Beneath the Opera House: Accidents Happen
Phantom of the Opera fanfiction
immo - immo@hamena.org
Slowing down... need to... procrastinate leaving... school must start for creativity to flow! Procrastination in the
key to more stories from me! And review also! Keep'em coming! :D
~~~
"Did you hear?" The corps de ballet were abuzz with the news. "Did you hear?"
One of the stagehands, George, was found dead in the Paris Canal!
"They said he was wearing those wings from the night before!"
"Élise did it, I heard!"
"Non!"
"Oui!" One of the gossipy ones, a haughty young woman named Janice continued eagerly. "You saw how George
was upsetting her yesterday!"
"She wouldn't!"
"You know what they say, its always the quiet ones--"
"Shh, Danielle's here!"
"Danielle's here!"
The corps de ballet fell into uncustomary silence as Danielle walked into the room, and busied themselves
with warm-up exercises.
"Okay, what's going on?" Danielle dropped her bag down, and placed her hands on her hips, exasperated.
They all tried to blurt it out at the same time, but she caught enough of what was being said to feel the
smile drop from her face, and an icy anger grip her insides.
"That's enough, guys."
"Why?" Was Janice's reply to Danielle's warning. "Everyone knows she did it!"
"You're friends with her, Danielle, did the police go to her house last night?"
"Yeah, did they?"
"No..." Danielle's voice was slow, and even. She was trying so hard to keep a grip on her control. "They
didn't. And for the last time, drop the subject."
"The police probably did show up and Danielle's just being nice--"
Danielle's hand shooting out and catching the scruff of Janice's sweatshirt cut her off. "No. There was no
police. Élise did NOT do it. DROP THE SUBJECT. This is *me* being nice."
The whole room had fallen into stunned silence. Danielle was always the nice, easy to get along with girl.
"Girls, what's going on?!" Mme Rousseau had just entered the class. Danielle loosened her grip on Janice's
shirt.
"Nothing." Danielle wasn't eager to get Mme Rousseau involved. Janice was following on the same frame of
mind and echoed Danielle's explanation.
"I don't believe that." Mme Rousseau said after a moment's pause. "I want to see both of you in my office,
right now."
A murmur arose from the corps de ballet as the two girls left, following on the heels of Mme Rousseau.
The three made it to the office, and stood there, waiting. Mme Rousseau poured herself a cup of tea, before
rounding on her two dancers.
"Well? Would either one like to explain?" Her question was met with silence. "Well, that's fine. Pick up
your things, girls. You're taking the day off. I don't want to teach brawlers."
"But madam--!" Janice started, but was cut off by a sharp look from the ballet mistress.
"It was my fault, ma'am." Danielle said quietly.
"Pardon?"
"It was my fault. I started it." Danielle shrugged. "I was upset."
Mme Rousseau looked at her favorite student, for indeed, Danielle was her favorite student. Danielle never
picked a fight! She was always the most friendly girl in the corps! Well... she could see Danielle picking a fight,
but not without reason. But she couldn't show favoritism.
"Danielle, I'm sorry, but I think you should take the day off." Mme Rousseau's lips pressed together.
"Janice, you may go back to the others. I would like a word with Danielle alone."
Janice cast a glance at Danielle, and wished she hadn't when she met the dark-haired girl's furious gaze.
The ballerina hurried out the door, and away from the office.
"Now," Mme Rousseau motioned to the couch that sat in the corner of the room. "Tell me what happened,
Danielle."
"It was nothing, Mme Rousseau." The darkness in Danielle's eyes spoke volumes. The ballet mistress felt a
bit of fear, Danielle was rarely angry. And the only other times she had been like this was when she was defending
little Élise from the choir-girl, Kristin.
"It was Élise, wasn't it."
Danielle's eyes darted away from Mme Rousseau's, and she knew she had hit right on the mark.
"That girl, Danielle, is ruining your career as a dancer." Mme Rousseau crossed her arms, and leaned a hip
on her desk. "Lately I've been seeing you're distracted. And now I see why."
"You remember Anna, right?"
"Of course, she was a talented girl. Shame she had to stop."
"Élise is her little sister." Danielle shrugged. "Anna asked me to watch out for her. Élise loves the opera,
and she refuses to leave. The girl is like a sister to me, and I don't want her hurt. She wants to be a prima donna
one day, do you know? I don't ever want to tell her that her being here is a waste of time. She deserves her
dreams."
"What about your dreams, Danielle? I remember when you were very little, Mademoiselle Beauchamp. You always
wanted to be a dancer."
"Élise isn't holding me back." Danielle smiled wanely. "I don't even know if I really want to stick with
ballet, ma'am."
Mme Rousseau looked aghast. "Danielle, in all my years teaching here, I've never met anyone else with more
talent, more potential than you! You are made for dancing!"
"I think my dreams have changed, ma'am. I love dancing, and I'm pretty sure I will make a career out of it.
What I'm trying to say is, its not my number one priority anymore."
Mme Rousseau sighed. At least her star pupil wasn't leaving. But the fact that Danielle was putting ballet
second to something else was disturbing to her.
"May I ask what your number one priority is?"
Danielle opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Mme Rousseau, pardonnez-moi." The stagehand was in a state of agitation. "But there has been an accident.
One of your dancers--"
Both Danielle and Mme Rousseau shot out of their seats and followed the stagehand. Pandemonium reigned in
the hallways, and the ballerinas were all clustered around an area.
"Out of the way!" People parted for the ballet mistress and Danielle. Underneath a pile of old props, lay
Janice. Her arm was twisted in an odd angle above her head, and she looked around dazedly at the people surrounding
her. A plaster statue of Aphrodite had fallen on her, and though it was plaster, the 8 foot sculpture was still
quite heavy.
"Janice," Danielle knelt down and evaluated the situation. The bust was lying across the girl. She turned
around to look at the stagehands that were just arriving. "Girls, get back! Did someone call an ambulance?!"
"Oui!"
"Boys, boys!" Mme Rousseau caught John's arm, when he tried to move the statue off Janice. "Don't move it
too fast, it might hurt her even more! Janice, are you okay?!"
"Mme Rousseau..." Janice gasped in pain as the pressure on her body was lightened. The statue was lifted off
to the side. "A man..."
"What are you talking about girl?" Mme Rousseau looked up at the crowd, annoyed. "Quiet, all of you! I
cannot hear her!"
"There... was a person..." Janice looked around frantically. "He... he was there. And I asked him who was
there because... I couldn't see in the shadows."
Everybody was quiet as they listened.
"It was a man. He... laughed. And said something, I... and then he pushed the statue... he was wearing a
white mask..."
"You're saying this wasn't an accident?" Danielle said what was on everyone's mind, and a nervous murmur
arose from the crowd, until John's voice broke in.
"That's not possible." John shook his head. "I was right above you, Janice. On the catwalk, do you remember?
I said hello. But you didn't seem to hear me. And then the statue fell on you. I slid down one of these ropes, right
down to you--"
"Monsieur, you know you're not supposed to do that!" Mme Rousseau looked at John, scandalized. "You could
have been seriously hurt!"
"I'm sorry, madam, but I wanted to get down here as soon as possible." John apologized, then continued his
story. "There was no-one there, when Janice told me someone had pushed the statue, I looked around. No-one could
have slipped past me."
The hallways were long, and it was true. Anyone who tried to run from the scene would have been spotted.
"Maybe she saw one of these," A ballerina picked through the debris and held up a mask.
"Non," Janice shook her head, furiously, then cried out in pain at the motion. "Non, it was a man!"
"Nobody was here, madam, I swear to God, no-one was here!" John was not known for making up stories.
"Maybe it was a ghost!" One little ballerina tittered. "Maybe the opera is haunted!"
"There are no such things as ghosts!" Mme Rousseau scoffed. Just then, some poles at the end of the hallway
fell to the ground, causing everyone to jump and the girls to squeal in fright. No-one was near those poles. And
everyone suddenly felt the hairs on the back of their necks prickling. It was cold.
"There are no such things as ghosts." Danielle said loudly, and stood up, looking up and down the hallways.
There was no sound, and Danielle stood there, daring something to happen. But nothing did. The room's temperature
rose back up to normal, as sounds of footsteps hurried towards them. One of the managers of the opera and several
medics were heading their way.
"Ah, mon dieu!" The manager, Monsieur Antoine, clucked his tongue at the sight of Janice. "Quickly, we must
get her to the hospital!"
Everyone scattered away now, so that Janice could be transported away. They could still hear her, as they
wheeled her away.
"There was someone there! I wasn't seeing things! Someone was there!"
~~~
"Hey."
Anna looked up from the file she had been reading. There was Danielle, leaning against her car, with the
biggest shit-eating grin on her face.
"Danielle!" Squealing, she jumped into the other girl's arms, and the ballerina almost slid off Anna's car.
"Woah, woah." Danielle laughed, holding the other in a loose embrace. "I should visit you more often, you're
never this happy to see me."
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Opera House?" Anna's smile faded, and a trace of concern
entered her voice. "Is it Élise? Is she alright?"
"No, she's alright." Danielle reassured. "I just came to see you. Have you had dinner yet?"
"No."
"You go home and park your car, I'll follow you. Then I'll take you out for dinner, alright?" Danielle let
go of Anna and went around to her car.
After Anna parked her car at home, she got into Danielle's car, and smiled at the other woman. Danielle
pulled away from the curb, and catching Anna staring, smirked at her. "What?"
"Its just, we haven't gone out for dinner in a while."
Danielle's smirk softened into a smile. "I know." Then casually, "I missed you, you know?"
"You're blush-ing!" Anna teased.
"I'm not!" Danielle blushed some more.
Anna covered the hand Danielle was using to shift gears. "I missed you too, dummy."
~~~
"Once again, Mr Wagner, if you please."
"Of course, Signora." Igor Wagner played tirelessly.
Élise just sat there next to the man, watching Bianca Castafiore sing... and if Bianca Castafiore lacked
anything, it certainly wasn't power.
Again, it was late night practises. Élise just floated on the music. This, she was sure, was heaven. Well,
as close to heaven as she could get. She believed in angels, and she desperately, desperately needed to hold on to
that one belief.
"Do you sing, Élise?"
"Pardon, signora?" Élise shook herself out of her reverie.
"I asked you, child, do you sing?" Signora Castafiore smiled at Élise dotingly. "You have a beautiful voice.
Sing this chorus for me, would you not?"
"I-I can't sing, signora." Élise blushed. "I don't have the voice."
"Who told you that?" Castafiore scoffed. "I would consider myself a good judge of a voice. I have heard you
humming some bars of Faust, and I know you're not tone-deaf. Come, come, don't be shy! Sing for me!"
Élise slid off the piano bench, and looked over at Igor shyly.
"Go ahead." Igor encouraged. "Two bars introduction enough, Élise?"
"Yessir."
"The Jewel Song, mademoiselle." Bianca Castafiore urged.
Élise waited for her opening, and missed it. Blushing she murmured an apology and sat back down.
"No shyness, girl!" Castafiore yanked her back up. "I want to hear you sing! Mr Wagner, once again!"
This time, Élise found her opening just right, and put her heart into singing for the Milanese Nightingale.
She sang with all her might, and when she was done, the prima donna was nodding her head in pleasure.
"You sing very prettily, you voice is good. But..." Bianca placed her hand on Élise's abdomen. "You see
right here? You use your lungs to sing, and only your lungs. Your diaphragm is where you should be singing from."
"I've never had lessons, signora." Élise admitted grudgingly.
"A voice like yours?" Bianca tsked. "Its a shame."
"I can't afford it, signora."
"We will have to remedy that, my dear." Bianca smiled at her. "That's enough for today, child. We can all go
home and rest."
"See you tomorrow!" Élise smiled and waved. She was alone on stage again. Looking up to make sure none of
the stagehands were around, she opened her mouth to call out for her angel, but shut her mouth at once. All the
doubts that Kristin had put in her flooded back, and she bit her lip in consternation. But Sean's words shone,
through, and she got up the courage to call out.
"Angel?"
The lights flickered.
"I am glad to see, that you have not lost faith." The voice was there again. "I am glad."
"I believe in you, monsieur, I do."
"You do, I believe you do." Élise could sense a hint of a smile in the voice. "I will teach you, Élise
Chagny. You will be a gift to the world. You will suffer for your art, though. I taught someone once, Élise. They
disappointed me. You must deny yourself a life that's normal to be my voice. Could you do that?"
"I could." Élise said without hesitation.
"We shall see. I will see you, every morning at eight o'clock for two hours. You will meet me in the room at
the end of the hallway, and we will train your voice."
"The one they found me in," Élise remembered Danielle telling her how they had found her in a storage room.
"In the storage room?"
"It was once the dressing room my past pupil. It has fallen to disuse." His voice was firm. "Soon, I will
make it so the room is fit for you. Now go, child. You have a long day tomorrow."
Phantom of the Opera fanfiction
immo - immo@hamena.org
Slowing down... need to... procrastinate leaving... school must start for creativity to flow! Procrastination in the
key to more stories from me! And review also! Keep'em coming! :D
~~~
"Did you hear?" The corps de ballet were abuzz with the news. "Did you hear?"
One of the stagehands, George, was found dead in the Paris Canal!
"They said he was wearing those wings from the night before!"
"Élise did it, I heard!"
"Non!"
"Oui!" One of the gossipy ones, a haughty young woman named Janice continued eagerly. "You saw how George
was upsetting her yesterday!"
"She wouldn't!"
"You know what they say, its always the quiet ones--"
"Shh, Danielle's here!"
"Danielle's here!"
The corps de ballet fell into uncustomary silence as Danielle walked into the room, and busied themselves
with warm-up exercises.
"Okay, what's going on?" Danielle dropped her bag down, and placed her hands on her hips, exasperated.
They all tried to blurt it out at the same time, but she caught enough of what was being said to feel the
smile drop from her face, and an icy anger grip her insides.
"That's enough, guys."
"Why?" Was Janice's reply to Danielle's warning. "Everyone knows she did it!"
"You're friends with her, Danielle, did the police go to her house last night?"
"Yeah, did they?"
"No..." Danielle's voice was slow, and even. She was trying so hard to keep a grip on her control. "They
didn't. And for the last time, drop the subject."
"The police probably did show up and Danielle's just being nice--"
Danielle's hand shooting out and catching the scruff of Janice's sweatshirt cut her off. "No. There was no
police. Élise did NOT do it. DROP THE SUBJECT. This is *me* being nice."
The whole room had fallen into stunned silence. Danielle was always the nice, easy to get along with girl.
"Girls, what's going on?!" Mme Rousseau had just entered the class. Danielle loosened her grip on Janice's
shirt.
"Nothing." Danielle wasn't eager to get Mme Rousseau involved. Janice was following on the same frame of
mind and echoed Danielle's explanation.
"I don't believe that." Mme Rousseau said after a moment's pause. "I want to see both of you in my office,
right now."
A murmur arose from the corps de ballet as the two girls left, following on the heels of Mme Rousseau.
The three made it to the office, and stood there, waiting. Mme Rousseau poured herself a cup of tea, before
rounding on her two dancers.
"Well? Would either one like to explain?" Her question was met with silence. "Well, that's fine. Pick up
your things, girls. You're taking the day off. I don't want to teach brawlers."
"But madam--!" Janice started, but was cut off by a sharp look from the ballet mistress.
"It was my fault, ma'am." Danielle said quietly.
"Pardon?"
"It was my fault. I started it." Danielle shrugged. "I was upset."
Mme Rousseau looked at her favorite student, for indeed, Danielle was her favorite student. Danielle never
picked a fight! She was always the most friendly girl in the corps! Well... she could see Danielle picking a fight,
but not without reason. But she couldn't show favoritism.
"Danielle, I'm sorry, but I think you should take the day off." Mme Rousseau's lips pressed together.
"Janice, you may go back to the others. I would like a word with Danielle alone."
Janice cast a glance at Danielle, and wished she hadn't when she met the dark-haired girl's furious gaze.
The ballerina hurried out the door, and away from the office.
"Now," Mme Rousseau motioned to the couch that sat in the corner of the room. "Tell me what happened,
Danielle."
"It was nothing, Mme Rousseau." The darkness in Danielle's eyes spoke volumes. The ballet mistress felt a
bit of fear, Danielle was rarely angry. And the only other times she had been like this was when she was defending
little Élise from the choir-girl, Kristin.
"It was Élise, wasn't it."
Danielle's eyes darted away from Mme Rousseau's, and she knew she had hit right on the mark.
"That girl, Danielle, is ruining your career as a dancer." Mme Rousseau crossed her arms, and leaned a hip
on her desk. "Lately I've been seeing you're distracted. And now I see why."
"You remember Anna, right?"
"Of course, she was a talented girl. Shame she had to stop."
"Élise is her little sister." Danielle shrugged. "Anna asked me to watch out for her. Élise loves the opera,
and she refuses to leave. The girl is like a sister to me, and I don't want her hurt. She wants to be a prima donna
one day, do you know? I don't ever want to tell her that her being here is a waste of time. She deserves her
dreams."
"What about your dreams, Danielle? I remember when you were very little, Mademoiselle Beauchamp. You always
wanted to be a dancer."
"Élise isn't holding me back." Danielle smiled wanely. "I don't even know if I really want to stick with
ballet, ma'am."
Mme Rousseau looked aghast. "Danielle, in all my years teaching here, I've never met anyone else with more
talent, more potential than you! You are made for dancing!"
"I think my dreams have changed, ma'am. I love dancing, and I'm pretty sure I will make a career out of it.
What I'm trying to say is, its not my number one priority anymore."
Mme Rousseau sighed. At least her star pupil wasn't leaving. But the fact that Danielle was putting ballet
second to something else was disturbing to her.
"May I ask what your number one priority is?"
Danielle opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Mme Rousseau, pardonnez-moi." The stagehand was in a state of agitation. "But there has been an accident.
One of your dancers--"
Both Danielle and Mme Rousseau shot out of their seats and followed the stagehand. Pandemonium reigned in
the hallways, and the ballerinas were all clustered around an area.
"Out of the way!" People parted for the ballet mistress and Danielle. Underneath a pile of old props, lay
Janice. Her arm was twisted in an odd angle above her head, and she looked around dazedly at the people surrounding
her. A plaster statue of Aphrodite had fallen on her, and though it was plaster, the 8 foot sculpture was still
quite heavy.
"Janice," Danielle knelt down and evaluated the situation. The bust was lying across the girl. She turned
around to look at the stagehands that were just arriving. "Girls, get back! Did someone call an ambulance?!"
"Oui!"
"Boys, boys!" Mme Rousseau caught John's arm, when he tried to move the statue off Janice. "Don't move it
too fast, it might hurt her even more! Janice, are you okay?!"
"Mme Rousseau..." Janice gasped in pain as the pressure on her body was lightened. The statue was lifted off
to the side. "A man..."
"What are you talking about girl?" Mme Rousseau looked up at the crowd, annoyed. "Quiet, all of you! I
cannot hear her!"
"There... was a person..." Janice looked around frantically. "He... he was there. And I asked him who was
there because... I couldn't see in the shadows."
Everybody was quiet as they listened.
"It was a man. He... laughed. And said something, I... and then he pushed the statue... he was wearing a
white mask..."
"You're saying this wasn't an accident?" Danielle said what was on everyone's mind, and a nervous murmur
arose from the crowd, until John's voice broke in.
"That's not possible." John shook his head. "I was right above you, Janice. On the catwalk, do you remember?
I said hello. But you didn't seem to hear me. And then the statue fell on you. I slid down one of these ropes, right
down to you--"
"Monsieur, you know you're not supposed to do that!" Mme Rousseau looked at John, scandalized. "You could
have been seriously hurt!"
"I'm sorry, madam, but I wanted to get down here as soon as possible." John apologized, then continued his
story. "There was no-one there, when Janice told me someone had pushed the statue, I looked around. No-one could
have slipped past me."
The hallways were long, and it was true. Anyone who tried to run from the scene would have been spotted.
"Maybe she saw one of these," A ballerina picked through the debris and held up a mask.
"Non," Janice shook her head, furiously, then cried out in pain at the motion. "Non, it was a man!"
"Nobody was here, madam, I swear to God, no-one was here!" John was not known for making up stories.
"Maybe it was a ghost!" One little ballerina tittered. "Maybe the opera is haunted!"
"There are no such things as ghosts!" Mme Rousseau scoffed. Just then, some poles at the end of the hallway
fell to the ground, causing everyone to jump and the girls to squeal in fright. No-one was near those poles. And
everyone suddenly felt the hairs on the back of their necks prickling. It was cold.
"There are no such things as ghosts." Danielle said loudly, and stood up, looking up and down the hallways.
There was no sound, and Danielle stood there, daring something to happen. But nothing did. The room's temperature
rose back up to normal, as sounds of footsteps hurried towards them. One of the managers of the opera and several
medics were heading their way.
"Ah, mon dieu!" The manager, Monsieur Antoine, clucked his tongue at the sight of Janice. "Quickly, we must
get her to the hospital!"
Everyone scattered away now, so that Janice could be transported away. They could still hear her, as they
wheeled her away.
"There was someone there! I wasn't seeing things! Someone was there!"
~~~
"Hey."
Anna looked up from the file she had been reading. There was Danielle, leaning against her car, with the
biggest shit-eating grin on her face.
"Danielle!" Squealing, she jumped into the other girl's arms, and the ballerina almost slid off Anna's car.
"Woah, woah." Danielle laughed, holding the other in a loose embrace. "I should visit you more often, you're
never this happy to see me."
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the Opera House?" Anna's smile faded, and a trace of concern
entered her voice. "Is it Élise? Is she alright?"
"No, she's alright." Danielle reassured. "I just came to see you. Have you had dinner yet?"
"No."
"You go home and park your car, I'll follow you. Then I'll take you out for dinner, alright?" Danielle let
go of Anna and went around to her car.
After Anna parked her car at home, she got into Danielle's car, and smiled at the other woman. Danielle
pulled away from the curb, and catching Anna staring, smirked at her. "What?"
"Its just, we haven't gone out for dinner in a while."
Danielle's smirk softened into a smile. "I know." Then casually, "I missed you, you know?"
"You're blush-ing!" Anna teased.
"I'm not!" Danielle blushed some more.
Anna covered the hand Danielle was using to shift gears. "I missed you too, dummy."
~~~
"Once again, Mr Wagner, if you please."
"Of course, Signora." Igor Wagner played tirelessly.
Élise just sat there next to the man, watching Bianca Castafiore sing... and if Bianca Castafiore lacked
anything, it certainly wasn't power.
Again, it was late night practises. Élise just floated on the music. This, she was sure, was heaven. Well,
as close to heaven as she could get. She believed in angels, and she desperately, desperately needed to hold on to
that one belief.
"Do you sing, Élise?"
"Pardon, signora?" Élise shook herself out of her reverie.
"I asked you, child, do you sing?" Signora Castafiore smiled at Élise dotingly. "You have a beautiful voice.
Sing this chorus for me, would you not?"
"I-I can't sing, signora." Élise blushed. "I don't have the voice."
"Who told you that?" Castafiore scoffed. "I would consider myself a good judge of a voice. I have heard you
humming some bars of Faust, and I know you're not tone-deaf. Come, come, don't be shy! Sing for me!"
Élise slid off the piano bench, and looked over at Igor shyly.
"Go ahead." Igor encouraged. "Two bars introduction enough, Élise?"
"Yessir."
"The Jewel Song, mademoiselle." Bianca Castafiore urged.
Élise waited for her opening, and missed it. Blushing she murmured an apology and sat back down.
"No shyness, girl!" Castafiore yanked her back up. "I want to hear you sing! Mr Wagner, once again!"
This time, Élise found her opening just right, and put her heart into singing for the Milanese Nightingale.
She sang with all her might, and when she was done, the prima donna was nodding her head in pleasure.
"You sing very prettily, you voice is good. But..." Bianca placed her hand on Élise's abdomen. "You see
right here? You use your lungs to sing, and only your lungs. Your diaphragm is where you should be singing from."
"I've never had lessons, signora." Élise admitted grudgingly.
"A voice like yours?" Bianca tsked. "Its a shame."
"I can't afford it, signora."
"We will have to remedy that, my dear." Bianca smiled at her. "That's enough for today, child. We can all go
home and rest."
"See you tomorrow!" Élise smiled and waved. She was alone on stage again. Looking up to make sure none of
the stagehands were around, she opened her mouth to call out for her angel, but shut her mouth at once. All the
doubts that Kristin had put in her flooded back, and she bit her lip in consternation. But Sean's words shone,
through, and she got up the courage to call out.
"Angel?"
The lights flickered.
"I am glad to see, that you have not lost faith." The voice was there again. "I am glad."
"I believe in you, monsieur, I do."
"You do, I believe you do." Élise could sense a hint of a smile in the voice. "I will teach you, Élise
Chagny. You will be a gift to the world. You will suffer for your art, though. I taught someone once, Élise. They
disappointed me. You must deny yourself a life that's normal to be my voice. Could you do that?"
"I could." Élise said without hesitation.
"We shall see. I will see you, every morning at eight o'clock for two hours. You will meet me in the room at
the end of the hallway, and we will train your voice."
"The one they found me in," Élise remembered Danielle telling her how they had found her in a storage room.
"In the storage room?"
"It was once the dressing room my past pupil. It has fallen to disuse." His voice was firm. "Soon, I will
make it so the room is fit for you. Now go, child. You have a long day tomorrow."