By quarter to three, Christine had washed her hands and face, and had changed into a suitable gown. Her dress was very casual and comfortable, but it felt more appropriate than her maid uniform. The nervous excitement from the morning had boiled down to a terrified anxiousness by this point. She felt her stomach flop around in her stomach at the thought of being in the presence of such a temperamental musical genius. She had refused lunch for fear of vomiting it up during practice, which would clearly not do.
At the first chime of the clocks to signal the hour, she knocked shyly on the door of the music room.
"Enter."
Being careful to open the door as silently as possible, she entered the room. It felt very cavernous to her now and she tried desperately to calm her nerves. She could feel a nervous blush scorching her cheeks and was mortified at her obvious discomfort.
Master Destler watched her with ever-critical eyes as she entered the room, and stood next to an arm chair by the fire.
"Stand there." He indicated towards the far end of the grand piano.
Christine moved to where he indicated, hovering close to the black wood she had polished herself only yesterday.
"First lesson is posture." He stood from the piano bench and approached her. She felt a new rush of nerves attack her stomach as he came near.
With clipped instructions and touches so light they felt like a breath of wind, he indicated how she should hold herself, while explaining that proper posture would allow more air into the lungs, and better control over vocal pitch. She very obediently followed his directions until he deemed her posture acceptable. He then told her to relax and attempt to find the stance on her own. After several tries she was able to assume singing posture without assistance and he seated himself at the piano.
"You must also learn to read sheet music," He stated, handing her a page of what seemed to be very basic notes.
"Those are scales. I will play them for you on the piano and name the notes. Attempt to sing them once I have demonstrated."
Master Destler then proceeded to play the various scales on his piano, telling her about flat notes and sharp notes. She sang the scales to him several times over and he determined her vocal range. For the next hour she practiced singing scales and various notes. He drilled her and quizzed her by telling her to sing a B flat or an E sharp, or by handing her a new sheet of simple music and asking her to sight read.
By the end of two hours she was dismissed and told to return the next day. Her throat felt sore from so much use, but it seemed that he was pleased with her progress. She was thoroughly questioned about her lesson while she sipped tea with honey. Raoul grumbled about how he still thought it seemed creepy until Ruth teased that he simply had a crush on Christine and was jealous of the Master, at which point he blushed and exited the room.
Each lesson was more challenging than the last. Christine sang her scales until they were perfect and exercised her voice until it was powerful enough to fill an auditorium. Though, as she improved, Master Destler's expectations of her grew. When she would make a mistake, he would scold her harshly, sometimes yelling or slamming down on the piano keys.
With time it became a frequent occurrence for her to be brought to tears by his harsh criticisms and high expectations. Of course, Raoul boasted that he was right to not trust the man and took special care in comforting her after lessons that ended poorly.
Maestro Destler, as he came to be called by Christine, began demanding more and more from her voice. Though she tried her best, and truly did improve, it did not seem to be enough for him.
"No! That is wrong can you not hear it?" He shouted at her.
Christine cringed at his tone and fought back tears, loathing how weak they made her seem in front of him.
"Do you enjoy making errors? Is that why you insist on creating so many? Is it your goal to provoke me?"
"No it's not!" She screamed back, tears escaping her eyes which she ashamedly scrubbed away.
He was silent at her outburst and she continued.
"I do not enjoy making errors, I do not try to make them, and my goal is to please you!" She hiccupped sorrowfully "I want to make you proud of me. I want to my voice to make music that is fractionally as beautiful as the music you make."
He did not reply and simply watched her stand there, trembling as she fought to hold down sobs.
"Would you like to hear some of my music?" He asked her softly and she nodded slightly.
With almost tender care he began the first few lines of a song unfamiliar to her. Then he began to sing.
Christine listened as though entranced by his voice. It was otherworldly to her and Little Lotte came to mind, stories of an angel of music who would sing songs when the girl was asleep in her bed. Truly, this man was blessed by God, for there was no other way he could produce such grippingly beautiful abilities. Vaguely, Christine rationalized this must be why he has to cover his face. If anyone is to be born with such an amazing talent, they cannot be permitted to be handsome. Mortals may only possess so much perfection, lest they become too close to God.
His voice filled her with so many emotions at once that she felt herself coming apart at the seams. It was with great sadness his song ended and she felt tears fall across her cheeks from the sheer force of the music. Without realizing it, she took steps towards the man, who eyed her distrustfully. She halted herself an arm's length away from him, not certain what she had intended to do.
"That was beautiful." She whispered before laughing "Though beautiful is not an adequate word to describe it."
He smiled tightly at her.
Christine sighed heavily and felt as though her heart had grown heavier since she heard the song.
"You do please me."
Her stomach clenched tightly at the words.
"Your voice has greatly improved. It has improved so much, I find myself forgetting that it is not a heavenly instrument without flaw, and thus any imperfection startles me." His voice is soft, and yet stiff as though unused to tenderness. She met his gaze and felt herself swell with happiness at his praise. He studied her face intently as though trying to drink in the expression.
"As you are well aware we are hosting a Christmas Eve gala in the home very soon. I would like you to sing at the event."
Christine gasped and her hand flew to her breast. "Me?"
He nodded and stood, walking to the desk closest to the piano and lifting a small stack of papers from its surface, which he handed to her. "These are the songs I would like for you to familiarize yourself with. We shall also need to get you a new outfit, more appropriately suited for the occasion."
She nodded frantically as her eyes scanned the sheet music he presented her with. They were very elegant seeming opera-styled hymns. She looked up with excitement blazing in her eyes and once again she felt he was drinking in the sight.
"Tomorrow, instead of a lesson we shall go into town to find you a dress." With that he dismissed her and she flew from the room with a happy giggle bubbling from her lips.
