meeting Genny at the seashore, and being allowed into her home to sing and play the piano. Memories of my father accompanying us on his violin and telling us ghost stories.

"But I grew up."

"It is not too late, mademoiselle. There is no time when dreams cease to become real." the voice answered softly, as if he could feel the pain I felt at the memories of my father.

Who was this man behind the shadows, speaking of gods and dreams?

"I'm afraid you are wrong there, monsieur. There is no time for dreams to come true ever." I told him defiantly. "That's why they are called dreams." I turned on my heels to go, trying to disguise my eagerness to leave. Moments ago, I felt happy in the only place I could be alone. The one place I felt could be mine if only for an hour or two as I finished my work. A place free of judgmental thoughts and peering eyes. Now I had been caught prancing and singing to myself like a child. I felt like I was being mocked by a man who obviously must work at the opera. He was probably a member of the chorus himself, looking forward to tomorrow when he could laugh at me to my face.

My eyes were growing wet. I just wanted to leave.

"Meet me here tomorrow evening. Give me a chance to prove you wrong." he called out to me.

I jerked my head around. "How?" I could already feel the tears coming down my cheeks and I quickly tried to wipe them off.

"I didn't mean to make you upset. I only wanted to help you." his voice was now soft. "If you would only let me. I could train your voice."

"Believe me, if I had the means to have my voice trained, I would have done so years ago." I was surprised at the anger rising in my voice. I had told myself time and time again that I was happy with my position and that my desires to be a singer were nothing more than a childhood fantasy. Genny had even stopped pestering me about it. Now this stranger had upset me to the point that I was losing control of my emotions. "I couldn't afford singing lessons. I couldn't get into a conservatory. I couldn't even think of having a career in music. And I don't want to get my hopes up again."

Here I was on an empty stage, crying and pouring over my regrets. While a stranger in the shadows watched and listened.

"I will give you singing lessons...for free."

I ran. "If this is your idea of a joke..." I called behind my shoulder, but I was too upset to finish. I tossed the crook with the wreaths into a bin in the wings. I would just come to work early the next day to finish cleaning. For now I had to get away. Not just from the man in the shadows...

But from myself.

My boots stomped against the floor as I stormed out, and the voice called out over the sound.

"Goodnight Persephone."