Disclaimer – See first chapter.
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Anyone who knows me will tell you that I love the theatre. I could sit for hours on end and watch the most trite garbage that ever passed as entertainment and go home with a smile on my face. Unlike any other playgoer, my bum never gets tired, my hands do not get sore from clapping, and I have no shame at all when it comes to crying or laughing.
It all changed that night. After Spectacular-Spectacular, I never went to another play ever again.
Satine was marvelous. No one who did not know she was sick would ever have guessed that her lungs were disintegrating as each golden note flowed from her lips. The dancers knew, the orchestra knew, even the stagehands knew. In consequence, the performance was flawless. Every one of them put their soul into the show – not one dance step was off, not one note was sour, and not one line was wrong. Even the Argentinean stayed awake. I was duly impressed, but my heart was in agony, for where was my darling Christian?
I had just begun to think that Satine had succeeded in keeping him away, when Zidler began his final speech about marrying the courtesan, my keen ears picked up voices backstage. Naturally none of the audience could hear them, but Christian's voice, gone high and raspy when he was upset, was quite clear to me. The words could not carry over the orchestra or Harold's voice, and I was about to leave my seat and go confront the two of them when the door at center stage opened.
There, for the entire world to see, were Christian and Satine, their faces awash with tears, their eyes radiating anguish. For the first time in my five hundred years of twilight existence I wished that the creature that had made me had killed me. It was I who had manipulated their lives to bring them together, and it was I who had left them to fend for themselves. If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, then not only was hell my destination, but the road was going to be well paved indeed.
And then Christian, damn his eyes, went and made it worse.
Dragging Satine down the stage by her wrists he flung her down and turned – not Zidler as the audience would think – but as I could see, to the Duke, who sat across the aisle from me. "This woman is yours now. I've paid my whore!" He snarled, tossing down the handful of bills he carried. "I owe you nothing, and you are nothing to me!" This statement started as a hiss, but ended almost as a sob. And he couldn't hold it together after that as sobs interrupted his parting statement, "T-thank you for c-curing me of my rid-d-diculous obsession with l-love!" He turned away from her and hurried down the steps, pausing to stare for a moment at the Duke with an expression of mingled disgust and disbelief. Then he set his jaw and walked down the aisle, not even noticing me.
My gaze being riveted to him, I didn't notice Zidler rushing forward to Satine, or catch what he said to her until they stood. "This sitar player doesn't love you! See he flees the kingdom!" She was shuddering and shaking her head, and I again wondered how she was staying on her feet. "And now my bride, it is time to raise your voice to the heavens, and say your wedding vows."
And that might have been the end of it, but from behind the curtain there was a strange rushing sound, which I identified as sliding rope. An odd little voice that could only come from Toulouse echoed through the house. "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love - and be loved – in return!"
This amazing declaration seemed to give Satine a new strength and she squared her shoulders and somehow drew in a deep breath, turning hesitantly to sing over her shoulder, "Never knew, I could feel like this…its like I've never seen the sky before…" As she sang, amazingly enough, her voice seemed to grow stronger. Again I felt the cold stab of the realization of my failure – here was a love that could truly live forever, and a few days of closer attention would have saved it. "Want to vanish inside your kiss, every day I'm lovin' you more and more." Now she faced the audience completely and her tears dried as her voice gained potency. "Listen to my heart, can't you hear it sing? Come back to me – and FORGIVE EVERYTHING!" The last echoed through the room with a vibrant power, ending on a gasp as for an instant she lost her breath. "Seasons may change, winter to spring…I love you…'til the end of time." She ended it quietly, but with no less force.
And then, softly, but with no less power, from half-way down the aisle came the reply, "Come what may…come what may…Come what may…come what may…I will love you, until my dying day!" He finished it up beside her, taking her in his arms and pressing his forehead to hers. She echoed his song and their voices melded beautifully. As I watched, glorying in their reconciliation, I racked my brain, trying to think of a way to save her and thus, both of them.
Then, pandemonium erupted on the stage.