Fiend Angelical
The Monsieur Conducteur conductor was walking (rather grumpily, truth be told) towards the dressing room. He was accompanied by the rather sheepish musicians who had seen the girl.
Their music had been less then perfect that night (not that anyone of those clowns who attended noticed!) and it made Monsieur Conducteur angry. He had snapped when they had told him about the young girl waiting for him in the back. He demanded to know if any of them had heard her, and when the negative was given he had snapped even more. "Tell me, why should I waste my time on a whore's brat when my own orchestra sounds like a cat!"
To this they had no answer, other than that the poor thing was waiting, had been for some time. They gently persuaded him, and when they finally had him they still feared for the girl's health. suddenly stopped short, a hand cupped around his ear.
Their ears straining, they heard the sweetest, purest, beautiful music they'd ever heard.
Monsieur Conducteur's eyes were fairly bulging. He shoved the member of his orchestra aside and ran the rest of the way, following the sweet strains of music, and burst in the door.
The girl stopped immediately, and snapped to her feet. Her face was flushed, and her cheeks were a deep red. Her eyes stood out, huge and blue and sparkling. Her slightly wet hair was flaxen; and deeply and sweetly reminded Monsieur Conducteur of his first sweetheart. She was tall, sturdy and surprisingly beautiful.
"Were you the one playing that?" he breathed when he could, gesturing at the violin. She smiled, and it radiated happiness. "Yes." He found himself smiling back at her, something he rarely did. "Well, girl, what do you want?"
"My name's Kristina, and I'd like a place in your orchestra."
"Mademoiselle Kristina, for a violinist of such caliber there is always a place in my orchestra!" Her eyes grew wide with happiness, and she tried to express her gratitude. "Ah! Ah! Danke, You will sit in the first seat! Tomorrow is Sunday, and there is never any show on Sunday. You will begin rehearsal on Monday. In the meantime, Kristina, do you have anyplace to be?"
Her eyes broke from his, and they traced patterns over the ground. "Herr~ I mean, Monsiuer, I was wondering.would it be at all possible if I could stay here?" She looked up once, swiftly and then resumed staring at the apparently interesting floor. "That would be fine! Are you sure it would be warm enough?" Kristina resisted the urge to hop up and down, she was so thrilled. "Oh, oh thank you! Thank you so much! I promise I will work hard and even learn French, most beautiful of beautiful languages! Ach, danke!" Kristina was hugging her beloved Signor tightly to her chest, practically exploding with happiness.
Monsiuer laughed, and gently shut the door behind him. Kristina twirled around in her beautiful dress, in her beautiful room with her beautiful instrument and the beautiful Voice. "Oh, Signor, everything is going to be perfect! Perfect!" And she stopped and curtsied deeply, so low her nose brushed against the floor. "Thank you, Sir," she said gravely. The Voice was touched, but all He said was a simple "You're welcome."
The Monsieur Conducteur conductor was walking (rather grumpily, truth be told) towards the dressing room. He was accompanied by the rather sheepish musicians who had seen the girl.
Their music had been less then perfect that night (not that anyone of those clowns who attended noticed!) and it made Monsieur Conducteur angry. He had snapped when they had told him about the young girl waiting for him in the back. He demanded to know if any of them had heard her, and when the negative was given he had snapped even more. "Tell me, why should I waste my time on a whore's brat when my own orchestra sounds like a cat!"
To this they had no answer, other than that the poor thing was waiting, had been for some time. They gently persuaded him, and when they finally had him they still feared for the girl's health. suddenly stopped short, a hand cupped around his ear.
Their ears straining, they heard the sweetest, purest, beautiful music they'd ever heard.
Monsieur Conducteur's eyes were fairly bulging. He shoved the member of his orchestra aside and ran the rest of the way, following the sweet strains of music, and burst in the door.
The girl stopped immediately, and snapped to her feet. Her face was flushed, and her cheeks were a deep red. Her eyes stood out, huge and blue and sparkling. Her slightly wet hair was flaxen; and deeply and sweetly reminded Monsieur Conducteur of his first sweetheart. She was tall, sturdy and surprisingly beautiful.
"Were you the one playing that?" he breathed when he could, gesturing at the violin. She smiled, and it radiated happiness. "Yes." He found himself smiling back at her, something he rarely did. "Well, girl, what do you want?"
"My name's Kristina, and I'd like a place in your orchestra."
"Mademoiselle Kristina, for a violinist of such caliber there is always a place in my orchestra!" Her eyes grew wide with happiness, and she tried to express her gratitude. "Ah! Ah! Danke, You will sit in the first seat! Tomorrow is Sunday, and there is never any show on Sunday. You will begin rehearsal on Monday. In the meantime, Kristina, do you have anyplace to be?"
Her eyes broke from his, and they traced patterns over the ground. "Herr~ I mean, Monsiuer, I was wondering.would it be at all possible if I could stay here?" She looked up once, swiftly and then resumed staring at the apparently interesting floor. "That would be fine! Are you sure it would be warm enough?" Kristina resisted the urge to hop up and down, she was so thrilled. "Oh, oh thank you! Thank you so much! I promise I will work hard and even learn French, most beautiful of beautiful languages! Ach, danke!" Kristina was hugging her beloved Signor tightly to her chest, practically exploding with happiness.
Monsiuer laughed, and gently shut the door behind him. Kristina twirled around in her beautiful dress, in her beautiful room with her beautiful instrument and the beautiful Voice. "Oh, Signor, everything is going to be perfect! Perfect!" And she stopped and curtsied deeply, so low her nose brushed against the floor. "Thank you, Sir," she said gravely. The Voice was touched, but all He said was a simple "You're welcome."
