Chapter 20: Marguerite
Christine
"Concentrate, Christine. You are flat."
I sighed impatiently. The Angel of Music had been making me sing all kinds of scale variations for the past hour, at the very least. I was bored with this and wanted to sing "real" music. He was pushing me to sing higher than I had ever attempted to sing before that lesson.
As the invisible piano played – for I had never discovered where the music came from that always accompanied me – I sang along, hitting each note perfectly... except for that last dreadful high note.
On that note, my reluctant voice cracked.
I blushed, expecting a sharp reprimand from the Angel of Music. I winced and braced myself.
He surprised me by saying nothing.
"I'm sorry," I apologized, wondering at his lack of response to my failure. "Can I take a break, please?"
"Of course," he answered calmly.
I sat on a stool that was just past the center of the stage. Once again, I tried to see if anyone was in the balcony, but as usual, the brightness of the spotlight prevented me from seeing past the first row.
"Does your throat hurt?" my angel asked in a kind but worried voice.
"No," I replied. I was relieved that my failure to reach the high note hadn't upset him. He seemed to understand that I was trying my hardest to please him.
I could never predict the Angel of Music's reactions to my inability to fulfill each and every one of his wishes. Really, I couldn't predict him in any situation. Sometimes, he would go into such a rage that he would bring tears to my eyes. Though this rarely happened anymore, he would always beg me to forgive him whenever he did lose his temper.
Sometimes, he would show his displeasure by growing cold and cynical. He would laugh in that horrible, mocking way. When he acted that way, either I would blush and duck my head, or I would become angry and sarcastic. When this happened, both of us would have to apologize after our tempers had subsided.
Yet, most often, he was gentle and didn't become angry at all. He would encourage me to try again, praising me once I finally succeeded. Oh, he would still criticize, but only in a constructive way.
So, since his mood wasn't unpleasant, I asked him, "Why am I still singing scales? I don't think I've sung them so much since the very first of my music lessons. They are becoming tedious."
"I am making you expand your vocal range, Christine."
I frowned. The tone of his voice aroused my suspicions. "This doesn't have anything to do with the auditions for Faust next month, does it?"
"Now, now, Christine. Do not worry about the auditions; just concentrate on your scales," he said smoothly.
My eyes widened with fear. "Angel, I can't audition! I'll never be given a big part, anyway!" With a sickening feeling, I suddenly understood his plan fully. "Please don't tell me that you want me to audition for Marguerite!"
"Calm down, Christine. This is nothing for you to fret over, after all. Yes, I want you to audition for Marguerite. I believe you will be given the part with no competition, so do not worry."
I shook my head frantically.
He sighed and continued, still patient. "Christine, how long have you wanted to be a star performer?"
"Ever since I can remember," I answered reluctantly. He was about to talk me into auditioning, I could feel it. I didn't want to be reasoned with… not on this subject, anyway. Still, he would persuade me nonetheless.
"This is your chance to fulfill your dreams," he continued, excitement creeping into his voice. I groaned. Yep, it was coming. "You have been a part of the background for too long. Your time to stand center-stage has come."
"I'll never be cast as Marguerite," I informed him, still trying to fight against his enthusiasm.
"Why ever not?" He sounded genuinely surprised that I would say make such a statement.
I rolled my eyes. Weren't the reasons obvious? Well, apparently not to the Angel of Music.
"I'm too inexperienced," explained to him. "Besides, the managers will want someone older and famous to play the role of Marguerite. You should know that," I added reproachfully.
"The managers are fools and amateurs," was the Angel's swift and dismissive response.
Now, I was the one who was surprised. His words had implied that he was really saying," Who cares what the managers think? They are imbeciles!" How could he say that? Certainly no one else felt that way towards the theater's new managers, Richard Firmin and André Moncharmin. They had scarcely been running the theater for a year, but they had already made it into one of the most popular theaters in New York through clever publicity and using their business connections to bring in quite a few famous performers to participate into the plays and musicals. Mr. Firmin even had some musical training and had found a brilliant orchestra to be employed by the theater. Better still, the musicians had been undiscovered, so the theater paid no high price for their skills. Only Broadway itself was more productive.
The Angel of Music, however, was unimpressed as I listed each of the accomplishments made by the managers.
"I assure you, Mr. Firmin and Mr. Moncharmin are not as brilliant as they lead people to believe."
"You know this?" I was skeptical.
"Yes, I do. So, believe me when I say that you have excellent odds in your favor of being cast in the role of Marguerite."
I resisted still, though my will was fading. Hurriedly, I retorted, "This is the biggest production that will have ever been performed at the theater, though. Faust is a pretty big deal. What if my voice isn't right to play Marguerite?"
"Christine," he said gently. "Your voice is… exquisite. You have a far more pure and striking voice than any other singer who is employed by this theater. The managers are not deaf – though sometimes I do wonder – and even the most untrained ear would be able to recognize your genius."
"But, Angel… Marguerite is beautiful," I whispered. I looked down at the ground, totally ashamed and heart-broken. My lack of abilities as a singer weren't all that kept me from wanting to audition. Not even my annoyance at being roped-in once more by the Angel of Music was what held me back. If I was honest with myself, my appearance is what really made me so reluctant. This was the basis of most of my insecurities. My skin was uncompromisingly pale, my blue eyes still too large, and I was still small and thin. I continued to stare at the ground. Without a doubt, the Angel of Music would reply with some statement about the unimportance of outward beauty (this was something he pounded into my head over and over again). He would no doubt tell me that I was being very vain and foolish indeed.
For the second time that night, he surprised me.
"You are beautiful, Christine."
A small smile reached my lips. I hadn't expected my angel to say that, of all things! Another lecture on how everything except a good singing voice and cleverness was meaningless would have been expected. Never had I expected to be called beautiful by anybody, least of all the Angel of Music. I had never been called beautiful or even pretty by anyone.
"Really?" I asked hopefully.
"Of course, Christine. I have always thought that you are no less than completely beautiful." Suddenly, he seemed uncomfortable with the subject, for he quickly said in a business-like tone, "Are you ready to sing again?"
"Yes, Angel," I answered. As I stood, I could feel my smile broadening.
"Begin," he instructed. The piano played the scale, and once more, I sang along. This time, though, the high note came out of my throat strong and clear.
I was absolutely ecstatic as I squealed, "Angel, did you hear? I sang it!" I was acting just like a little girl, but I didn't care, I was so excited.
"Very good, Christine," he said approvingly.
I was laughing in my excitement. Between reaching the high note and my Angel saying that I was beautiful, that day had become one of the best days of my life so far.
o0o
Over the next few weeks, the Angel of Music worked me harder than ever. He strengthened my voice and continuously badgered me about good breath control and posture. I was at the theater late at night, and more than once, I fell asleep in class at school from the lack of sleep. Fortunately, Raoul and Meg always saved me by giving me the answers if one of our teachers happened to ask me a question while I was snoozing. Since I sat in the back of my large classrooms, the teachers never found out that I often used class time as nap time.
Despite all of the work involved – or perhaps because of it – I was excited about auditioning. My voice had never been stronger or sounded better, and my Angel constantly told me that I would easily win the part of Marguerite. I believed him, too. After all, I had complete faith in him, and he had never lied to me.
The night before the auditions were to be held, I lay in bed, slightly nervous about what the following day would bring. The Angel insisted that I go to bed early, though I would have felt better if I could have practiced more.
"Angel." I hesitated, knowing that I was supposed to be asleep. "Are you sure that I can do this?"
Sure enough, he answered, "Christine! You are supposed to be sleeping."
"I can't sleep." I raised myself onto my elbow. "I just don't feel ready. What if I forget the lyrics? What if the managers don't like my voice? What if one of the other singers is better than me?" The fears were beginning to make me second-guess my own abilities.
"You will do well, Christine. I have faith in you. Do not worry." His soothing voice calmed my apprehensions, and I yawned. "If I sing to you, will you close your eyes and try to go to sleep?"
"Yes." I settled back into my bed. "Goodnight… and thank you."
As his song began, I closed my eyes. His voice was so beautiful. No other sound could compare to his voice, especially when it was in song. His voice made me forget my fears and anxieties. Certainly, they would return… but not that night. Nothing could touch me while the Angel of Music's voice sang over me. Of that I was completely confident. I was safe with him protecting me.
I didn't have to try to sleep; the Angel of Music's voice wanted me to sleep, and who was I – weak, moral girl that I was – to resist its magic?
A later day, I would hate the power of his voice. I would loathe with everything within me the magic with which it completely enchanted me. Yet, on that night, I willingly yielded to its spell.
o0o
The next afternoon, sat in the back of the theater, hands clasped nervously between my legs. Meg and Raoul were sitting on either side of me. Raoul had offered to go with me to the auditions, and I had begged him to accompany me. I needed all of the support that I could find. I was a nervous wreck, and the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering relentlessly.
The dancer's auditions had been held that morning, so Meg was free to sit with us. She had done an excellent job, of course. She was sure to be given a part. Already, she had made a reputation for herself as one of the best ballerinas in the state of New York. Right now, though, she was determined to give me enough pep-talks to break through my tenseness.
"Relax," Meg instructed for the hundredth time. "Breathe, Christine. Just try to relax. You're going to hyperventilate if you don't breathe right. You'll do fine; don't worry."
"I can't relax," I moaned. An entire multitude of women had come to audition. Marguerite was a very sought-after role. All of the other women were more experienced and lovely than me. The fact that I was the youngest girl auditioning didn't help, either.
What was I doing, expecting – even hoping for – a lead role? Something had to be very wrong with me. Surely one of the other ladies would be given the part, but never an inexperienced seventeen-year old like me. Yes, something was definitely very wrong with me.
The lady who was now in the height of her audition had a particularly wonderful voice. The managers had announced her as La Carlotta, and from all of the excited whispers following the announcement, I could only guess that she was famous. A few of the other girls who were young like me had left the auditorium as Carlotta took the stage. Even more of the women – some of the obviously more experienced ones – had also likewise quietly exited as the soprano sang and impressed all. None of them returned, which only added to my nerves. If I was smart, I would follow their example. I started to rise, but Meg, seeing my intentions, had pulled back down beside her with my sleeve. "No, you don't!" she hissed.
I watched the managers anxiously. I could tell by their smiles that they liked what they were hearing. As her song ended, they were amongst the first to stand and applaud. Carlotta smiled triumphantly. I groaned in despair. I was crazy to even be sitting there. How could I even try to compete with that?
"I don't think she sounded all that great," Raoul remarked causally.
"Are you kidding me?" Astonished, I stared at him like he was crazy. Meg's expression matched mine. Obviously, even she had been impressed, biased though she was.
"She sounded like a dying chicken with Parkinson's Disease," he insisted. That set me off on a fit of giggles, and I was soon joined by Meg. Some of the nerves left me left me, and I silently blessed him. I was so grateful to Raoul. He was capable as anyone of chasing the butterflies away.
As the next singer – though obviously dispirited after hearing Carlotta's performance – began her song, I leaned over to Meg and whispered, "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back." She nodded and I slipped out of the auditorium and into the hallway.
I was washing my hands at the sink when La Carlotta herself entered the bathroom.
My first impression of her as she examined her makeup was that she was remarkably good-looking. Yet, when scrutinized more closely, you could see the barest hint of a double-chin, the slight looseness of her lips, the proud fierceness of her eyes, and the sharp quality of her nose. Her facial appearance was showy and haughty. I felt like a small, timid rabbit in the presence of a great hawk, though I couldn't explain the causes of those feelings.
"You have a lovely voice," I told her shyly. I was hoping that the flattery would ease the atmosphere. I hoped that she would relax and soften her expression by smiling at me.
Instead, she just glanced at me, gave a dismissal up-turning of her nose, and said coolly, "Thank you."
"I suppose you auditioned for Marguerite?" I continued. A foolish question, but I wanted to find some way to be in the good graces of that marvelous soprano.
"Of course," she replied stiffly. Then, "Are you a stage hand?"
Crimson covered my cheeks. "No – no ma'am, I muttered. "I'm auditioning as well."
She smirked, obviously amused. "Well, good look to you," she said, sounding like she really didn't wish that at all for me. Never had that kind phrase sounded so insulting.
After she had sauntered out of the bathroom, tears came to my eyes. She had been so terribly rude. Why had she acted that way towards me? What had I ever done to her to provoke so much animosity?
"Christine…"
I jumped at the sound of the Angel of Music's voice. Then, my cheeks returned to their previous shade of scarlet. Geez, even in the bathroom, seriously? I wasn't even alone then?
That was not a comforting thought.
"Please, do not think that of me, Christine," pleaded my angel. He sounded offended.
"I don't," I said quickly, jumping again. I swore that he could read my mind during times like that… another discomforting thought.
"Angel," I continued timidly. He wasn't going to like what I was about to say. "I don't think I can do this. Coming here was a big mistake."
"Do not be intimidated by Carlotta. Haven't I told you often enough that your voice is incomparable? Your voice is a hundred times better than the screeching of La Carlotta. You have no reason to be afraid."
"But I am afraid," I pleaded. I wasn't only afraid; I was absolutely terrified. The mere thought of having all of those eyes on me – particularly the eyes of la Carlotta – made my knees shake.
The Angel of Music must have sensed a part of this, for he replied kindly, "I know you are afraid. You have a far better chance of becoming Marguerite than any other lady auditioning, though. Your father would be proud of you for auditioning."
My father.
This was what my father had dreamed for me. He had wanted me to perform. The Angel of Music was right; my father would be proud of me for going up onto that stage and auditioning in spite of my fear.
That knowledge made me decide effortlessly.
"You're right," I agreed. "I will audition. I will make my father proud of me by fulfilling his dreams. I will do this."
Once I had said this, peace took over, removing the butterflies from my stomach. I was no longer afraid. Knowing that I would be making my father proud gave me courage. Winning the role of Marguerite was no longer about me. My own fears were folly. Any glory or fame accompanying the role of Marguerite would provide was not important to me. I had never lusted for glory; I was content to be a wallflower. No, when I sang, I wouldn't be singing for myself. I would sing solely for the two to whom I owed absolutely everything: my beloved father and the Angel of Music. I would sing to them from the earth, and they would hear me in heaven. With their support, I was brave enough to do anything.
"I will do this," I repeated.
"That's my girl. Now, go back to the auditorium. Do not be afraid; I will be there. I have faith in you, Christine."
I smiled, encouraged, then left.
As I slid back into my seat, Meg muttered, "You certainly took long enough. What happened? Did you fall in?"
I rolled my eyes as I heard Raoul's smothered laughter beside me.
"No," I said a bit more loudly than necessary for his benefit. "But," I added more softly. "I did meet Carlotta. I promise you, I've never met a bigger snob in my entire life."
Meg raised her eyebrows. "Really?"
I nodded. "She was very rude."
Raoul leaned towards me. "Is everything alright?" he asked, mock worry in his question. I wasn't fooled; I saw his barely-suppressed grin.
I smiled sweetly. "Yes, everything is fine," I said in a reassuring voice.
He smiled back, sincere this time. "Are you nervous?"
"No, I'm not nervous." How could I be nervous with both my father and the Angel of Music watching over me?
"Good. You'll be great," he stated with confidence. "But… maybe, for good luck's sake…" His eyes traveled to my lips, and my heart started beating faster. Not in a pleasurable sense of the term, either. No… my brain thought frantically. The Angel of Music made me promise…
"Christine Daaė?"
I jumped to my feet, relieved. "Yes?"
I could see Mr. Moncharmin's surprise as I stood. However, he quickly recovered and said, "Please come to the stage for your audition, Miss Daaė."
"Good luck!" Meg whispered excitedly. Raoul grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. He hid his disappointment well.
I sensed the viewer's amusement as I made my way to the stage. They must have thought that I was a very deluded child. The whispering I heard all around me affirmed this.
One haughty voice could be clearly heard above all of the others. "How funny!" Carlotta cried, not even bothering to speak in a low voice. "The little girl fancies herself a singer! The poor darling!"
I kept my head held high. Let Carlotta poke fun at me, I thought. I'll show her. I don't care what she thinks.
Mr. Moncharmin, at least, seemed to feel sorry for me. "Everyone, please quiet down!" he requested loudly. Then, he added kindly, "Stand right here, my dear." He pointed out a spot on the stage with his finger. "Do you have a song prepared for us, Miss Daaė?"
"Yes, sir." My voice was clear and brave as I gave my answer. "I am going to sing The Jewel Song."
At this, Carlotta laughed with mirth. Some of the other women that I had seen crowding around her after her performance joined in her laugher. I could see Raoul and Meg tensing as my earlier statement about Carlotta's rudeness proved itself to be true. Mr. Moncharmin frowned at her.
"Very well," he said, still using a kind tone. I decided that he was a very nice man. "Our pianist will accompany you. She will begin when you are ready." He then left the stage to sit beside Mr. Firmin.
The music started. I took a deep breath. I have faith in you, Christine. The Angel of Music's words echoed in my head. Those words chased away the last of the shadows of fear, and a smile was on my face as I started to sing.
I sang for my father, for my angel. I smiled the entire time. I pictured my father out in the audience, his smile matching mine as he listened.
When my song was finished, there followed a complete, shocked silence.
Then, everyone applauded.
I grinned as I recognized Raoul and Meg cheering. They had started the clapping, and they were certainly cheering the loudest. I saw Raoul's smile grow as our eyes made contact and he winked.
I looked at the managers. Mr. Firmin wore a look of complete shock. Mr. Moncharmin had a huge smile on his face. He was among the loudest ones clapping for me.
I then looked at Carlotta.
Though she was clapping, I could tell that she was only doing so to save her face. The glare that she was giving me revealed her true thoughts.
Somehow, that glare made me feel even better about my performance.
"Well done, Miss Daaė!" My attention directed itself towards Mr. Moncharmin, who was grinning from ear to ear. "We will have the results of the casting posted on the auditorium doors tomorrow afternoon promptly at 4:00 p.m." Then, as I exited the stage, he added, "Thank you."
Meg greeted me with a big hug. "Wow, you sounded great!" she gushed enthusiastically.
Raoul hugged me also. "You were great," he agreed.
I was still grinning. "Thanks, guys."
Raoul answered my grin with one of his own, then leaned closer and whispered, "Maybe next time, right?"
I felt my smile start to fade but forced it to stay in place as I replied weakly, "Yeah, maybe next time."
At that moment, I was awfully glad that the Angel of Music was in heaven and couldn't hear us.
"Christine," my angel said to me that night. "You sang so beautifully today. I am very proud of you."
I blushed from his words. Not only did his generous compliment flatter me, but I was also feeling guilty about Raoul's statement and obvious intentions. "Thank you," I murmured shyly.
"Raoul de Chagny… I fear that he will soon try to take liberties with you, Christine." The Angel of Music's voice had become hard and untrusting, so different from the way it had sounded only moments ago.
"I will not allow him to take any liberties," I assured him. However, a small part of my mind sneered at that. Are you sure, Christine? If Raoul tries to kiss you again, will you push him away from you, or will you let it happen?
"You are certain of this?" The angel seconded my doubts.
I silenced the voice in my head as I asked him quietly, "I did promise you, didn't I?"
He sighed. "Yes, you did. I am sorry, Christine."
"It's okay," I said softly.
The angel returned to the earlier subject. "You have never sung more wonderfully. You have certainly captured the managers' attention. Surely they will be begging you to play Marguerite tomorrow."
I smiled. "That's a bit of a stretch, but we'll see," I yawned.
With that being said, I went to sleep, humming the music from Faust as itfilled my mind.
o0o
Marguerite: La Carlotta Gudicelli
Marguerite (understudy): Christine Daaė
I stared at the casting list in disbelief. There had to be some kind of mistake. I had been so certain…
The large cluster of congratulators around Carlotta confirmed that no mistake had been made. She stood in the center of the crowd, haughty and proud as ever. Her eyes met mine, and she cried, "But, we must not forget to congratulate Miss Christine Daaė!"
My cheeks burned with humiliation as people came to congratulate me. I could only stare at the ground. Carlotta seemed to take a great deal of joy in my scarlet cheeks, for the harsh, grating sound of her laughter reached my ears. "Why, the little dear is bashful!" she exclaimed.
I hid my face in my hands, absolutely mortified. I couldn't escape when so much attention was on me. With dismay, I realized that Carlotta was intentionally trapping me. This was her cruel way for paying me back for the auditions the day before, even though I had done absolutely nothing except sing well. I could tell that she wasn't intending to have any compassion on me; rather, she was enjoying my unfortunate situation. Oh, how I wished I could disappear!
Suddenly, a piercing siren filled the air. People started screaming, Carlotta loudest of all. The managers were yelling, "Everyone, please exit the building calmly!"
Their words were of no avail, for no one was calm as they rushed to leave the crowded hallway. Carlotta was pushing people out of her way, still screaming. In any other situation, I would have been amused. As matters stood, I was confused. If a fire was in the building, why didn't I smell smoke? Someone must either have pulled the fire alarm by accident or someone was playing a very elaborate joke on everyone and was laughing at all of them as they panicked.
As the people all ran past me all in a panic, a flash of understanding hit me: someone had pulled the fire alarm on purpose! Someone had pulled it knowing that everyone would all go outside to escape a fire…
I ran as fast as I could, silently thanking the Angel of Music.
o0o
"This is an insult! Those managers have insulted both of us!" fumed my angel a good many hours later.
I was sitting on my bed silently listening to him. I sighed wearily. Out of gratitude for his diversion in the theater earlier that had allowed me to escape the scene of embarrassment and of my respect for him, I had patiently let him continue his venting for a long time now. I yawned. At the moment, I didn't care whether or not the managers had done us a great insult by not assigning me to play the role of Marguerite. I was so tired and just wanted to sleep.
"Please… I'm very tired," was all I could say quietly. I was behind on sleep from practicing for the auditions so late every night… and the knowledge that my loss of sleep was pointless made me feel even more exhausted.
He calmed down at once upon hearing my weariness. "Of course," he said gently. "Goodnight. And, Christine… do not worry. I will fix all of this."
I was too far gone to feel anything but relief as I crawled under my covers. My tired brain was way too close to slumber to wonder how exactly he was planning to "fix all of this." I most likely should have asked him, but at that moment, I was just too tired to care.