Early on a Sunday morning of July, Odette told Doctor Toussaint she could now walk a good two hours without her cane. His happiness was tangible. She showed the flexibility she had regained after all those months of training and stretching. She mentioned she felt more powerful each time she was dancing with another dancer, who would accompany her every step carefully. He didn't ask for a name, but looked very satisfied upon hearing that she was not dancing alone.
He introduced her to a Chinese Acupuncturist, a word she had never heard before, and he worked over her whole leg for quite some time with strange needles. It was a good thing she the doctor nearby, even if the man kept joking about her leg looking like a hedgehog. She came out of the needles session really exhausted but in a strangely positive way. She didn't know what it did to her leg, but Doctor Toussaint thought she may be feeling changes later on.
She went straight back to sleep when she got to her room that morning. It was the first time she missed a Sunday training session, but she didn't even realise it.
Around 10 AM, a knock on the door woke Félicie with a start, and she opened up yawing wildly, surprised to spot Louis Mérante standing awkwardly before her.
"Hum, good morning," he began, hesitating. "Is Odette here?"
"Uh, dunno, lemme check," she muttered, rubbing her eyes while walking towards the curtain.
She looked for a few seconds inside, then turned hesitantly towards her teacher.
"She… She is sleeping. What time is it?" She added with a frown.
"Around 10 AM," he said, frowning as well. "Is she sick?"
"I dunno," the child murmured, worryingly looking towards the curtain. "How can I tell?"
He hesitated, then entered the room, silently closing the door behind him.
"I will check on her," he both decided and warned.
"Er, wait," Félicie muttered, suddenly self-conscious.
She entered the curtained area and he heard some shuffling before she came back to the opening.
"She looks fine to me, but she didn't react when I adjusted her chemise," she mentioned, biting her lower lip while holding the curtain for him to come in.
Odette was laying on a small bed, half curled in a ball, her wounded leg stretched over the sheets. Apparently, she had fallen asleep in a rush, her petticoat and skirt lying on the floor messily, her hair flowing wildly on her shoulders. She looked terribly young, and in a very deep sleep. Louis slowly sat on the bed as Félicie started gathering the clothes to straighten them on chairs. He could see her breathing was even, and her features looked peaceful. She had been rehearsing with Adélaïde and Rudolph last evening, and was pretty sure they had finished on a decent hour. What could have made her that needy of sleep?
A sight from her as she moved slightly stopped his thinking. Her chemise curled and revealed her right knee, completely bare. It was the first time he saw Odette's scar, and he realised the marks were actually all the way down to her ankle. It was barely noticeable now, especially with the stark contrast of her deformed knee. She was missing skin there, and the scar was very white and thick, like some melted candle wax. The wax-like part seemed to spread on her thigh as well, and he slowly pinched the chemise up to check the length of it.
"Tchh," Félicie's voice suddenly whispered next to him. "Isn't that privacy?"
He felt himself blushing and he straightened the cloth lower over her knee and leg, nodding.
"Sorry," he muttered. "You are right."
"It's okay, I've wanted to check too," Félicie murmured with a shrug. "And the white scar stops just above the knee. Her skin is very colourful after that."
"Hum," he simply replied, before sighting discreetly. "She doesn't seem sick. Maybe she just really needed to sleep."
"Yeah," she convened. "It has been crazy this week."
"Indeed," he nodded, before scrutinizing her. "If you dress fast enough, you can accompany me to brunch at a little restaurant I know nearby."
Her face lightened up and she exited the curtain area in a silent dash. He waited until he heard her leaving through the door. Taking a few more stolen minutes, he contemplated the woman deeply sleeping in the bed, her fists tightened around the sheets, her slender arms and legs. He wished she would eat more. At least now she was coming to the dining hall at lunch.
He dared brush her upper arm before standing. Could he have that at least? Just that caress, for him only to remember. What an old romantic he was.
Félicie was waiting for him on the Opéra's forecourt, intensively watching bystanders, sometimes mimicking some of their attitude. She was wearing that short and those tights she had when arriving at the Opéra. He remembered seeing her like that at the pub, so carefree and eager to dance. He would have to show her his Step Dancing one of these days, and maybe teach it to her.
She joined him when he approached her and beamed.
"Where are we going?" She asked excitedly.
"To a cosy place called La Mère Paulette," he answered, starting towards the right direction. "But also a place that requires good attitude because they have only high-standing customers. Do you remember how to eat with both a fork and a knife?"
"Yes!"
She started mimicking and explaining, and he corrected her on a few aspects. He was satisfied to note that she had retained most of his advices from their Sunday lunches. Maybe today he would start teaching her some vocabulary for going-out instances.
They were both walking down an alley when a bright and familiar colour caught his eyes and made him stop in his tracks. Was that…?
"What?" Félicie protested, almost hitting his leg. "That's exactly what you told me about the littlest spoon!"
"Did you see that?" he asked in a low voice, eyeing the depth of a perpendicular alleyway.
"No, what?" She whispered, leaning carefully towards the darkness.
"I am not sure," he murmured. "But I need to check. We are in the right area after all. Can you slowly go down this alley? I will join you from the other side."
"Er," she muttered as he suddenly left on a jog from where they came from. "Sure…"
Slowly, apprehensively, Félicie made her way down in the alleyway. It stunk, and she could feel rats nudging her shoes. She gulped when she walked on something squishy she couldn't correctly see, and quickly moved away from it. The alley was a covered one, cramped and tall between two old buildings. The kind of street Odette told her to avoid at night. What did she call it again? Oh yeah. Coupe-gorge. A death trap.
She startled when something fell a few meters in front of her. She saw a small silhouette wearing pale green dash towards the other end of the alleyway. Was that a child?
"WAIT!" Félicie called, but the child ran fast, hair flowing behind them.
A tall silhouette suddenly sprang from the other end of the alleyway, catching the running child up in the air, and Félicie skidded to a halt before them both.
"LEMME GO!" The gesticulating child roared, trying to hit Louis Mérante with her feet. "DON'T TOUCH ME PEASANT!"
"CAMILLE!" Louis Mérante yelled. "CALM DOWN!"
The child froze and silence fell. The girl's blonde hair was falling haphazardly over her shoulders and she sniffed twice before daring to look at the man holding her.
"Camille?" Félicie exclaimed, flabbergasted. "Is that really you?"
The man lowered the girl on the ground, where she straightened her green training clothes a bit before standing motionlessly. Louis Mérante kneeled slowly, eye to eye with her, and shook his head once.
"We are going to go to the Opéra," he murmured calmly. "Félicie will help you clean yourself and lend you some clothes."
The girl didn't answer, her hair hiding her face purposefully.
"Let's go," he said, standing and motioning for Félicie to help the blond girl.
"Come on, Camille," Félicie murmured, taking the girl hand timidly and dragging her slowly behind her.
The Ballet Master followed them both, his mind in a turmoil but his breathing even. The girl was dirty, terrified, and most of all, bruised. He had felt her shuddering when he had grabbed her arms. Whatever had happened had stopped her from going back home, while she quite obviously knew the way from here.
They were not far from the Opéra, and reached it in just a few minutes. Camille still didn't talk, and barely reacted when Félicie took her to the Cleaning room, currently deserted. Louis Mérante waited at the door while the red-haired helped the blond child cleaning and dressing herself. She even took her hairband off to tie Camille's hair. The girl remained expressionless.
"Er…" Félicie finally muttered. "I hope you like the dress. Rosita gave it to me, but I'm not that good at tying ribbons yet, sorry."
Camille looked down and started to redo the ribbons.
"It's a pretty dress," she finally murmured.
Her voice was raw, and there were big bags under her eyes. Félicie frowned.
"Are you hurt somewhere I didn't see?" She finally dared ask, hesitant. "I've had a bruise on my butt some months ago, I couldn't sit for days it was terrible."
Camille blinked and lowered her eyes on her arm. She peeled the sleeve, revealing a wide bruising mark on her shoulder and arm.
"Ouch," Félicie grimaced. "That must hurt. Good you won't have to sit on it though."
Camille shrugged.
"I rarely sit on my arm yeah," she sarcastically commented.
Félicie laughed.
"Yeah, me neither. Are you hungry?"
The other girl nodded.
"Cool! Me too. Let's go then."
Félicie grabbed her hand and dragged her while pushing the door. The Ballet Master raised an eyebrow over her determined look.
"We are hungry," The red-haired mentioned. "Can we go to the Dining Hall instead of La Mère Paulette?"
"I'm afraid they are not making breakfast at this hour," he answered, checking his watch and thinking at the same time. "I have an idea though. Can you two go to your room and wait for me there? I will bring back something."
"Yes," Félicie approved, beaming at him again. "Thank you."
Odette woke up to the smell of fresh bread and the sound of murmurs. She sighted and slowly stood on her bed. She felt like she had undergone three days of intensive training without a break. Her legs trembled a bit when she lowered them on the ground, her chemise riding her thighs and her long hair completely entangled. She sighted again more deeply and stood. Good Lord, her legs were rubbish today. Turning around, she checked the far away church clock through the window and stayed frozen for a few seconds. How could it be 11 AM? Had she really slept three more hours without realizing it? What had that Chinese Acupuncture done to her?
A familiar laugh brought her back to present, and she froze again upon hearing a low rumble sounding suspiciously like a man' voice. In their room?
She silently went to the curtain, and looked carefully through a gap. She blinked several times to make sure she was not imagining anything. Nope, it was definitely Camille Lehaut and Louis Mérante currently sitting next to Félicie, visibly enjoying a consequent breakfast of bread and pastries.
Odette went back to her water basin and took a few breaths. Alright. There should be an explanation. She would get cleaned and dressed first, as silently as she could. It actually took her very little time, as she had fallen back to sleep while still wearing her day chemise. She secured her hair before calmly sliding on the other side of the curtain.
Louis Mérante was already looking at her, as if he knew she was coming in. She frowned at him then noticed his worried look. He wasn't really eating either.
"Morning Odette," Félicie smiled. "Look, Monsieur Mérante bought those amazing pastries for us!"
"Did he now," she muttered, bringing a fourth chair to the table.
She sat in front of Camille, and paused after sitting to actually assess the blond girl eating slowly.
"Hello Camille," she finally murmured.
The girl raised her head, and for a brief second, Odette saw a strange expression in her startled eyes, before she lowered her gaze once again on the bread.
"So I'm guessing it finally happened," Odette murmured, not realizing Louis Mérante was slipping a plate with two pastries in front of her.
"What happened?" Félicie frowned, looking between Odette and Camille.
"Régine hit you," Odette simply said, and Camille sharply looked at her, her lips tight with anger.
Then she lowered her eyes, suddenly sad.
"No," she murmured. "She did not."
"We can help you, Camille," Odette said softly. "Tell us what happened."
The girl looked briefly trapped, giving a quick glance around, before coming back to Odette's honest eyes.
"Mother says you are not to be trusted. That you are a liar," she muttered.
"I have lied to your mother when we were both young dancers at the Opéra, it is true," nodded Odette. "We were fifteen and stupid. In the end, we both lost dancing because of our lies. That doesn't mean you should end the same way."
Silence fell. Félicie had stopped chewing, watching with fascination between both ladies. Louis Mérante had completely stopped moving and even seemed to be holding his breath. Camille bit her lips again.
"She… She was angry I didn't get Odette or Odile part. I told her it was because I was too young, but she wouldn't listen. She said I had to work harder. She made me train yesterday night," she confessed with a shrug.
The Ballet Master took a sharp intake of breath but didn't intervene. His eyes were sending lightning bolts towards the bread.
"I… I went to the weight machine, to work on my legs. She strapped them to my feet and said I had to do two hundred push ups before leaving it. I… I couldn't. I really tried, but I was so tired, and my legs hurt… At one point, I couldn't push the weights back, and they were starting to crush my breathing. Mother said she was going to get herself tea, and that I should have finished when she came back."
Odette put her hand on Félicie's arm, stopping her from reacting. She gave her a warning look before going back to Camille's huddled form.
"When she was out of the room," the girl whispered. "I untied the weights and got out of the machine. I was so tired I remember I fell twice while trying to get to the door. I guess that's why she heard me. She grabbed me when I was in the corridor. Here," she mentioned, showing her right shoulder and arm. "It hurt, so I asked her to stop, but she was bringing me back to the training room and not listening. Then I panicked, and bit her arm. She let go of me and I ran as fast as I could. I ran downstairs, then out of the house, out of our courtyard, and I tried to find the darkest street to hide."
Silence fell and Félicie sniffed. She seemed on the verge of crying, and slowly got out of her chair to come next to Camille and hug her.
"I know what it must have felt," she said in a stifled voice. "I'm sorry she did that to you too."
"What do you mean, to you too?" Louis Mérante said in a very low, growling voice, her eyes slowly leaving the bread to rest on the red-haired girl.
Félicie hesitated, avoiding his eyes, and finally decided not to answer. He looked at Odette who was frowning, and she discreetly shook her head. She didn't know either. He suddenly stood.
"I will be back," he said, before leaving the room with haste.
Silence fell again, but not for long as both girls were sniffing while hugging each other.
"Have you slept?" Odette finally asked.
Camille shrugged.
"Not much," she managed to whimper.
"Alright," Odette murmured, rising from her seat. "You need to sleep. Can you lend her your bed, Félicie?"
"Yeah sure," the girl said, starting to lead the blond one towards the bed.
"I'm not tired," Camille muttered, wiping her eyes with her arm.
"It's okay, I will stay with you," Félicie promised, opening her sheets and encouraging her to climb in the bed. "You are safe here. You can rest."
"Camille," Odette said, gently moving Félicie on the side. "Listen to me, okay?"
The girl nodded, letting the red-haired tuck the sheets messily around her. Odette sat on the covers and look her deeply in the eyes.
"What your mother did to you, it is something no mother should do to their child. No matter how angry or frustrated she was, she shouldn't have pushed you like that, shouldn't have scared you out of your home. It is very important that you understand that, alright? Because you must not let this happen to you without doing anything," Odette lectured her in a firm voice. "You are a good dancer, also a good person, and there are adults here to whom you can talk. I am not sure yet of what is going to happen, but we will certainly try our best to protect you from now on. So rest, especially, rest your legs, because they are your most important tool and you need to respect them. Okay?"
The girl nodded.
"Don't leave her side Félicie, alright? I will bring the food back to the kitchen. I shall not be long."
"Okay," the girl murmured, lowering herself next to the blond child.
Side by side, they barely fit in the makeshift bed, but that didn't seem to bother them. Odette gathered the food on her tray and left through the door with it.
She needed to speak to Louis Mérante.
He didn't know what to do for sure, but he had to get out of the room. He had been horrified by Camille's story, but when Félicie had murmured that 'you too', he had felt inside a murderous rage, making him leave before all hell broke loose in his head. He was beyond furious now as he rushed to Auguste's office, knowing well the man wouldn't be there on a Sunday, but determined to look for some kind of information on Régine Lehaut, anything that could help him trap the woman into a more harmless role. He had to do something. He had almost lost the child once, he was clearly not willing to let her and his second best Coryphée unwillingly leave without doing anything.
Alas, there was so little to find. Not much had been recorded by the previous headmaster, only the names of dancers and the years they were accepted into the school and/or into the Troup. He found Régine Lehaut in that last section, under May 1870. The name was crossed out and it was written July 1872 next to it. She lasted a bit more than one year and left before the beginning of the new season. She left only five months before Odette's accident. What could have happened? Was she fired because of misconduct? It was Olivier who was in charge of the Opéra at the time. Alas, the man had died. He would not give him answer.
The door of the office opened, and he raised his head, his eyes still angry. He softened upon seeing Odette calmly marching towards him. She was finishing a pastry, he noticed with brief satisfaction.
"Where are the girls?" He murmured after she closed the door.
"Sleeping in Félicie's bed," she answered after swallowing, walking towards him. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to find info. To incapacitate Régine Lehaut. Several months ago, I told her I would not tolerate her training Camille anymore, since the girl would be training under my direction from now on. I made no precise threat but apparently I should have," he gloomily muttered.
"Info," Odette repeated, observing the mess he had made with student's and Troup's books. "I see."
"I have no idea how to help Camille," he murmured with a soft sight. "There is no actual protection for children being abused by their families unfortunately. I will have to ask Félicie again about what happened between her and Régine Lehaut, maybe it could help to get the Police into this…" he added, passing a hand over his neck wearily.
She remained silent for a moment, wiping her hands on her apron thoughtfully.
"Régine and I were both in the Coryphées at the same time when we were eleven," she suddenly admitted.
Louis straightened slowly, staring at her with a calm look.
"We were rivals," Odette shrugged, slowly taking a sit in a nearby chair. "We became even more rivals after I got the role for Clara and she didn't. When we were in age to join the Troup, we were both given Corps de Ballet, as it is the use when you start professionally at the Opéra. But we both wanted more, we both wanted to touch the stars and we both worked really hard for that. Marie noticed it, and suggested that we were both proposed auditions for better positions. We did them, separately. We both became Sujet the year we started preparing Swan Lake and we both got to be Little Swans on it."
She took a moment to breathe before continuing, the memories visibly grieving her.
"Then our Prima broke her leg on March. Outside of repetitions, she was stupidly dancing on the rooftops of the Opéra and missed a step… It was almost fatal. Marie said she would pick one, between Régine and I, to dance Odile/Odette, and that she would take a week to think on it. I… I really didn't know who she would pick. Régine was one year older than me, more mature and definitely more confident in herself. And I really wanted the part. So I… concocted a plan."
She gulped.
"There was a donator that kept coming to see us performing. He was generous and admired both of us. He would offer us gifts, expensive ones, and tried several times to, er… find some time alone with us. One day, I let him, and arranged for Régine to believe I got pregnant from him. I didn't, by the way," she clarified, embarrassingly looking away. "But I simulated the pregnancy. Thinking she had already won, Régine trained less and started parading around. We were quite stupid at the time, none of us really knew how long it took before being with child became visible, so she easily believed in my false belly when she saw it."
"How…" Louis intervened, then hesitating. "I mean… You… How did you not get pregnant yourself though?"
"I wasn't a woman yet at the time," she chastely answered, blushing. "I was quite late compared to other girls, which I had not realised at the time, so you could say I gambled, mostly."
"That's daring," he muttered, eyebrows frowned.
"Yes. Anyway, the day Marie was supposed to choose, she made us both dance Odile's solo. Régine went first and made only one mistake. Then I went on stage, my false pregnancy gone, and I danced my best Odile at the time, really giving everything out. So Marie picked me. Régine was so angry… I will never forget that rage on her face."
"When was that precisely?" He asked, checking the dates in a book.
"Beginning of April 1872. I started training for the Swan Princess under Marie's tutoring. Repetitions with Régine did not go well, she was more and more bitter, harassing other dancers. One day, I saw her on stage as she was training on the Little Swans. It was the beginning of July, it was really warm. She was slower than usual, and she ended up fainting."
"So something actually happened with her," Louis frowned. "Something that made her leave the Troup on July. Was she sick?"
"No," Odette answered sadly. "She was with child. She had slept with the donator as well."
Silence fell.
"Camille was born on January, a few days after Swan Lake first representation," Odette murmured, her eyes lost in her memories. "Régine never came back to Ballet though. Her parents, upon realizing she was pregnant, hurried to marry her to a friend of theirs, owning a restaurant. She had to help run it from then on."
"I thought Régine gave you the caretaker position in her house out of sympathy," Louis slowly phrased. "How did you enter her service with that history?"
"I am not sure how she did it, but her husband actually was the one to offer me the position. He died of a sickness when Camille was six though. I suppose she kept me around to make sure I would always be at a lower position than her," Odette sighted, before stretching her back. "Yes, not really a shiny past, I know. But my story should help you have a better understanding of her actions towards Camille. I was afraid for years that she would try to hurt the child out of revenge, but it's Régine, so of course she did much worse than that."
"She projected everything on the girl and turned her into a perfect little soldier obeying her every whims," Louis muttered, sitting in Auguste's chair tiringly.
"She must have felt like the past was rewriting itself, yesterday night," Odette mused. "Camille coming back home to tell her she would be a Little Swan on Swan's Lake, with the kid that had danced Clara instead of her on the Nutcracker on last season…"
"Poor kid," Louis admitted.
"I am going to tell Camille we will make room for her in the attic if she ever needs a safe place to come back to," Odette said, slowly standing again. "But for now, I do not see what else we could be doing."
"I will talk with Régine Lehaut, and think of something," Louis said, watching her closely. "Are you alright?"
"Me?" She said, surprised. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well," he slightly smirked. "It's difficult to dance a pas de deux without a partner, you know."
"Oh, Lord!" She exclaimed, suddenly blushing. "I am so sorry. I… I had to go see my doctor this morning and he… Well, I was very tired when I came back, I… I fell asleep while changing," she confessed with embarrassment.
"That's alright," he smiled. "You obviously needed that sleep. I am glad you are taking care of your health anyway."
She didn't answer but her body started to orient itself towards the door, as if it wanted to escape.
"I need to go home," he said upon checking his watch. "I trust you will take care of both girls. If anything happens, I will leave you my address, you can send someone there or come yourself with them," he mentioned, scribbling rapidly on a free paper before handing it to her.
"Hum," she hummed, taking the paper and sliding it in her apron pocket. "Good day to you then Monsieur."
"Good day to you Odette," he answered absent-mindedly, closing each book and sorting them back as they used to be.
She marked a pause on her way out, but decided not to mention the lack of honorific.
Maybe one day she would be foolish enough to call him by his name as well.
Both girls woke up at the same time, in the middle of the afternoon. Félicie soon became restless, suggesting first they should train their Little Swan Moment, then that they should go have a look at the Eiffel Tower, for the third floor was beginning to get built. Camille stayed in the bed, visibly brooding, and Odette did her best to calm the red-haired girl while searching for something to keep them both busy.
She was not long to find the right solutions to both of their moods. First, she suggested they brought a second little bed next to Félicie's, in case Camille would want to come back. There were a lot of beds and props in the attic, in different broken states, but with the three of them, it was quick to rebuild one from pieces and put it against the wall with cosy sheets and covers.
When they were done, Odette told both girls to get dressed, and as silent as a mouse, she brought them into the Imperial Lounge topping the stage of the Opéra. Some Sujets of the Troup were working on the ball scene, Hungarian and Neapolitan Dances mostly. Félicie and Camille became immediately enthralled, and started murmuring about some of the moves they were watching.
Odette left them be, going back to her classroom to stretch and train herself. She could feel a strange softness in her muscles, and she was extremely careful with each of her moves. Doctor Toussaint had warned her to take it easy anyway.
Louis Mérante found her around 7 PM, stretching on the ground in her now familiar dance training outfit. She was extremely slow with her split, massaging her legs regularly. He let his cane sound slightly on the floor and she arched back slowly to look at him. It was a very nice pose, he would admit, in his head only.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
"It kept bugging me, that situation," he just shrugged. "I talked to Auguste about Camille. He said I should keep her at the Opéra until we see her mother in person. I suppose we can wait until tomorrow at least."
She sighted and retracted her legs carefully, before standing, ever so slow.
"Alright," she murmured. "I will go find food for her as well then."
"Don't bother," he replied immediately, watching as she grew closer, her limp barely noticeable. "I am taking the four of you to a restaurant tonight."
"A… Why?" She protested, frowning. "You know her mother owns a restaurant right? Isn't that idea a bit too close to home for Camille?"
"On the contrary," he shook his head as she reached his level, sweating a bit from the heat of this period and the training. "I believe it could help her. Look at you, Odette. You couldn't dance anymore, but that didn't stop you from coming back to the Opéra immediately."
"I had nowhere else to go," she objected.
"Neither does she. She is an underaged girl with no other guardian than her mother. She will have to deal with that as long as she is not employed by someone or an institution," he said with a grim face. "All we can do is offer her a safe place for when she needs respite, and cultivate her passion for dance."
Odette lowered her gaze sadly.
"I see," she murmured, crossing her arms in a vulnerable way. "Yes, I remember being in a situation like that. Except I was way older than her."
He nodded, then gave a quick look around.
"Where are they, by the way?"
"In the Imperial Lounge," she shrugged, moving again towards the doors. "I will go change and join the three of you on the forecourt."
"Alright," he murmured, watching her disappear in the corridor.
He had noticed it recently. She was roaming the halls without her cane sometimes. It was a dizzying sight, compared to what she looked like on February, five months ago. Whatever that doctor had done to her, it had been very efficient.
They were both dancing on the empty stage, mimicking the Neapolitan dance. Camille had a smile on her face, ordering Félicie around and judging carefully on each step. Precision, always. They were really complementary those two. The Ballet Master looked at them for a few seconds, thoughtful, then took the pathway to backstage. He had barely eaten after that improvised breakfast in Félicie' room, and couldn't wait to get some food in his stomach.
The three of them waited for several minutes on the Opéra's forecourt, Félicie showing to Camille the art of dancing like a pigeon. It was an amusing sight to watch, those two ballerinas, trying to elegantly mimic two pigeons strutting on a plaza. It reminded him there was a fable named 'Les Deux Pigeons", written some centuries ago. He would have to reread it, in his memories, it was a good little story.
Félicie suddenly burst out laughing, pointing a pigeon running after another one, and her wide grin reminded Louis Mérante that he had some advices to give her before they reached the restaurant. Behavioural Advices. He closed the distance between them and kneeled in front of both girl as they turned curiously towards him.
"Listen," he said. "Especially you, Félicie, because I am pretty sure Camille knows about that already. When we will be at the restaurant, you will have to behave in a certain way, the most accepted one while in good society."
"Good society? You mean, when being in a place full of people we don't know and we have to look good?" The red-haired frowned. "I know 'bout that, aight. The nun taught us manners."
"Alright," he nodded. "Let's see if you were taught those I know then. When you have several knives next to your plate, do you know which one to use first?"
Silence fell, and Félicie bit her lower lip.
"Uh," she murmured. "The… The sharp one?"
Camille guffawed.
"The one on the exterior first," she whispered helpfully.
"Oh," Félicie muttered. "The nun didn't teach me that."
"That's alright," Louis Mérante reassured her. "Camille and I will teach you. But if you don't know or are not sure tonight, please don't try anything, just ask me. Understood?"
"Yeah sure," the girl shrugged before beaming at him. "Don't worry, I will be on my best behaviour, Monsieur!"
He paused. Something was amiss in that sentence. He couldn't pinpoint what exactly. She did look like she really wanted to behave though.
"What kind of restaurant are we going to, Monsieur?" Camille suddenly asked timidly. "Is it family, traditional, exotic, fancy…?"
"Family and fancy," he answered with a nod. "I am keeping the surprise of which one, but it won't be your mother's, don't worry."
He didn't hear Odette arriving by his side. Both girls did see her though and turned towards her as he was just smelling that soap he knew she used. It was amusing that he would notice her just from that nowadays. They had spent such precious time dancing together, he felt as if she was a part of him now, and as if he knew each of her scents. He was certain he would not tire of it as well. Their dancing… It was unique, and challenging.
"Do YOU know which fancy restaurant we are going to?" Félicie asked avidly towards Odette, Camille quiet by her side in the pink dress.
"Fancy?" Odette repeated, surprised. "Well, I do not. You should ask Louis."
Silence fell, both children and the Ballet Master, slowly standing, staring at the caretaker as if she was missing clothes. Odette looked away, straightening her blue dress with a sight. She either had an incredible poker face, or she had not realised the use of his first name.
"The restaurant is a few streets behind the Opéra," Louis Mérante finally said, his face looking funny as he turned back towards the kids. "I am ready to bet you will love it, Félicie."
"Really? Why?"
"I am not the kind of person to spoil a surprise," he replied, shrugging. "Come on, open the way both of you, follow that street."
Both girls obeyed, trotting away, one more excited than the other. He waited a bit until they were out of hearing, then turned towards the silent lady in a blue dress by his side.
"So," he began.
"So," she repeated calmly. "I have been thinking."
"Oh?" He replied, as he politely gave her his arm to hold.
She stared at the arm before slowly taking it, her cane moving in her other hand to start their walk. He tried not to glow out of satisfaction. Each day was a progress.
"Félicie has been talking about you a lot recently. How you took her to see the swans, offered her candies, then this afternoon she told me you were about to take her to La Mère Paulette for breakfast, and how you were teaching her about cutlery and how to use them…" She listed the facts slowly, thoughtfully. "She also told me you carried her from the pub that night when she was so sad about Victor leaving."
"Oh yes," he muttered. "Did he leave in the end?"
"Yes, last month. We went to say goodbye very early in the morning. She cried a lot from morning to evening."
"Really? I don't remember seeing her cry," he mentioned, frowning.
"You were not teaching her that day, I was. It was some time before the Students' Special announcement, which actually helped a lot soothing her."
"I see," he murmured.
He felt sorry for the child. It was not easy when you were young, to say goodbye to your closest friends. The fable he was thinking about earlier came back to his mind suddenly. It was about a pigeon willing to travel while the other did not. It didn't end really well. Maybe he would wait some time before bringing that book to Félicie.
"You should adopt her."
He nearly stopped in his tracks, and looked at her with disbelief.
"I beg you pardon?"
"You should adopt her," Odette repeated, her eyes set on the girls reading streets' names. "You are good to her."
"Odette," he said firmly, stopping them both to turn her to him, their eyes meeting. "You are speaking nonsense. That child is yours. She is your daughter, everyone knows that, even Félicie. Why would I take her away from you?"
"I am not saying you should take her away from me," she countered calmly. "I am saying that you enjoy taking care of her, teaching her, and that you also have a higher social status than me. With you, she would have security, and she would learn what is needed to fit into society."
"Which you could perfectly teach her yourself," he replied heavily.
"I cannot give her social security," Odette shook her head and shifted away, resuming their walk. "If something was to happen to me one day, she would be on her own again. If you adopted her, and something was to happen to you, she would be fine, because she would have your name and your wealth."
He was fighting very hard not to get angry. He could hear what she was saying, but he certainly didn't like it.
"You are her family. I am not taking her from you," he firmly refused. "Even if you are making sense, both of your mental well-beings and your life balance is more important to me than social security."
This time, it was Odette's turn to stop, frowning.
"Mental well-being?" She repeated. "You are part of her mental well-being as well."
"She lives with you, she trusts you, she loves you. You are the one making her feel safe."
"She calls you Louis when she talks to me about you."
His reply faltered on his lips and his face fell a bit, confused.
"You just have to ask to have her follow you anywhere in Paris," she added adamantly. "You are talking to me about family and motherhood, but really, if there was one man she would be considering as a father, it would be you, Monsieur. So, are you really not seeing that relationship you are building with her, or are you just trying to hide from it?"
He was astounded and speechless. No coherent thought was coming to his mind as her grey-blue eyes kept delving into his own, looking for an answer.
"You did not realise it," she suddenly understood, stunned.
"I…" He murmured awkwardly, his eyes suddenly going towards both girls, who had stopped several meters ahead of them and were looking at them with puzzled looks. "I didn't think… No, I didn't know." He gulped.
She didn't say anything else, just kept looking at him silently. He frowned at her.
"I have never had children to care for, children, not students," he tried to justify himself, feeling he was starting to blush. "I just did what I thought felt right for her."
"Humm." She had a slight smile.
"I am sorry," he sighted. "This is… I am not familiar with all this."
Small feet were getting close to them, and he shut his mouth, looking at Félicie's hesitant face as she drew close to them.
"Are you two fighting?" She murmured, hesitant, Camille trailing cautiously a few steps behind her.
"No," they answered in unison, before exchanging a quick and embarrassed look.
"Sorry for lagging behind," Odette said with a sorry smile. "It was a long day and my body is tired."
"We are almost there," Louis Mérante mentioned after clearing his throat, giving her his arm again. "Let's continue. We will turn right next junction."
"Okay," Félicie muttered, inspecting them weirdly.
His eyes almost couldn't leave the child. He truly had not realised how much he had bonded with Félicie over the last few months. Was that really what It felt like, to be a father?
It was a two-storey Irish Restaurant, bright with colours and space, the first floor overlooking the stage where musicians where playing some musical classics. Both girls were euphoric, yet they still behaved appropriately, hands linked together in front of them while waiting by Odette's side. Louis could almost hear from his spot, Félicie's intense breathing upon discovering the crowded place. There were families a bit everywhere.
"Good evening, ladies and gentleman," a man with red hair, a green bow tie and a brown apron bowed. "Did you make a reservation?"
"Yes," Louis nodded. "Table for four for Mérante."
"Absolutely," the man smiled. "Welcome to The Green Goose, Pat will take you to your seats," he said motioning to another younger bow-tied red-haired.
Their seats were on the right side of the room, around a cosy table wedged against the wall. They had a good view over the musicians and the ball space, currently only occupied by an old couple tenderly dancing an unstable waltz.
Louis pulled the chair for Odette while the waiter helped both girls sit next to the wall, with views straight to the stage. They both had started whispering excitedly with each other, discreetly pointing sometimes (mostly Félicie, and Camille was quick to push back her finger with a vehement whisper each time). Odette was smiling as she sat and hung her cane securely to the chair. The warm atmosphere and the kids' enthusiasm had brought colour to her face and visible respite in her body. Lovely, he thought, laying down his jacket over his backrest.
"Would like a drink while you wait for your meals?" Pat suggested.
"Yes, a jug of water to start. Do you want to drink something Odette?" He added turning towards the woman.
"A glass of water and lemon would be nice, thank you," she smiled towards the waiter.
"A lemonade for the lady alright. Should I bring one for your daughters as well?"
"My…" Odette startled, and Louis quickly took over.
"Yes please, and one for me as well," he approved, knowing very well both girls were looking at him as if he had sprouted a second head. "What's on the menu for kids tonight by the way?"
"Fish and chips sir!" The young man chirped happily.
"Perfect," he nodded. "I will take the fish myself. Meat or fish, Odette?"
"Meat please," she said, her eyes squinting at him meaningfully.
"Noted! Please enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, do signal any green bowtie bearer around," Pat smiled before walking away.
Louis shrugged under Odette's reproachful eyes.
"Don't give me those eyes. Everyone is going to mistake us for a family, I am not using what remains of my energy to correct all of them," he justified himself.
"Alright," she murmured, seeming surprised. "As you wish… Louis."
He fought back his blush. Twice already she had called his name. Save the face. Get used to it already. Forget about how she pressed on his every vowels.
"Well then girls," Odette added towards both silent kids watching them. "Congratulations, you get to call Monsieur Mérante, Father, for the evening. Be sure not to brag about it this week," she said, giving them both a warning but malicious look.
A smile broke Félicie's face and Camille visibly bit the inside of her cheek, an uncertain smile on her own lips.
"Neat!" The red-haired exclaimed, beaming at the man. "Do we get to call you Mother as well?"
Odette sighted before giving the child a tender smile.
"I guess so," she murmured.
"I… I already have a Mother," Camille murmured hesitantly as Félicie whispered a joyful yes.
Odette leaned her elbows on the table, looking the girl in the eyes.
"This is a game, Camille," she said in a low, reassuring voice. "I, more than anyone, know that you have a Mother, and also that you had a father. This evening, it is like Rosita dancing the Swan Princess on stage, it is pretending for just a while, to make people believe in the story. And you do not have to play if you do not want to, you can still call us as you usually do."
"Okay," the girl agreed, seeming relieved.
"I'm so playing," Félicie said excitedly, before faltering a bit. "I… I've never played Family with adults before."
"Don't worry," Camille said, patting her hand. "It's really not hard. I remember when my dad was alive, we would eat at the restaurant at the end of service with Mother. It was really fun and easy," she smiled before saddening down. "I wish he would still be there."
Félicie took her hand and gave her a small smile.
"Well, I am here," she said as a waiter with four full glasses was nearing their table.
Louis contemplated the red-haired for a few seconds, thoughtful as the man was laying down the drinks, to her clear delight. Rudolph had some sense when he said she was a sun or a star. Her mood was infectious, her passion infinite and even though she made mistakes sometimes, she instinctively knew how to make the right decisions. She would go far if well accompanied. He knew deep down, he wanted to be there to see it. And he knew Odette was right. He had built that relationship with the child because he wanted her to have the same chance than he had at finding her spot in the world.
Those thoughts stayed within him for the whole diner, which actually went without a hitch. Both girls adored the fish and chips, and both became suddenly enthralled in the middle of it when the small music group started playing Irish jigs. Louis could almost feel Félicie's legs moving at the same rhythm under the table as she became heavily conflicted between going to dance and eating her plate. Her solution was to look at him with big imploring eyes and he had to hide his amused smile behind his hand.
"Your food won't disappear if you go dancing now," he hinted subtly.
Her face lightened up and she stood wildly to whoop, before remembering where she was and with whom.
"Er," she muttered. "Can I… MAY I go on stage to teach Camille how to dance Celtic?" She asked Odette with an imploring look.
The woman nodded calmly and both girls dashed out of their seats to join the now consequent crowd of dancers on the ball floor. Odette snorted, looking at them from behind with a tender smile.
"I'm surprised she took the time to ask," she commented.
"She even used 'may'," Louis laughed briefly. "Progress each day. Did you teach her that?"
"I think Nora did," Odette murmured, laying down her fork and knife.
That was a lot of food to ingest. She was not used to that much, she needed a break.
"Do you like your food?" He inquired, drinking from his glass while looking at her.
He had been looking at her a lot this evening as well. Félicie had called her 'mother' twice during diner, and twice she had smiled, her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling, hiding her mouth behind her napkin like she was doing now.
"Yes," she nodded. "It is really good. How is your fish?"
"Nicely cooked," he replied with satisfaction. "Irish proficiency in fishes is a safe bet."
"Hum."
Her eyes darted behind her, looking serenely at both girls dancing.
"I have been thinking," he said finally, lowering his fork and wiping his mouth.
"Is that so," she answered, throwing him an amused glare.
"I have a lot of faith and pride in Félicie, even though I am not her father and I've known her only for half a year," he began, and she nodded in agreement. "I guess I've projected a lot of my hopes in her, because I think that with her talent, her passion and her hard-working mindset, she is going to go far."
"Yes," Odette murmured. "Funny, that's what Marie told Olivier about me a dozen years ago."
"Marie wrote to Marius about you," he revealed, and she startled, surprised. "About her hopes for you. I remember twelve years ago, he told me I would have to go back to Paris at one point, to check on all the promising ballerinas of the Opéra, because apparently they were a few worth working with. He was… Well, he still likes working with the best," he grimaced. "And bring the best to Russia."
She looked away at both girls again, her mind on something else.
"I've disappointed Marie a lot," Odette finally said. "She kept telling me about everywhere I would dance, about everyone that would want to have me. I was too proud already at the time, but I think, now that I am in her situation, her own pride pressured me a lot. It went to my head, all those praises, and I just went along with it. I would have done anything to please her, and so would Félicie now with me or you."
"You are saying we should be careful not to put that pressure on Félicie," he inferred.
"Yes," she approved. "She must make her own path through the world. I want to stand by her, to teach her, but I won't force anything on her. If she tells me she suddenly wants to dance French Cancan, I won't stop her. If she wants to marry and have children, I won't either. I believe her passion comes from her free spirit."
"Yes," he murmured, watching the woman with tender eyes as he laid back against his chair. "I agree with you. She has good intuition on her life choices, at least with the right persons by her side."
"She does," The woman smiled, leaning her arm and head on her chair's backrest while looking at the girl.
"You do realise everything would be much easier for her and for us if we were married, right?" He finally dared murmur at her, his eyes like small embers.
She didn't register his words at first, but her smile quickly slid and she seemed to freeze on her seat. She didn't say anything to that and he waited hopefully for something, anything. She did nothing, unmoving and her face showing off a distant look. He felt a pang in his chest. That was not the right thing to say, even if it was the only conclusion spinning in his head. She had already said no to wooing.
"Forgive me," he said, lowering his eyes to his plate. "I know you are not looking for that from me, you already made that clear."
"You think us marrying would help Félicie access a stable life, both mentally and socially," she summed up suddenly, seeming to make deep calculations.
His heart skipped a beat and he frowned, taken aback by a memory. This was the kind of sentence he had heard from his own mother when she had explained to him why she needed to marry his father. Stability for her child, social status to grant him access to dancing lessons, then dancing opportunities. It was worth sacrificing her own ballet career, she had said, before dying alone in her big empty bed. He felt heaviness in him now. He stood slowly.
"We are not going to marry, Madame," he said in a tight voice. "Félicie doesn't need that from us to be fine. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to teach her Step Dancing."
He left without looking at her, trying to swallow back his uneasiness. Why did he have to propose that?
Breathing became easier once she was outside. The cool air of that July night was enough to make the heat stroke go away slowly. She had felt the familiar warmth rising while talking with him, trying not to think about it had not helped her case though. She had fumbled with her cane after he had suddenly left, glad that the building had an inner courtyard not far from their table, with only a few kids playing in it joyfully. She had sat on a box not far from the kitchen door, yet quite hidden.
Heat strokes were common in summer. On her first year after the accident, she would keep fainting at least once a week. Luckily, nurses were always nearby, and with them she found several solutions to anticipate strokes, and sometimes cancel them. The Doctor had said it was normal. Her broken body had trouble regulating heat and cold now, she needed time to let her skin get used to its damaged self. In the last few years, she had had strokes more scarcely, sometimes in the middle of cleaning on those hottest days of summer, but they had become very rare.
It was probably the blue dress. It was heavier and denser than her usual clothes, on a summer night it was a bit to warm. Maybe she would actually be using the short green skirt and petticoat finally.
Maybe it was also the conversation that tilted her body so fast. She had felt her blood run cold and warm all of a sudden, first as he spoke about marriage, then after he left so abruptly. She knew she had badly behaved with him. He had made it clear that he liked her, Lord knew why, and she clearly had thought aloud about using those feelings for something else, namely Félicie's wellbeing. She would have to apologize to him.
With teaching, her life had gotten better, and with her own dance training, her confidence had started to boost up again, as Doctor Toussaint had predicted. She knew she was finding some old habits back because of that, first of all her tendency to use all those people that tried to get to her. She could not do that to Louis Mérante, not after everything the man had done for her. She didn't know where that positioned him in her life though, nor how to deal with him. But she owed him a modicum of respect.
When she was sure she was feeling better, she stood again, and went back inside. It was not hard to spot her three companions, clearly having become the main event. She knew Step Dancing, and she also knew she would never be able to dance it again, but she was fine by it. Looking at Félicie dancing with her mentor on her side, following attentively his steps, was good enough. She drew closer, her cane silently hitting the ground in the general hubbub and intense music, and sat on one of the spectating chairs on the side of the stage, in a lone corner where no one would bother her.
Camille spotted her first, as she was constantly looking around, maybe fearing to see her Mother emerging from the crowd. She gave her a timid and tired smile and Odette motioned her to come.
"Yeah?" The girl said breathlessly after delicately running to her.
"Don't push your legs too much," Odette reminded her gently. "Or you will be really tired this week in dance training."
The girl nodded, seeming relieved, and timidly sat next to her.
"Félicie is really good at Step Dancing," she said both enviously and with admiration.
"I suppose you could say it's in her blood," Odette smiled at her. "Celtic is her home, after all."
"I think she misses Brittany sometimes. She talks about the orphanage a lot."
"Yes. It was the only thing she knew for a long time."
Camille sighted, laying back against her chair.
"I've only known my home too. And Mother's restaurant. The world is so big."
"Are you curious to discover it?" Odette asked as Félicie was improvising pirouettes in the middle of steps.
"No. It's… scary," the child murmured.
"True that," Odette nodded. "There was a saying in the Troup though, when I was part of it. Anywhere with ballet is home, no matter the country."
Camille smiled. Louis Mérante grabbed Félicie as she was doing a sauté and made her gently turn then land. She beamed at him and he said something that had her snort less elegantly.
"It's true," Camille approved. "I've always felt at home at the Opéra."
"So do I. And so did your mother at a time."
She had thrown the line just in case the girl wanted to talk about it, and now she could almost see the gears in the girl's head, moving rapidly.
"You danced with Mother," the blond kid finally said hesitantly, more a statement than a question.
"I did. A long time ago, we actually rehearsed the Little Swans together, like you and Félicie are doing nowadays," she remembered with nostalgy.
"She often tells me she was the best dancer of her time."
"She was an excellent dancer, she trained hard for it too. She probably could have become a Prima Ballerina," Odette admitted.
Camille's gaze lowered to the ground and she distinctly gulped.
"She stopped dancing because I was born, didn't she?" The child murmured, her face grievous.
"I don't think so," Odette simply answered, turning her gaze on her. "There are many ballerinas that give birth before going back to dancing, you know. Your mother certainly could have done the same if she had been allowed."
"But if I wasn't born, she would have been fine," Camille languished sadly.
"I think you are mistaking something, Camille," Odette frowned. "It wasn't your birth that stopped your mother from dancing. It was the fact that she had gotten pregnant while being unmarried. You are still young, so that's maybe not something you have been told yet. But women, upon coming at a certain age, must be careful of what they are doing with men, because if they are not, they may become pregnant. A woman alone with child will have the hardest life in our society," Odette added in a sad murmur.
Camille was staring at her incredulously.
"Mother told me she got pregnant with me after she married Dad," she said, a strange emotion starting to show on her face.
Odette gave her a sorry look.
"Your mother was definitely pregnant with you before marrying."
"You are lying," Camille growled aggressively.
"There is only one way to find out, Camille," Odette gently answered. "There is only one person that would know."
"Mother told me you were a liar."
Odette sighted and turned her gaze back to Félicie. She was learning another step from her teacher, with great concentration. Her eyes kept darting towards him in a cute adoring way, and Odette felt her heart squeezing slightly. He should really adopt her.
"I lied to your mother because I wanted to dance the Swan Princess as much as she did. Just like Félicie stole your letter because she wanted so much to dance. Why would I lie to you today Camille? What could that bring me?" She questioned the angered child calmly. "Think about it. Who would benefit the most from lying to you? Your mother, or myself?"
The child remained speechless, then gathered her legs against her chest, hiding her face into them. Odette let her be. She had not planned to be this harsh, but she couldn't let the girl keep on believing she was the very reason of her mother's unhappiness. Or that her mother never made mistakes.
She watched a bit more the show put on by her own protégée and the man she still couldn't place in a defined spot in her life book. At one point, the girl almost tripped and he caught her easily, before telling her something that had her nod timidly. His eyes went to their table, and he frowned upon seeing it empty. It took both quite some time to spot Odette eyeing carefully the musicians, obviously avoiding his stare.
"Odette!" Félicie called, a bit out of breath, running to her. "Did you see us? Did you see the Step Dancing?"
"I did," she smiled. "You have outdone yourself again, kid, well done."
"Louis taught me a lot! Er, I mean, Father taught me a lot," she grinned.
"You had good basics already," he said, eyeing Camille's prostrated form. "Are you quite alright Camille?"
A muttered yes was his only answer, and he looked back at Odette for an explanation.
"I think it's time to go back to the Opéra," the woman said, slowly standing with the help of her cane. "It has been a long day for some of us."
"Indeed," he admitted. "We may have gotten carried away. I will go pick up the tab, you three can wait outside," he added before leaving towards their table.
Félicie put a hand on Camille's shoulder but she brushed it off harshly.
"Leave me alone," she muttered while unfolding herself wearily.
She started right towards the exit and Félicie gave Odette a perplexed look.
"Stay with her," Odette advised her. "But don't annoy or touch her. We just talked and I gave her a lot to think about, so she might be acting quite angrily."
"What did you tell her?" The red-haired frowned.
"I will explain to you in a more private place," Odette shook her head. "For now, we must be there for Camille."
"Okay," Félicie muttered, not completely agreeing though.
Odette watched her run after her friend, then respectfully stay by her side calmly. At their table, Louis Mérante was talking with the waiter, nodding before handing him money. His vest on his arm and his hat in his hand, he grabbed his drink to gulp it down slowly. She joined him while he was finishing and did the same with her own.
"They didn't finish their plates," she noted sadly. "Neither did I, sorry."
"It's alright, they have pigs and chicken for that," he shook his head. "I know at least Félicie and you are not used to eating a lot at once."
"We are not," she admitted, regretfully looking at the chicken breast she couldn't finish.
His eyes went to her as she finished sipping on her glass.
"I need to apologize to you," she said, not looking away from him. "For earlier. I shouldn't have used your feelings like that. And I stand by what I said a few months earlier. I cannot let myself get distracted by anything other than Félicie, so marriage is out of the question."
"Distracted," He repeated a bit too calmly. "What do you mean by 'distracted', exactly?"
"I want to stand by myself," she tried to explain, before biting her lower lip, putting her glass down. "I… I have depended a lot on others, especially men, when I was a dancer. When I lost dance, I lost everything. I don't want to feel that ever again, and I don't want her to be in that situation either. I want to use my own strength, and not that of others. I never told you, but I am grateful for what you offered me, that position as a dance teacher, that room in the attic. But I need to find my own place now, because I don't want to depend on you any longer. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he murmured, looking at her with a stricken look. "Yes, I do very much."
Silence fell and she awkwardly moved her weight on her legs. He noticed.
"Let us leave, then," he suggested, giving her his arm again.
"Thank you," she said, taking it calmly. "And I am sorry for not fitting your expectations."
"I don't need to have expectations with you, Odette," he murmured. "You are surprising enough."
She raised her eyebrows, unable to find the right answer to that. He smiled at her as they were leaving, both bowing slightly towards the hosting waiter on the doorway.
The air was even cooler outside, and she felt the temperature difference acutely. The girls had crossed the street, looking at something on the ground and whispering. Camille's face was still tight but she looked calmer. As they neared them, Odette noticed the dead pigeon on the ground while Louis spotted their trembling frames.
"Come here," he said, opening his vest to cover them both from head to toe. "Don't run and don't let it touch the floor," he warned as they both looked at him with awestruck eyes.
"Uh," Félicie said. "Thank you, Father."
"You can drop the act now, Félicie," Odette informed her. "And get away from that dead pigeon. You did not touch it, right?"
"No," the red-haired protested, hesitatingly eyeing from below his vest, the man putting his hat on.
"Come on," Camille said impatiently, taking her hand to start walking down the street. "Do you know that poem, about two pigeons?" She added as an afterthought.
"I don't think so, why?"
"It's a story about the dangers of traveling far from your loved ones. My tutor made me learn it by heart. It begins like that: Two pigeons were passionately in love, but one of them left their nest…" Camille started declaiming.
"Oh God," Louis Mérante muttered, suddenly uneasy.
"What is it?" Odette murmured.
"Les Deux Pigeons is not really a good story for Félicie currently I believe," he observed, his brow furrowing. "Brace yourself for tears."
"It's just a fable," She frowned.
"A fable about one pigeon wanting to see the world, while his lover wants him to stay home, but the first one left eventually, and encounters a gaggle of troubles that leaves him half-dead. Not the best story after Victor's departure, I would say."
"Oh boy," Odette murmured, watching carefully the weird shape of the vest with both children under it.
"Should we stop them?"
"Too late," she replied as an horrified cry rose from the hunched silhouette.
They both sighted in unison.
Louis Mérante arrived on Monday morning with tensed legs. No doubt two of his students would be suffering as well today. He would show kindness this time, for it was mostly his idea to go to The Green Goose. The light was getting quite high already for 7 AM on a warm July day, he would have all the time needed to work on one of his choreographies, especially one passage that kept bugging the Troup. He had meant to talk about it with Odette on their Sunday session, but alas. He would have to fix that pas de trois by himself.
Maybe not today though. Under the Opéra's pillars, a long and green silhouette was standing in front of the Opéra's door. Her hair was dishevelled, she had quite some bags under her eyes and she was compulsively rumpling a piece of tissue. The Ballet Master recognized her immediately. Régine Lehaut had come to them, as Auguste had predicted.
"Madame Lehaut," he called calmly, making her startle and turn.
She was trembling a bit as well.
"Good morning," he said. "I am glad you are here, I needed to have a word with you."
"With me," she repeated dully, her voice a bit broken.
"Yes. Let me open the door and we will go to my office for more privacy," he suggested, getting his keys out.
"Certainly," she murmured in a faint voice.
He took her through the halls, keeping a close eye on her, noticing how her gaze kept darting left and right, looking for something, or rather someone.
"So," he said, closing the door of his office and indicating a chair. "Please take a seat Madame."
He would remain polite till the end of this.
"Something curious happened to me yesterday morning," he began on an even tone, leaning back against his own desk. "I was walking down the streets for a late breakfast when I came across something dirty, green and terrified."
She looked at him, frowning.
"It was your daughter, Madame."
She became even paler than she already was, and he took a few seconds to observe her reaction. She was a decent faker, but right now, she was clearly not faking that sweat, nor those shadows around her face. She was truly distressed.
"She is fine now. She slept, ate and washed at the Opéra. She must be sleeping right as we talk."
"Is she… What did she say?" She murmured, looking intensively at the carpet.
"Absolutely everything," he honestly answered. "I think she will have very sore legs for a while. I may have to take her off the Little Swans if she is hurting too much, by the way."
She didn't answer but he saw her lower lip tremble.
"Anyway," he sighted. "I thought I was very clear about Camille when she joined the Coryphées, didn't I? Do you remember what I said to you?"
"Yes," she whispered. "That I shouldn't be training her now that she had academy classes."
"Exactly. I am afraid this part of the bargain has not been respected recently. Actually, I am also wondering if you respected it at all."
She didn't answer either.
"So," he sighted again, finally moving to walk around his desk, taking out a sheet of paper from a drawer. "Since apparently we cannot deal with this amiably, I am going to go to the next step. Because Camille is a good dancer, and mostly, because she wants to keep dancing, I will create something special for her."
"Something special?" The woman had raised her eyes, suddenly curious, avidly curious.
"Yes. Very special," he pressed. "A special kind of contract," he added, sitting down and getting his feather pen.
"A… A contract?" She kept parroting his words, she really was not in her right mind.
"A working contract. Since Camille has turned twelve on January, she can legally be employed for work, here at the Opéra. She will be spending a maximum of eight hours a day working on ballet. As an employee, she will be offered food and sleeping arrangements if she needs them," he specified, writing down as he was speaking.
"I am not signing that," Madame Lehaut hissed. "I am not putting my daughter into child labour."
Louis Mérante raised his eyes to her and marked a beat.
"Oh no," he said, falsely sorry. "Forgive me, I haven't been clear enough. I am not proposing this contract to you. I am proposing it to Camille."
Her face froze and her lower lip trembled again.
"I have a lesson with Coryphées at 9 AM," he added, checking his watch. "I know where she is so I will go to her before that lesson and offer the contract. Of course, I will give her time to think upon it, and discuss it with you as well, if she wishes so."
Régine Lehaut stood suddenly and he stopped writing, giving her an inquisitive look.
"Yes?" He waited, but no word was coming out of her mouth. "Are you… leaving? Because you can if you want, I merely wanted to inform you about the contract, and that's done."
"I would like to see my daughter," the woman said haughtily, her hands squeezing what looked like a small visite between her hands.
"Ah, yes," he nodded. "Well, I will have someone get her for you then. I will just finish writing this first, if you will allow me. What's a few more minutes compared to those two nights the girl had to spend outside of her own home, after all," he said on a light tone, still writing.
She didn't answer but he heard her sudden breathing intake. That was an angry breath, for sure. Well, at least he was still polite.
Odette had awoken both girls around 7:30 AM, and made sure both were cleaned and dressed up before going down to the girls' locker room. They changed rapidly into their dancing clothes then trotted to Odette's classroom, where they stretched slowly with the teacher. They knew Odette had a barre class with the Troup at 8 AM, but the woman still insisted they took long enough to listen to their body and stretch profusely. After all, they did some strenuous sport last evening. At 7:50, Louis Mérante's head appeared from behind the curtain and calmly asked if he could speak to Camille.
Odette took the opportunity to also send Félicie to the Dining Hall as Troup members were beginning to fill the place one by one. The girl took her time through the corridors, and upon arriving to the almost empty room, went straight to the self-service table where a few toasts were left. She took two and poured herself a glass of water before going to a seat.
She nearly let her toasts slip from her hands when she found herself under Régine Lehaut's glare.
"Good morning, Félicie," Auguste Vaucorbeil said in his joyous usual voice.
He was sitting in front of the woman, drinking delicately some tea.
"Er," Félicie muttered, carefully depositing her toasts on her table. "Good morning, Director Vaucorbeil."
"You are just coming from your room, right?" He wondered aloud, and she nodded. "Have you seen Camille or Monsieur Mérante, by any chance? They were supposed to come down quite a moment ago, you see…"
"Hum," Félicie gulped. "I… Yes, Camille went with Monsieur Mérante a while ago. He said he needed to speak to her."
"I see," the director murmured, looking like he had eaten a lemon.
"Tell me where they went," Régine Lehaut asked sharply, suddenly standing.
"I don't know," Félicie shrugged. "I was stretching."
"Liar," the woman growled furiously, her hand lashing out to grab the girl, who quickly jumped out of her reach, but tripped over a chair while doing so.
"Madame!" The Director thundered, outraged. "They will be there shortly, I told you already!"
"Don't touch that child or I swear, I am taking you to the police straight way," another man's voice growled from the doorway.
Louis Mérante and Camille were slowly approaching, the first one definitely furious and the second one a bit apprehensive. Félicie got to her feet and glared at the woman.
Régine Lehaut had no qualm about her nor the Ballet Master. Her eyes kept roaming the blond girl timidly staying a step behind her teacher.
"Camille," she whispered, before seeming to wake up. "Camille, are you okay?"
"Yes, Mother," the girl said, hesitantly stepping forward.
"I have been extremely worried," the woman muttered, kneeling to check on the girl. "Why did you have to leave like that? I've looked for you everywhere in Paris last night, but you were nowhere to be found. Don't do that again, you hear me?"
"Sorry Mother," Camille murmured, nervously letting her Mother's hands touch her.
"Alright, you are already dressed for this morning class so I will leave now, but please, come at the restaurant when you are done okay?" Régine Lehaut was almost imploring her, and the girl was clearly confused by that, nodding slowly. "Alright, good. Well, make sure to eat breakfast before dancing."
"Don't you want to stay and wait for-" Auguste Vaucorbeil began.
"Good day, Madame," Louis Mérante cut him abruptly, never taking his eyes off her.
"Good day, Messieurs," she haughtily answered, slowly leaving the room after patting Camille's bun.
Silence fell, then Auguste Vaucorbeil cleared his throat, muttered a good day and left quickly after her. Félicie let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.
"Are you alright? Did she touch you?" Louis asked her, frowning.
"I'm too fast for her," the child grinned, retrieving a toast to hold it out for Camille. "Breakfast! It took this one for you."
"Thanks, " the child muttered, still troubled by the scene.
"Speaking about being too fast for Régine Lehaut," The Ballet Master frowned. "There is something I wanted you to answer, Félicie."
"Yeah?" The girl said, sitting down and grabbing her own toast. "You can get water from over here," she added to Camille, pointing at the self-service table.
"What did you mean by "she did that to you too" yesterday afternoon?"
Both girls gulped and gave him a wary look.
"We have forty-five minutes, I am listening intently," He informed them, taking a seat as well.