Angel of music chapter 4
Gustave Daae's funeral came quickly. It was early morning around dawn at Perros. Madame Giry had handled the arrangements of the ceremony so all I had to do was show up with my little darling in hand.
It was only Christine, Meg, Madame Giry and a priest at the short burial. I was there but a little ways away from where they were, hidden between the lifeless statues.
Christine looked horrid in black. I had made her a dress for the solemn occasion and I lavished it with ribbons and lace but nothing could make a crying girl look beautiful. As soon as the service was over I will take that dress and hide it so that she will never have to wear it again. I much preferred her in white or blue or even gold, but she could not wear such cheery colors at a funeral.
Never again should she hide within black folds of fabric. Only I would wear such a dark color.
After a few hours the service and burial, we headed back to the tiny apartment that was our temporary home. I took Christine a back way in order to avoid the possibility of someone seeing me on the street. While Giry had bought me a mask, I despised it entirely. It made my deformity hurt and burn beyond what was healthy. So instead of wearing the dreaded costume piece, I was wearing some gauze wrapped around my head in order to hide it. My hair was utterly terrible. At some point it had been black, but the years of trauma and stress led to my hair being more grey than black. As soon as I was able to I would buy a wig to hide my grey hair and a mask that would make myself look like the most attractive man alive.
While I didn't necessarily care what the rest of the world thought of my appearance, I did want Christine to find me a bit attractive. She would no doubt grow into a most beautiful woman and she should have a decent looking husband.
The rest of the day was spent indoors.
Christine was lying on her couch in a state of despairing grief. Her eyes glistened with tears. As I held her hand, while she was awake and while she was asleep, I wondered just how long it would take until she smiled again.
…
The next few weeks passed by quickly. The days were all the same though I couldn't say it was boring.
The first week of Christine and I living there was spent with countless tears and the annoying Meg asking her mother when we were to leave every chance she got.
I despised that girl. Meg was about 9, almost 3 years older than my darling Christine. She was blonde and had blue eyes. While she would no doubt grow up to be known as beautiful, I did not find the creature or what she would become attractive at all. She focused too much on outer beauty. While I did find beauty important, I preferred Christine's heart of gold.
Within that first week, I wrote several cheap sounding compositions which Giry sold for a fair profit. I saved most of the money; fore I had a future intent for it. After a little while of Giry's complaints against me, I gave her a good sum of money just to keep her away.
I was growing a bit famous, those few weeks. The theaters had started publishing brief performances of music whose composer is unknown. It sent the spectators into a buzz on who this mysterious composer was.
After a week of grief, I started to educate Christine. It surprised me to learn that she couldn't even read let alone read music. While it was a setback, it was rather enjoyable to help her read.
"Once again, Christine."
"Many...and...many...a...eh...year...ah...ah...ago." She stammered the poem.
Meg laughed, knowing how to read but not grateful for the skill, and I shot her a deadly glare.
"Slowly, Christine." I reminded her, "do not make a single sound until you have the word in your mind. Again."
"Many and many a year ago." She said with long pauses between each and every word, "in a kingdom by the sea."
Music was Christine's, and my, favorite part of the day. She knew quite a lot about music from her late father, who was a violinist. She knew her scales, proper breathing techniques and had incredible range for a young girl. Training her voice was the highlight of my day. Her golden throat sounded like winter silver bells through a snow covered forest. It was hard to believe the girl was facing crippling depression with such a sweet, delightful and innocent voice. Her voice took us both away to a wondrous realm of music and is too beautiful to describe with words. If I had access to a piano to accompany her singing, the angel would weep because of the beauty of our spirits and souls combining in a beautiful melody.
The same could not be said for the little Giry. She focused on dance because her mother was the ballet mistress at the opera. As soon as Meg turned 15, she would start performing in the operas as a ballerina and a chorus girl thanks to her mother's position. Giry also intended for Christine to perform their as well but I would never allow it.
I had lived in the opera house for a brief year when I was a young child, about 8 or 9, before the gypsies found me and returned me to my cage. What I found there was music and beauty, which I embraced, but also horror. Long hours, the ballerina's practiced and faced endless attention from the stage hands. Of course some girls refused the vile men, but most rather enjoyed their company and attention. I would most definitely not allow my little Christine near those men. The costumes weren't acceptable either. I would never let my Christine to be displayed in such a way. She deserves much more than a being mere chorus girl in a scandalous outfit.
But I allowed Giry to have her delusional dreams and let her teach Christine to dance. Christine was surprisingly good at dancing, but nowhere near the standard that Giry expected of her.
It soon came to my mind that Giry and I were both handling Christine's father's death in the same way: distracting the girl from the pain by never allowing her time to dwell on it.
Almost a month had passed between my escape and the time I decided to take Christine on a walk. It shames me to know that a simple thing like going to the market caused mass panic in my head. But it was time Christine and I joined the world.
I dressed myself in an expensive black suit, black fedora and thick black coat. I hid my deformity behind my usual neatly wrapped gauze. If anyone asked about it, I would say it was a burn that the doctor had told me to cover up. But I rather doubted that I would talk to anyone on this trip.
I looked incredibly different than what I had a month ago. I was no longer the pathetic man cowering like a wounded animal in a cage. I was a man. Mysterious and uneasy, but I was at least human now.
Christine was dressed in her usual blue dress and coat. I was rather proud of her in keeping her outfit so neat this past month. Most children (including Meg) would ruin such a pretty thing within minutes. But she kept all that I gave her clean and looking like new. No matter, I was planning on spoiling her today. As it was my first time in public after gaining my freedom, I would be able to pick out things myself and not have to deal with the things that Giry bought with my salary.
"Where are we going, monsieur?" Christine said, almost running in the snow to keep up with my leisurely stroll. She was such a tiny thing.
"Out shopping and maybe a walk around the lake."
We walked a few blocks through the snow until we reached the center of the city. Everyone was bustling and walking around in utter chaos. It was easy for Christine and I to disappear amongst the oblivious shoppers.
I was unable to take Christine's hand: I was far too tall and she was far too short for our hands to touch. I didn't think of this problem before hand, not believing such a problem would occur, but i began to see the seriousness of the problem when the mass of people swept Christine away and out of my sight.
My heart race quickened. I had lost her in the crowd and had no telling where she was. I called her name, trying to get a response. It didn't work.
"Christine!" I yelled, calling unwanted attention to myself, "Christine! Where are you!"
After a few minutes, with my heart frantically pounding against my chest, I saw a little girl dressed in blue leaning up against a store window staring into the store.
"Ah Christine." I signed in relief and walked over to the curly haired girl.
She looked up at me. Her large brown eyes looked a bit fearful.
"Sorry, Erik. I got lost. I thought it would be best to wait her."
"You did nothing wrong, little one. But we can't have you getting lost again."
I bent down, picked up the little mademoiselle and took her in my arms. She was so light. It was like carrying a rag doll.
Looking into the store she had stood by, I saw it was a toy store. Numerous families with young children made up the occupants of the store. For a moment, I foolishly thought that it was rather odd for the store to be packed until I realized that it was the beginning of winter which meant that Christmas was soon.
I had never celebrated the holiday myself. It's rather hard to be joyful leaving in a cage. But the day usually meant no one was at the fair which meant less pain for me. I never saw the importance of such a pointless holiday: it was just an excuse to be joyful over nothing. But, now I had an excuse to get something nice for my darling, so I now loved the pointless holiday.
"Isn't she pretty?" Christine asked me.
"Who?" I asked her, jolting back to reality.
"The doll."
She pointed one hand at a china doll in the toy window. It was rather pretty and no doubt rather expensive. The families in their couldn't possibly afford such a trinket. It was probably just there to lure in customers.
"It is beautiful." I said, but in my mind I thought that Christine was more beautiful than the trinket.
As I did my shopping (which included buying a black wig for myself so that I could relieve myself of the fedora) I saw that Christine's eyes kept wandering back to the toy store. Not being a fool, I knew how much she wanted the doll. And I had every intent of getting it for her.
I took Christine to a dress shop a few stores away from the toy store. I wanted to get a better dress for my little angel. While the numerous ladies pined up fabric against Christine in order to make a beautiful dress of gold, white and blue, I left briefly to the toy store.
Walking into it, I saw chaos. Toys and children everywhere. Parents trying to purcase items while trying to control their kids. The chaos was a bit entertaining to watch but frustrating to be a part of. As expected though, when someone saw a large man cloaked in black whose face was half covered, they kept their distance. I easily made my way to the counter.
"How much is the doll in the window." I looked down at the young woman behind the counter.
"500 francs." (That's about 100 dollars our time) The girl said. "I've had about 20 families ask that today. You like the first one that can afford it."
"Wrap up the doll and bring it here." I said, showing her a 500 franc note.
She did what I asked and I left the store with a large hatbox object in my hand and about a day's worth of wages out of my pocket.
I came back to the dress shop to find my little Christine in a stunning long sleeved white dress, freckled with blue and gold flowers on the skirt. She hadn't even realized I had left which was perfect.
The woman who was assisting us took the dress once Christine had removed it and wrapped it up in a slim white box.
As I paid the woman at the counter, she tried to have a conversation with me.
"She's such a charming little girl." The woman said as I counted out franc notes from my wallet, "But I noticed that there is a large cut on her arm."
"If you are suggesting that I hurt my little darling I swear…"
"No no no, monsieur." the woman said, but I still knew that she was questioning my integrity, "I was just…"
"It would be wise of you to not pry in my affairs. There are plenty of other stores I could go to."
"I meant no harm, monsieur. I was just concerned for your daughter."
"She is not my daughter, Mademoiselle. She is my cousin's daughter."
"Oh I thought that she was…"
"I know perfectly well of what you thought my relationship to the girl was. But I consider her my niece." I was growing tired of this conversation, but it was essential to tell the gossiping woman how I am related to Christine so she can spread the gossip and rumors about me. It would save me the trouble of having to explain it to everyone. "Her mother died in childbirth and her father died recently when he was attacked by those gypsies that left town recently and unexpectedly so I hear. The girl was an orphan and I took her in. End of story. Now if you please, I wish to purchase those two bonnets that are behind you along with the dress."
She packed up the 3 articles of clothing into boxes much like the box the china doll was in, I handed her the franc notes and she handed the boxes to me.
"Come, Christine." I called the child to my side and she quickly obeyed.
I looked like a circus act as I walked down the streets balancing numerous boxes on my shoulders and under my arm. Christine, being the little angel she is, asked to take two boxes from me to carry. After much debate in my head, I handed her two of the lighter ones.
"Thank you so so much, monsieur." Christine said. "The dress is beautiful."
"You have been through much, little child." I said as we reached our temporary home. "You should enjoy only the best from now on."
"You are an angel, monsieur." Christine's cheeks flushed red. "You are so kind to me and I have done anything kind to you. You always buy me beautiful things. And teaching me how to read. And how to sing."
"You have done more for me than you know." I told her as I opened the door to the apartment, "You've given me light in my darkness. I shall do the same to you. I give you my word."