Chapter 35- Marguerite's Aria
A/N: Okay. . . we're time-jumping here. It's been about 4 weeks since Erik rescued Meg from the streets. . . the opera house is nearly done being restored, but casting has not yet begun.
another note: Meg's song in this chapter is from the opera Faust. it's Marguerite's aria 'Ah! je ris de voir'. some of the translation is given in the chapter, but I'll post the whole thing at the bottom too. I also use an aria from Don Giovanni (by Mozart), which is written in Italian, but I'm just going to write the translated words, k?
also: the site aria database is a PHENOMONAL resource, so credit for the translations goes to them!
well, read and review and tell me what you think!
Another morning came where Meg woke to find that Erik had already left. With a downcasted sigh, she made her way back to the spare room, where she slipped into her pointe shoes. She began her stretches with pliés in all five positions, holding herself tightly in each until her legs shook from effort. After stretching, she let herself begin some old routines that she remembered. In her mind, she could hear the orchestra playing as she twirled around, not even having to think about the steps that she executed flawlessly. When she finally stopped, she was out of breath, and sweating slightly. Brushing the hair out of her face, she fell to her knees on the cold stone floor, letting her mind wander. She found herself humming a song from one of the operas. . . one that she had learned when she had been younger.
Looking around self-consciously, Meg began to sing softly,
"Ah! je ris de me voir
si belle en ce miroir,
mirror,
Ah! je ris de me voir
si belle en ce miroir,
miroir,
Est-ce toi, Marguerite, est-ce toi?
Réponds-moi, réponds-moi,
réponds, réponds, réponds vite!"
Meg rose to her feet, letting her voice intensify, losing its timid edge.
"Non! Non! ce n'est plus toi!
Non. . . non, ce n'est plus ton visage;
C'est la fille d'un roi;
Ce n'est plus toi. . .
Qu'on salut au passage!"
Completely lost in the song, Meg didn't notice the presence in the doorway. . .
"Ah s'il était ici!
S'il me voyait ainsi!
Comme une demoisells
Il me trouverait belle
Ah, ah!" Meg's voice trilled perfectly over the notes, her soprano voice taking wing like a songbird to the sky.
She thought about what the words meant. . .
Ah, if only he were here!
If he should see me thus. . .
Like a lady
He would find me so beautiful. . .
Subconsciously, she found herself thinking of Erik. . .
"Comme une demoiselle,
Il me trouverait belle!
Achevons la metamorphose,
Il me tarde encor d'essayer
Le bracelet it le collier!
Dieu! c'est comme une main,
Qui sur mon bras se pose! Ah! Ah! Ah!" Meg took a deep breath to finish the song.
"Ah! je ris
de me voir si belle dans ce miroir!"
The last note died off slowly, echoing off the walls.
"And I was under the impression that you didn't sing opera," she heard a silky voice say. Meg froze.
Her heart stopped for a moment, then began beating at a pace so rapid that she knew that the workers above them could probably hear its rythmic pulsing.
"And I was under the impression that you were out for the morning," she allowed herself to retort cooly.
He shrugged. "I came back. What- you don't want another soul on this earth to hear you sing?"
Meg remained silent.
"You know," said Erik thoughtfully, "perhaps instead of a dancer. . . perhaps I should secure you a more. . . vocal part. You could be great, you know. . ."
"No!" said Meg sharply. "I- I won't be Christine, Erik."
Pushing past him, Meg left the room.
He heard her go into her room and slam the door. He swore at himself under his breath. That hadn't been his intent. . . he thought angrily. Meg's voice really was beautiful- granted not as good as Christine's had been- and he had been captivated by her song. She had entranced him, made him listen as though she were singing right to him.
If only he were here
If he should see me thus
Like a lady
He would find me so beautiful
Like a lady
He would find me beautiful. . .
Erik sighed. He had to lure Meg out of her room, but words alone wouldn't be enough. An idea came to his mind. . .
A short while later, Meg heard music. She opened her door to the sound of organ. Meg paused outside her door. Should she go? Her mind cautioned her, but then she heard Erik begin to sing, and obeying her mind became the last thing on earth she wanted to do.
His words called to her, beckoned her to him.
"Oh come to the window, beloved;
Oh come and dispel all my sorrow. . ."
Meg began down the hall, toward the sound that was so pure and seductive that she was sure no mortal on the planet could resist. . .
"If you refuse me some solace,
before your dear eyes I will die. . ."
Meg had come to the end of the hall, and the voice wrapped around her and pulled her inside. She saw Erik sitting at the organ, absorbed in the song.
"Your lips are sweeter than honey,
Your heart is sweetness itself. . ."
Erik's head turned toward Meg suddenly- his blazing green eyes held hers as his voice softened to sing the last lines.
"Then be not cruel, my angel,
I beg for one glance, my beloved. . ."
The song ebbed off into a tremendous silence which filled the cave like a ghostly presence that made Meg's heart tremble.
Erik's eyes were still boring into hers.
"Stop," she said.
"Stop
what?"
"Stop looking at me like that," she said.
Erik stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. "Why?" he asked, standing very close to her.
"Because I. . . . .. because you-" Meg stumbled, unable to say what she was thinking. She wasn't even sure what she was thinking.
Because you're going to make me lose my mind? she thought. Because you are testing my willpower with those damnable eyes of yours? Because at any moment, I just might drown in the sea of your voice? Choose a reason, Erik- there are hundreds!
Erik's bare hand reached up to rest on Meg's cheek.
Her knees went weak beneath her- she was going to melt right into the floor, she thought. There was a warm, tingling sensation passing through her body; something that made her feel. . . every emotion that was possible to feel.
"What, Meg?" Erik asked, voice low and smooth, as though he were trying to coax the truth from her. "You feel something. . . I know you do. You told me not to ask you. . . but I've waited, Meg. It's been weeks since you came back, and every day your words have tormented my mind with questions. I want the truth, Meg- nothing more."
The truth.
The words rang in her ears.
"The truth. . ." she repeated softly. "The truth. . . is what I have been trying to deny to myself for a long time now," she said. "I- I love you, Erik," she admitted in a whisper, dropping her eyes, not wanting to look at him. How would he react? she wondered immediately after the words left her lips. She felt him turn her chin up so that eye contact was unavoidable. Trembling with fear and apprehension, Meg let their eyes meet. Erik's look was the most loving, selfless expression she had seen in all her life.
He was looking at her as though she were a priceless jewel, worth more than the world to him.
"Say it again," he whispered.
"I love you, Erik," Meg repeated, looking straight into his eyes.
He took her face gently in his hands. "And I love you, Marguerite Giry," he whispered, before leaning down to kiss her.
"Wait," Meg said, before his lips touched hers. She reached up to untie his mask.
She felt him make to jerk away, but grabbed him by the arm. "Trust me," she said, though she waited for his signal to proceed. His green eyes seemed to surrender to her, and he nodded shortly. Her trembling fingers undid the black silk ribbon, and the mask fell away, hitting the floor with a deft noise. Erik winced as she touched his marred flesh.
"I'm sorry," said Meg, drawing her hand back. "Did that. . . did that hurt?"
He shook his head. "No. It's just that no one ever. . ."
"I know," she said. She kissed his scarred cheek lovingly, before claiming his lips in the kiss that both of them had been waiting an eternity for. . .
A/N: well, like it or hate it, people- i want to know! so review for me!
Translation of Magruerite's Aria:
Ah, I laugh to see myself so beautiful in this mirror
Ah, I laught to see myself so beautiful in this mirror,
Is it you, Marguerite, it is you?
Answer me, answer me,
Respond, respond, respond quickly!
No, No! It's no longer you!
No... no, it's no longer your face;
It's the daughter of a kind,
It's no longer you. . .
One must bow to her as she passes!
Ah, if only he were here!
If he should see me thus
Like a lady
He would find me so beautiful,
Like a lady he would find me beautiful!
Lets complete the metamorphosis,
I am late yet in trying on
The bracelet and the necklace!
God! it's like a hand
Which is placed on my arm!
Ah, I laugh to see myself so beautiful in this mirror!