Chapter 12
Yulia tapped her pen on her tiny desk. While she had managed to write a rather long apology for her ill-thought-out comments, she still had not managed to find a way to phrase an apology for gasping at the sight of the ghost's face. It wasn't that it really bothered her, it just was not what she had been expecting to see. In any case, it at least explained his strange living habits.
She sighed. Finally, since she couldn't resist, she penned as follows:
Do not worry about what other men deem the value of your appearance; I swear to you, you look like a diamond shining next to the coal that is the tsar and his illusionary reforms!
Yulia grinned. Somehow, she doubted that Erik would that a woman was expressing a political opinion.
She paused as she went to sign her name. She had told him that he could be more familiar.
Deftly, she signed her name "Yulka."
Refusing to look at her signature, she folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. She then went about removing the heavy masquerade make- up and fell asleep.
"Mlle. Kazakova! You're late!"
"I'm sorry, sirs!" Yulia said as she scurried up to the managers.
"This is yours," M. Andre said, handing her a score.
"Excuse me?"
"It's the ghost's opera; you're in the chorus," M. Firmin said.
Yulia paged through Erik's Don Juan Triumphant. "I can't sing this," she said quietly.
"Mademoiselle?"
"I can't sing this! I'm sorry, messieurs, but I most deliver a letter."
"Ha! The little rat thinks she's too good to sing with us!" Carlotta declared.
"Leave her alone," Christine said meekly.
"Perhaps you don't understand, mademoiselle, but this…work is very important to this establishment. Either you sing with us, or your career here will be over," M. Firmin said.
Yulia stiffened. "I shall sing," she said slowly.
Yulia fell on the divan of her dressing the next day, exhausted.
"A wonderful New Year, indeed," she muttered.
"Your apology is accepted, Yulia Alexandrovna."
The girl bolted upright. "Don't scare me like that!"
"My apologies, mademoiselle."
Yulia bit her lip. "Why are you having Christine sing Aminta? I'm not saying she can't sing it, but it's not like her at all…"
"Would you prefer La Carlotta sing it?" he asked ruefully.
Yulia glared at the wall. Agitated, she sang, "'In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent.' M. Erik, you know how innocent and childlike she is! It's just not right to have her sing it…"
"You're questioning my casting?" he demanded.
"Your casting? You mean…oh, please, don't make me perform in this! It's an assault on the senses!"
"Are you criticizing my life's work, Yulia Alexandrovna?"
"You're making a mockery of yourself! And it's cruel to have Daaé sing it! You're using her!"
He sighed. "Stop questioning me, child. Your life would be much simpler if you would just do as say for a short time. I promise you, this will all be over soon, one way or another."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't fret; it does not concern you."
"M. Erik, please, understand that I respect you, but sometimes you do the most inexplicable things, and I'm incline to agree with the others that you're a madman in those moments, but, at other times…I don't know what to think of you."
"Don't waste your thoughts on me."
"You should stop hiding," Yulia said, more to herself than to Erik. "You should stop hiding and walk out side like everyone else, without the mask. You could expose the ignorant ones for what they are…it would be a most delightful spectacle."
"You really don't understand people, do you, Yulia Alexandrovna?" he asked sadly.
"No," she replied. "Do you?"
The rehearsals continued at a grueling pace for three weeks, until Christine announced that she had to take a short trip. The managers weren't particularly pleased, but there was little they could do.
Yulia refused to question Daaé about her mysterious trip, and instead spent her time lamenting that whatever relationship she had hoped to establish with the strange phantom was rapidly deteriorating. Added to that was her growing guilt about hurting either Raoul or Christine. She resolved that if her plot was to reach its ultimate conclusion she would have to act quickly, ignoring that fact that her past rash decisions had done her little good.
Yulia tapped her pen on her tiny desk. While she had managed to write a rather long apology for her ill-thought-out comments, she still had not managed to find a way to phrase an apology for gasping at the sight of the ghost's face. It wasn't that it really bothered her, it just was not what she had been expecting to see. In any case, it at least explained his strange living habits.
She sighed. Finally, since she couldn't resist, she penned as follows:
Do not worry about what other men deem the value of your appearance; I swear to you, you look like a diamond shining next to the coal that is the tsar and his illusionary reforms!
Yulia grinned. Somehow, she doubted that Erik would that a woman was expressing a political opinion.
She paused as she went to sign her name. She had told him that he could be more familiar.
Deftly, she signed her name "Yulka."
Refusing to look at her signature, she folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. She then went about removing the heavy masquerade make- up and fell asleep.
"Mlle. Kazakova! You're late!"
"I'm sorry, sirs!" Yulia said as she scurried up to the managers.
"This is yours," M. Andre said, handing her a score.
"Excuse me?"
"It's the ghost's opera; you're in the chorus," M. Firmin said.
Yulia paged through Erik's Don Juan Triumphant. "I can't sing this," she said quietly.
"Mademoiselle?"
"I can't sing this! I'm sorry, messieurs, but I most deliver a letter."
"Ha! The little rat thinks she's too good to sing with us!" Carlotta declared.
"Leave her alone," Christine said meekly.
"Perhaps you don't understand, mademoiselle, but this…work is very important to this establishment. Either you sing with us, or your career here will be over," M. Firmin said.
Yulia stiffened. "I shall sing," she said slowly.
Yulia fell on the divan of her dressing the next day, exhausted.
"A wonderful New Year, indeed," she muttered.
"Your apology is accepted, Yulia Alexandrovna."
The girl bolted upright. "Don't scare me like that!"
"My apologies, mademoiselle."
Yulia bit her lip. "Why are you having Christine sing Aminta? I'm not saying she can't sing it, but it's not like her at all…"
"Would you prefer La Carlotta sing it?" he asked ruefully.
Yulia glared at the wall. Agitated, she sang, "'In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent.' M. Erik, you know how innocent and childlike she is! It's just not right to have her sing it…"
"You're questioning my casting?" he demanded.
"Your casting? You mean…oh, please, don't make me perform in this! It's an assault on the senses!"
"Are you criticizing my life's work, Yulia Alexandrovna?"
"You're making a mockery of yourself! And it's cruel to have Daaé sing it! You're using her!"
He sighed. "Stop questioning me, child. Your life would be much simpler if you would just do as say for a short time. I promise you, this will all be over soon, one way or another."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't fret; it does not concern you."
"M. Erik, please, understand that I respect you, but sometimes you do the most inexplicable things, and I'm incline to agree with the others that you're a madman in those moments, but, at other times…I don't know what to think of you."
"Don't waste your thoughts on me."
"You should stop hiding," Yulia said, more to herself than to Erik. "You should stop hiding and walk out side like everyone else, without the mask. You could expose the ignorant ones for what they are…it would be a most delightful spectacle."
"You really don't understand people, do you, Yulia Alexandrovna?" he asked sadly.
"No," she replied. "Do you?"
The rehearsals continued at a grueling pace for three weeks, until Christine announced that she had to take a short trip. The managers weren't particularly pleased, but there was little they could do.
Yulia refused to question Daaé about her mysterious trip, and instead spent her time lamenting that whatever relationship she had hoped to establish with the strange phantom was rapidly deteriorating. Added to that was her growing guilt about hurting either Raoul or Christine. She resolved that if her plot was to reach its ultimate conclusion she would have to act quickly, ignoring that fact that her past rash decisions had done her little good.