Chapter IX: Christine Sings

It was November 29th. A few weeks had passed since Christine's surprising announcement that she would be singing in the scholarship concert, and Mother and I were both very excited to hear her singing again. We were sitting in the auditorium, waiting for the concert to start. Next to us were Little Jammes and her elder sister, whom nobody ever referred to as Big Jammes, only by her Christian name, Louise. We passed the program leaflet between us, as there had been a shortage of them. Apparently there were eight contestants, all of them students at the college. There were two basses, one baritone, one tenor, two mezzo-sopranos and, finally, two sopranos - Carlotta Piangi and Christine Daae. I asked Little Jammes about a few of the other singers.

"Pauline, one of the mezzos, is quite good", Little Jammes said. "She has a great sense of humor, too. She's a friend of Louise's."

"Marcel, the baritone, is not bad either", added Louise Jammes.

"What do you think about Carlotta?" I asked.

"She's probably the most technically skilled singer of them all", Louise said, "and she knows it!"

"I've only heard her once", I admitted, "but I didn't like her. Her singing seemed so... I don't know, clinical."

"I know what you mean!" exclaimed Little Jammes. "One thinks one should be impressed with her because everyone is, but there's just something annoying about her. What about your cousin, what's she like?"

"Christine?" I said. "I haven't heard her sing in months - she has been having problems with her voice ever since her father died. At one point she almost gave up singing entirely. But now, things appear to be going better."

"I hope she does well", Little Jammes said. "She seems such a kind person, she deserves it!"

My mother turned and hushed at us. The concert was about to start.

We listened in silence to the first few performances. None of them were bad, of course, but there was nothing significant about any of them. Afterwards, I wouldn't have been able to remember which arias they sang without looking it up in the program notes. The first singer to make an impression was Marcel, the baritone. He had a pleasant, warm timbre and made quite an impression with his Figaro in the famous aria "Se vuol ballare" by Mozart. Next came the mezzo-soprano named Pauline, who sang the Habanera from Bizet's Carmen with a great deal of theatricality, flirting with the accompanist so enthusiastically that his music sheets fell to the floor and had to be retrieved by the page turner. This brought on laughter and a great deal of applause from the audience.

"That was the best so far!" chuckled Little Jammes, who was not used to staying quiet for any long period of time.

After a few more forgettable performances, there were only two singers left: Carlotta and Christine. I thought it a little unfair that they had put Christine immediately after Carlotta in the program, given Carlotta's status as the star of the singing class. In addition, Carlotta would be performing the Queen of the Night's aria from the second act of The Magic Flute, a piece she had probably chosen only to show off her high f.

"Wouldn't it be funny if she began to sing and it turned out she sounded like Florence Foster Jenkins?" Little Jammes mused.

I laughed. We had just found an old recording with the tone-deaf singer Little Jammes was referring to. It was the most atrocious thing I had ever heard, but remarkably funny. The idea of Carlotta sounding like that, and the shock it would give everyone, was priceless. Mother looked at me disapprovingly when I couldn't stop giggling. Little Jammes had a true talent for making me laugh at inappropriate times.

Carlotta started singing:

"Der Hölle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen..."

Sadly, she sounded just like her usual self. The high staccato notes were all there, which in itself was an impressive accomplishment, but she was just a little too smug about it. There was nothing of the Queen's diabolical rage, only Carlotta smiling triumphantly as she hit one high f after another. And it must be said, that even though she sang the coloraturas well enough, her voice seemed a bit strained in the sections between them, possibly due to the added difficulty of having to produce text as well as notes. Nevertheless, her performance was very well received by the audience and it seemed like the contest had an obvious winner. I am sure Christine's performance was, in most people's minds, a mere formality at this point.

That is, until she started singing.

Christine entered the stage, softly and without a sound. She stood for a minute letting her eyes wander across the auditorium, as if she were up in the mountains, taking in a splendid view. There was a slight smile on her lips. She nodded to the accompanist, and the first few measures of Gilda's aria "Caro nome" from Verdi's Rigoletto sounded. And then she sang!

I had heard Christine singing in the past, before Martin Daae's death, and her voice had been incredible then. Now, she seemed to have rediscovered all that had been lost to her during so many months. Everything that had once made her voice remarkable had returned: the unusually beautiful timbre, the crystal clear high notes and the warm, balanced middle range, the impeccable phrasing, the full and effortless forte and the breathtakingly soft piano - it was all there, and it didn't even seem difficult to her. Singing was as natural to her as talking, or even more so.

"Caro nome che il mio cor

festi primo palpitar..."

It was an aria sung by a young girl who falls in love for the first time, and Christine performed it very convincingly. Her eyes glowed as she sang about her love, and there was even a blush on her cheeks. She made the most wonderful cadenzas and coloraturas, probably in reality very difficult to sing well, but seemingly simple, as if they were only the natural consequences of Gilda's feelings. Her technique was perfect, but she didn't flaunt it like Carlotta. Instead, she just let the music speak for itself. This was not a student singing, it was a performance worthy of any large opera house in the country.

When Christine had finished the aria, there was a moment of stunned silence. It was more than a moment - nearly half a minute passed before the first person rose to his feet and clapped his hands wildly. The rest of the audience followed, and soon the sound of applause was deafening. Christine merely smiled, her gaze distant and dreaming, and took a bow. She then left the stage and didn't come back even though the audience were cheering loudly for her.

The jury didn't take long to reach a conclusion. Entering the stage, Philippe de Chagny announced that the winner of the scholarship was "that extraordinary new talent, Christine Daae". Christine came back on stage to receive a bouquet of flowers and a check for 3000 euros. She looked dazed and overwhelmed, and nearly tripped on her dress as she bowed a second time. I was on my feet, cheering and clapping my hands, and so were Mother and the Jammes sisters.

"I've never heard her sing like that before!" Mother said to me, struggling to make herself heard over the roar of applause. "What a development! I always knew she had a gift, but this... If only her dear father were here to see this!"

I nodded, thinking to myself that in Christine's mind, he probably was.

After the concert had ended I went to search for Christine in order to congratulate her. It turned out I was not the only one - a whole crowd had gathered outside the concert hall around her. I half expected them to ask her for an autograph.

When I came close enough, I could see that she was talking to a blonde young man who looked vaguely familiar. It took a few moments before I remembered where I had seen him before, but when I did, it was easy enough to figure out who he must be. It was without doubt Raoul de Chagny, who had been at the college on the day of our arrival, and whom Christine had been looking at in the cafeteria. His blue eyes and fragile face were now full of emotion, and I could hear him speaking:

"Christine! Of course I remember you! Those summers in Sweden... how could I forget?"

"Raoul!" Christine said, smiling. "How tall you have become! The last time we met, we were almost the same height. Otherwise, you haven't changed much."

"But you!" Raoul exclaimed. "You have become quite a star! I had no idea you could sing like that. I only knew you were a voice major... I saw you here a few months ago, you know, when I accompanied my father to discuss this scholarship with the management of the college. I don't think you saw me, though."

Christine blushed.

"I did", she said. "I just didn't want to disturb you, in case you..."

"Disturb?" Raoul laughed. "Oh well, we've finally met now, anyway. And I insist you must come to dinner with me, to celebrate your triumph tonight!"

Christine's smile faded.

"I can't", she said with regret in her voice. "I have a lesson."

"A lesson? Now?"

Raoul looked taken aback, but Christine was obviously serious. He sighed and said that he would see her again soon, and took his leave. I could finally go to Christine and congratulate her.

After I had spoken to Christine, I lingered for a while outside the concert hall, waiting to see where she was going. There was only one person I could think of who would give lessons at this hour.