2. He used to complain about his parents (he doesn't complain anymore).
Some of Odd's earliest memories are of his father wandering through the house singing Italian opera, his voice bouncing off of the ceilings. His songs changed, depending on his mood or what was going on in the house. His father took to singing La donna è mobile anytime his sisters began to fight or his mother was upset. Needless to say, he has a lot of memories of that particular aria. When his father was in a good mood he'd sing Libiamo ne'lieti calici at the dinner table, grinning as his mother laughed at his antics.
This afternoon, it is firmly in the La donna è mobile aria. Odd can hear his father's warm, bright voice through the closed front door and he pauses, hand resting on the latch while Jan chatters away at his side. He tilts his head, listening for the sounds of fighting. He can't hear anything aside from his father's voice.
Jan seems to notice something's up because he stops talking as well. "What is that?" he asks, mimicking Odd's head tilt.
Odd shrugs. "My father," he replies. Hesitantly, he pushes the door open and pokes his head in.
"La donna è mobil'.
Qual piuma al vento,
muta d'accento
e di pensier'!"
His father looks up as Odd enters the house, Jan trailing behind him, but he holds the note. "Mamma or the harpies?"
"Don't call your sisters that," his father replies, smiling. "Your mother and Elisabeth are fighting."
Odd cants his head. The house is ominously silent now that his father has stopped singing.
"I don't hear anything," Jan states.
"Exactly." His father looks over at Jan and winks at him. "I have lulled them into a truce."
Odd raises his eyebrows incredulously. He slips his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "Uh huh, right, Pappa." He jerks his chin toward the other boy. "This is Jan. We've got a history project." He stares meaningfully at his father but his father simply stares innocently back at him. "Think we can make it to my room before Elisabeth starts throwing things?"
"Throwing things?" Jan asks, looking startled. He'd wandered over to the bookcase and was in the process of examining his mother's snow globe collection, however now he looks up with wide eyes. Odd tells himself they only look big because of the magnification effect of Jan's glasses.
"You'll see," his father laughs. "I'll see if I can distract her." And then he picks up where he left off .
Odd shakes his head, climbing the stairs. "Come on, Jan," he calls. He ignores the way Jan scurries after him, shooting bewildered and anxious looks at him as they climb the stairs to his small attic bedroom. Odd's stopped trying to explain his family's idiosyncrasies years ago.
. . … . .
"What about your winter coat?" his mother asks. "Does it still fit?" Odd shrugs and his mother sighs, tossing the coat over his head. "Try it on and see. Really, Odd, you've had all summer to pack and haven't lifted a finger."
"I don't know why I'm being sent away," Odd protests. "Lisa's the one who broke the new vase you were making."
His mother heaves another sigh and brushes loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. "We aren't talking about Elisabeth's indiscretions now."
"No, only I'm the one getting exiled."
"Don't be dramatic, Odd. Come on now, does the coat fit or do we have to try and find a new one?" She rummages through his closet, frowning. "Odd!"
"Yeah, yeah." He pulls his coat on and rolls his shoulders, windmills his arms a bit. "Seems alright. A little tight."
"Maybe it'll be better for you to purchase one in France…I'm sure you won't need such a heavy coat down south."
"Mamma, this is ridiculous, why am I being sent away?" He kicks at the half-filled suitcases his mother's dragged into his room from the storage area next door. "And why France?"
His mother turns, an armful of shirts in her hands. Her blue-gray eyes soften and she sets his clothes on the dresser. "This will be good for you, Odd. You're already going into secondary, and this will get you out from beneath your sisters. Besides, you have always been creative and Kadic has a very good art program."
"I can paint on my own."
He looks away as she cups his face in her hands. "Odd, look at me." He sighs and meets her gaze. She's slightly stooped so she can meet his gaze straight-on. "I love you very much, and I need to do what is best for you. This school will challenge you, keep you out of mischief, allow you to grow. It is a good opportunity."
Odd rolls his eyes and flops back on his bed. "Yeah," he agrees, staring up at the rafters overhead. He listens as his mother resumes packing.
/
"Odd Della Robbia," his father says as soon as he answers the phone. It's his serious voice. The one he'd used when Elisabeth got in trouble for locking him outside three winters ago. "Did you take Kiwi with you?"
"Huh? Sorry, Pappa, can't hear you. They're calling my flight!"
"Odd!"
/
"So, what'd you do to get sent here?" Odd questions. He pauses in tossing his sock collection into his drawer and glances over at his roommate. The other boy is laying on his back, and Odd catches the quick dart of his eyes as he looks away and back at the ceiling. He's tacked up some type of football posters on the ceiling and Odd doesn't understand it, but he doesn't think they're at the point to ask about it. "Huh? Hello, Earth to Jock, come in."
Ulrich rolls his eyes and sits up. "What?" he asks.
"You, here, why?"
"Cruel twist of fate," Ulrich guesses, shrugging. Odd throws a balled up pair of socks at the other boy. Kiwi gives an excited bark, chasing the projectile and Ulrich tosses the makeshift ball at the dog. "I chose to come here. You?"
Odd shrugs. "My parents decided to play favorites and ship me off for a harmless prank." He glances at his roommate again, taking in the way Ulrich is halfheartedly throwing the sock ball for Kiwi. "You chose to come here? Really?"
"Yeah."
Odd huffs a sigh. "My parents are complete weirdos, and my sisters are lunatics, but I don't think I'd choose to move to another country to get away from them." He raises his eyebrows, waiting to see if Ulrich will take the opening. He doesn't. "Well, nice chat," he says finally.
/
"Your father and I have been talking," his mother says over the phone.
"Oh?" Odd asks. It's never been a good thing when his parents talk. It's usually up there with the looks they share. He knows they do it to silently talk about him or his sisters. "What about?"
"We know it's only been a month, but well…the house is quiet. What would you say about coming home? We can enroll you in a local school."
Odd rolls his eyes and pries Ulrich's jersey out of Kiwi's mouth. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm good here."
His mother is silent for a moment. "You don't want to come home?"
"Well, yeah, 'course I do. I'll see you for break, like we planned." Kiwi stares up at him with large, baleful brown eyes and Odd sighs. He fishes a treat out of his bedside drawer and tosses it to the little dog. "But, I like it here. It's cool."
"School is…cool?" his mother repeats.
Odd shrugs, not sure what exactly to tell her. "Well, I mean, most of its lame. And the student body's a little to studious, but I dunno, I'm making friends. It's fun." He pauses. "Isn't that what you wanted? You said it was an opportunity."
"Yes," his mother agrees, "but don't you miss us?"
Odd hesitates. He misses his parents, he misses Marie and Elisabeth, and maybe Louise. He misses his own bedroom. But he's done so much already here at Kadic. Things he never would've been able to do back home.
"Yeah," he replies after a moment. "But I'm not a little kid anymore, Mamma. I want to stay."
Ulrich enters the room shortly after he hangs up the phone. He takes a look at his slobbered-up jersey and sighs loudly. Odd ignores him, still staring at the phone in his hand. He feels a sudden pang of homesickness. It's not just the homesickness though, it's the realization that he hadn't felt upset, hadn't really even thought of home, until his mother had called. He'd been so focused on school and art and Lyoko and video games…
"What's wrong?" Ulrich asks.
Odd glances up, smiles brightly and shrugs. "Call from home," he replies. "Trying to guilt trip me into going back."
Ulrich frowns. "Wasn't it your parents who sent you here as punishment?"
Odd laughs and shakes his head. "Parents, right?" he asks. He pushes himself up and fishes Kiwi's leash from the bedside drawer. "I'm taking Kiwi for a walk into town, want to come?"
Ulrich studies him for a moment before he nods. "Yeah, alright."
. . … . .
He's been to Yumi's house countless times before, whether for study sessions or movie nights or taste-testings (his favorite by far). Her brother's a bit of a pest, but the kid's still cool. He likes video games and pranks and Odd enjoys showing him some of the ropes. Sometimes he wonders what it would've been like if he'd had a little brother growing up, but he usually squashes that thought pretty quickly. He has enough siblings, and anyway, with his luck, he'd probably end up with another sister.
Still, there's a difference between visiting Yumi's house as his usual charming self and visiting Yumi's house as, well, Yumi.
/
"It's just a glitch," Jeremie states. He stares at them pleadingly and Odd can't help but notice the way the angle of his glasses make his eyes look big and guileless. It's an interesting effect and Odd wonders momentarily if he could pull it off the next time Delmas pulls him into his office. "I'm sure I'll have a solution tomorrow morning."
Yumi crosses her arms over her chest and looks up at Jeremie. That in itself is weird though, because it's Yumi, but not-Yumi. Yumi-in-his-body. But it isn't his face, not really. Odd knows that he doesn't scowl like that, that is 100% a Yumi glower. "What are we supposed to do until then?" she demands. And that's his mouth moving and Yumi's voice coming out of it. Odd feels a headache coming on.
Jeremie pushes his glasses up and shifts from one foot to the other. He looks like a toddler caught with his hand in the cookie jar before supper. Odd has to stifle the absurd impulse to laugh. He catches Ulrich staring at him and flashes a bright smile and thumbs up. Everything's totally cool. Jeremie will have a plan.
"Act normal?" Jeremie suggests, voice weakly hopeful.
Or not, Odd thinks with a mental eye roll. Of course the genius caves under pressure. "Uh, Einstein?" he asks. "How're we supposed to act normal like this?" He gestures to Yumi's body, which he's currently inhabiting. Brilliant. Though, the height advantage is pretty cool. He could get used to being taller.
Jeremie shrugs. "I don't know, it's just for a night, right? Just go to sleep early."
"Jeremie," Yumi whines, "I live with my parents. How do you think they'll react to…" She waves a hand in his direction and Odd frowns at her, affronted. He can totally act like her, just stare at Ulrich, tease her brother, and okay, maybe he can't bake but whatever.
Jeremie shrugs helplessly. "I don't know, Yumi. You guys need to figure that out, I have a long night ahead."
Aelita looks up from where she's been fidgeting with the sleeves on her sweater. "I'll help you," she tells Jeremie. He looks unsure and she places a hand on his shoulder. "Two heads are better than one, right?"
"Right," he replies, voice steadier and smile a bit too love-struck for Odd's comfort.
"Come on, guys," Ulrich coaxes. He looks between Yumi and Odd before turning to the exit. "The sooner we leave Jeremie and Aelita alone the sooner he can figure out how to switch you two back."
"Yeah, right," Odd replies, "as long as they don't get distracted." He catches Aelita's blush as she ducks her head and he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. And woah, well, that's an interesting experience. He has a feeling it's going to be a long night.
/
Odd is passable with chopsticks, usually. Certainly not great, but he can pick up a sushi roll just fine. However, the tension at the table is thick enough that he could cut it with a knife. He drops his food more times than he cares to count. Yumi's parents stare at him each time, stare more openly when he pulls out his little green case with his emergency fork. He's hungry and they're already suspicious, so he doesn't see the big deal.
"Really good, uh, Mom," he says. He hopes the sushi he's stuffed into his mouth covers the awkward pause.
Yumi's mother is still staring at him. "I'm glad you like it, Yumi," she says finally.
Odd nods enthusiastically, swallows his mouthful, and then shovels two more sushi pieces into his mouth. "Mm, so good. Can I be excused? I have math homework," he adds. He doesn't wait for permission, grabbing his plate and hightailing it to the kitchen.
"What's wrong with her?" Yumi's father questions.
"Takeo," her mother admonishes.
"Don't mind Yumi," Hiroki replies, voice eerily cheerful. "She's in love."
He can hear her father choke and splutter as he crosses quickly back to the stairs and hurries up to Yumi's room. He imagines Yumi probably would've denied it or pummeled her brother or something, but honestly, he's grateful for the excuse.
He does attempt to do some homework, and he does refrain from snooping too much through Yumi's belongings. Yumi is his friend, for better or worse, and he respects her. He still rifles through her closet to discover something other than black, and lets his eyes scan the photos she has up in her room. Some Japanese kids he doesn't recognize, he isn't sure if they're cousins or friends from her time in Japan, some of her and the girl Shannon who's in her year, and a few of him, Jeremie, and Ulrich. He can't help but smirk at the cut-outs from the Kadic Chronicle detailing Ulrich's football achievements. Just friends his right foot.
It isn't until he's lying in bed, already having texted Yumi a thoughtful goodnight message, that he hears the yelling. He sits up, brushing Yumi's dark hair out of his face, and tilts his head to the side. He can hear her parents from all the way downstairs, even if he doesn't understand the muffled Japanese. Ten minutes into the argument of the century and he hears a soft tapping against the wall between Yumi's room and Hiroki's. He frowns, tapping back.
The bedroom door opens a few minutes later and Hiroki is briefly silhouetted by the hallway light, the angry voices momentarily clearer, before Hiroki shuts the door behind him. He crosses Yumi's room and crawls into her bed, shoving at Odd until he's balanced almost on the edge of her bed.
"Hey!" Odd protests.
"I knew they were angry at dinner," Hiroki murmurs. He has Yumi's blanket pulled up under his chin and is curled up on his side. Odd feels a pang in his side at the sight. The kid looks really young. "Do you know what they're fighting about this time?"
Odd hesitates, not sure how to react. After a moment he reaches over to squeeze the kid's shoulder. "No, not this time," he says finally, honestly.
Hiroki nods, sighs loudly. "Goodnight, Yumi," he mumbles. He snuggles into Odd's side and Odd stares down at the boy's dark hair.
"Hey! Don't drool on me!"
The boy is already dead to the world, breathing deep and even. Odd settles in, listening as the yelling continues. There's the sound of something, probably a dish, breaking. After an hour a door slams and the house falls into a deceptive silence. Odd lets himself doze, but he doesn't get to sleep again, not really.
/
"What?" Yumi asks, once they've switched back. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Nothing," Odd replies, shrugging. He slides his hands into his pockets, rocks back and forth from heel to toe. "Hey, be nice to the kid, okay?"
Yumi frowns at him and it's such a Yumi expression that he can't help but grin. It looks much better on her face than his own. "Why?"
"He covered for me last night," he says after a moment. "It's harder being you than I thought it'd be, and the kid did a good job of making it normal. Give him a break, yeah?"
Yumi gives him another curious look. "Yeah, alright."
He studies her quietly, remembers Hiroki's question from late last night: Do you know what they're fighting about this time? The this time had echoed in his mind long after the kid went to sleep. Yumi raises her eyebrows at him questioningly, shifts self-consciously under his scrutiny. Her arms cross over her chest and he wonders if she even realizes the defensive vibe she's giving off.
He shakes his head, grins at her. "I still can't believe you had those clothes hidden in the back of your closet!"
Yumi groans loudly and he lets his grin widen.
. . … . .
Odd and Ulrich spend the three hour train ride from Paris to Cologne eating breakfast and dozing in the upholstered seats. The twenty minute exchange at Cologne Central Station is a bit of a hurry and Odd keeps close to Ulrich since his German is still fairly basic. He's glad he'd left Kiwi with Aelita to watch, even if he had been hesitant at first. But Aelita's responsible, and Ulrich had said his mother had dogs. Kiwi's never been the biggest fan of other dogs.
The last thirty minutes from Cologne to Bonn Odd occupies himself with grilling Ulrich about his family. He doesn't know much about the Sterns, even though he's been friends and roommates with Ulrich for a year now. He knows Ulrich doesn't get along with his father for some reason and he likes his grandmother, but that's about it. Sometimes Odd thinks Ulrich has a future career as an international spy, no one would be able to crack him if he didn't want to spill.
They disembark in Bonn, Odd hauling his duffle over his shoulder and Ulrich wheeling a small suitcase. That's another thing Odd doesn't quite get. Ulrich goes home reasonably often, he doesn't know why he'd need to bring anything with him.
"Herr Stern! Ulrich!"
Ulrich changes direction, heading toward an older man with graying hair and a dark suit. Odd tilts his head, taking in the man. "Your father?" he asks skeptically.
Ulrich shakes his head. "His driver. My father will still be at work." He smiles as they reach the old man. "Hallo Klaus, wie geht es dir?"
"Sehr gut, Herr. Dankeschön. Wie war deine Reise?"
Odd tries to follow the conversation and Ulrich must notice him struggling because he switches suddenly to English. "It was long," he states, "and boring. This is Odd Della Robbia. Odd, this is Klaus."
"Herr Della Robbia, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. It is not often Ulrich brings friends over." Klaus reaches to take Ulrich's bag, but Ulrich waves him away. "Come along, I am sure you are eager to be home."
Ulrich shrugs, but follows Klaus outside to the car. Odd falls into step next to him, noting the tense line to Ulrich's shoulders. "Well," he says conversationally, "I knew you were well off, but not enough to have your own driver."
"He's my father's," Ulrich replies automatically. His mouth twists a little like he's suppressing a smirk. "I'm not around enough to warrant my own."
"Pity," Odd says, nodding. He's already mentally reevaluating all his prior thoughts about Ulrich's family.
/
He spends the two week All Saints holiday break in Germany with Ulrich. He gets to meet the housekeeper, Heidi, who he takes a liking to immediately, and Ulrich's actual family. He remembers Ulrich's parents from their one visit to Kadic, and he's a bit surprised to finally meet Annie. She and Ulrich are as opposite as twins can possibly be, he imagines. But still, he isn't sure what to make of it though.
Ulrich's father is painfully polite and in turn so is Ulrich. The two exist on a diet of polite small talk and obligatory inquiries into the other's endeavors, be it school or whatever Ulrich's father does for a living. He hasn't been told and, truthfully, he's a little intimidated to ask. On the other hand, Ulrich's mother is almost a phantom. She passes through airily, stops to chat and inquire after Ulrich's interests, scold Annie for slouching, and then disappears upstairs again. Annie reminds him of a combination of Louise and Adele and it leaves his mind reeling for half his visit. He can never tell if the twins genuinely like each other or not.
They're a sharp contrast to his own family where his parents demand to know every detail of his and his sisters' lives. Where the dinner table is loud and boisterous and food gets flung on more than one occasion. Where he and his sisters scream at each other and then sit down to watch a movie. Or, where his father walks around singing Italian opera and his mother is covered in clay and ceramic glazes. If he were to compare the two, he'd say his house felt more like the artist's studio while Ulrich's reminded him of the museum the artwork gets displayed in.
/
"Charlie!" Mrs. Stern calls. Odd looks up from where he's eating thick waffles drizzled in honey. Ulrich winces across the table from him. "Charlie, come here!"
"I'll be back," Ulrich states. He gets up and disappears from the kitchen.
Odd is confused and he glances at the housekeeper and Annie questioningly. "Who's Charlie?" he asks after a moment. He wonders if it's one of the dogs.
"Ulrich," Annie replies. She stuffs another waffle in her mouth and Odd takes a moment to appreciate the girl's appetite. It could almost rival his own.
"Ulrich's first name is Charles," Heidi adds from where she's washing the pans in the sink. "He switched to his middle name years ago."
Annie rolls her eyes, swallows her mouthful of waffle. "Still a stupid idea to me," she states. "Ulrich was named after Papa but he's always wanted to put as much space between him and Papa. It's why he went to France."
/
"Why do you come home if you hate it so much?" Odd asks, late their last night in Bonn. Ulrich had spent the night after supper in his father's study with the door closed. Odd had made several surreptitious trips past the door, listening for…he wasn't sure what. Raised voices? Cries of pain? The sound of hitting? He hadn't heard any of that, just the soft, steady murmur of voices thick with the German burr. "I don't get it."
Ulrich shifts on the inflatable mattress on the floor. Odd twists onto his side to watch his roommate curiously. "I don't hate it," Ulrich says after a moment.
"Try again, with more believability."
"I'm serious. I don't hate it." He shrugs. "I guess I hope that one time I'll come home and my father will actually be able to be proud of something I did."
Odd frowns at him in the half-light spilling through the open curtains. "You have plenty to be proud of."
Ulrich huffs a laugh. It's dry, but a bitter dry, not the wry, sarcastic dry that Odd's become accustomed to. "Nothing I can tell him about," he says.
Odd rolls over onto his back again, stares up at the football player and movie posters tacked to the ceiling. He's known Ulrich for a year and he still doesn't understand this particular quirk. "Whatever," he says finally. "But next time you're coming home with me instead of visiting Adolf."
"Odd."
"No arguing. You can get to experience my crazy family. I know you won't pass that up."
Ulrich is quiet for a long time. Long enough for Odd to begin to relax, breathing in the lingering scent of detergent and Ulrich's shampoo or deodorant or whatever it is. "Yeah, alright," he agrees. Odd grins triumphantly to himself.
. . … . .
"Che gelida manina,
se la lasci riscaldar."
Odd looks up at his father's voice and rolls his eyes as he sees his father leaning over, clasping his mother's hands in his. His mother is smiling up at his father, her blue-gray eyes are bright and her face is flushed. Odd rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his sketch.
"Ugh," Louise complains. "Honestly, can you not?"
"If it bothers you, you're welcome to go to bed, Louise!" their mother calls.
"Talor dal mio forziere
ruban tutti i gioelli
due ladri, gli occhi belli."
"Louise's right," Marie protests. "You're going to scar our poor, dear cousin. Aren't they, Aelita?"
Aelita looks over from where she and Elisabeth are decorating the mantelpiece with the homemade decorations that have somehow survived their childhoods. "Huh?" she asks.
Odd bursts out laughing, ducking Louise's ill-aimed slap. "Only you and Marie are grossed out, Lou. Come on, there's six of us, it's not like it's something new."
"Ew, Odd!" Marie shrieks. She gives up on sorting through one of the storage boxes to place her hands over her ears. Odd catches Aelita's smirk before she turns back to arranging their baubles on the mantle.
Odd cackles as he makes his way into the kitchen. His parents are also laughing, hard enough that his father has given up on singing La Bohéme. Pauline looks up from where she's taking the latest batch of spritz cookies out of the oven.
"Uh-uh," she says, noticing him hovering. "These are for the neighbors."
Odd pouts, fingers hovering over one of the cooling cookies. "Why do they get cookies and not your favorite brother?"
"You're my only brother," Pauline states. She shoos him aside so she can place the cookies down. "You know, a few years ago you'd be protesting as much as Louise and Marie out there," Pauline says conversationally.
"You heard that?"
Pauline snorts, transferring the spritz cookies from the baking sheet to the wire racks to cool. "I'm sure Adele could hear it upstairs," she laughs. She looks up at Odd from beneath her heavy bangs. "What's changed, little brother? You were never this worldly." Her eyebrows raise and the light catches on her eyebrow piercing. "Did you meet someone?"
It's Odd's turn to snort. "Please," he replies. "I've met a lot of someones." He steals a cookie and pops it into his mouth, ignoring Pauline's disapproving look. The cookie is warm and buttery soft in his mouth, the colorful sprinkles giving it just a hint of crunch. He's missed spritz cookies. He reaches for another cookie and Pauline smacks his hand with a spatula. "I just don't see the need to be disgusted by parents who actually, you know, love each other and us and stuff," he says shrugging.
Pauline stares at him curiously and he takes the opportunity to snatch two more cookies before she can smack him again. His hand is red from the flat of her spatula and he resists the urge to rub the skin. Pauline resumes transferring the cookies, either not noticing the missing cookies or choosing deliberately to ignore them.
"That's surprisingly mature for a fifteen year old," she says finally.
"Yeah, well, I've got hidden depths, you know."
"Like an onion," she agrees. "And just as smelly."
"Hey!" Odd protests.
Pauline simply grins at him and he hears his father start up singing again. It's not Italian opera though. Instead, he's singing En stjerne skinner i natt and Odd finds himself humming along absently. After a moment, he hears his mother join in, her voice is strong and steady though not as musically inclined as she thinks it is. Pauline shares a smile with him before she hands him another cookie.
Translations:
"La donna è mobil" - "The Woman is Fickle." Aria from Verdi's Rigoletto.
"Libiamo ne' lieti calici" - "Let's drink from the joyful cups." Duet from Verdi's La Traviata.
"La donna è mobil'. / Qual piuma al vento, / muta d'accento / e di pensier'!" - "Woman is flighty. / Like a feather in the wind, / she changes in voice / and in thought." From the aria "La donna è mobil" from Verdi's Rigoletto.
"Herr Stern" - German for "Mister Stern."
"Hallo Klaus, wie geht es dir?" - German for "Hello Klaus, how are you?"
"Sehr gut, Herr. Dankeschön. Wie war deine Reise?" - German for "Very well, sir. Thank you. How was your trip?"
"Che gelida manina, / se la lasci riscaldar" - "Your tiny hand is frozen! / Let me warm it into life." From the aria "Che gelida manina" from Puccini's La Bohéme
"Talor dal mio forziere / ruban tutti i gioelli / due ladri, gli occhi belli" - "Bright eyes as yours, believe me, / Steal my priceless jewels / In Fancy's storehouse cherish'd." From the aria "Che gelida manina" from Puccini's La Bohéme
"En stjerne skinner i natt" - "A Star Shines in the Night." Norwegian Christmas carol