OPERAREALM
Chapter V
Roza felt like Cinderella as she rode in the beautiful white, horse-drawn carriage and gazed out at the beautiful St. Petersburg evening. A sea of other equally elegant carriages rode on either side of her and brilliant fireworks lit the star-filled sky. Palina told her that this was the first clear evening St. Petersburg had seen in a very long time and that she did not expect it to happen again soon as it was late autumn and winters here were extremely long and fierce. Roza noted that every time the fireworks lit up the night, they revealed a frozen, snowy ground. They crossed the Neva, without a doubt the coldest, blackest, most mysterious river Roza had ever seen. She knew that they were quite close to their destination as she remembered from her reading of Pushkin that the Gremin's mansion was near the Neva. She could barely suppress her extreme elation. Especially when the carriage stopped before an immense, beautifully lit stone mansion where already dozens upon dozens of carriages were parked. She had reached the ball of her dreams at last.
Several couples in colorful costumes, some sporting glittering masks, walked through the gate and greeted old friends and acquaintances in the magnificent marble hall. Roza recognized the Puccinians: Mimi, Rodolfo, Musetta, Marcello, Schaunard, Colline, Magda (along with sidekicks Yvette, Bianca, and Suzy), Ruggero, Lisette, Prunier, Tosca, Cavaradossi, (as well as several others she assumed were from his other operas) immediately and they greeted her.
"Absolutely charming," Tosca said, admiring Roza's sapphire gown. Tosca herself was clad in an exceptionally stunning bright scarlet one with a long train, leaving no one in doubt as to her occupation as an opera diva.
"Gorgeous beyond gorgeous!" gushed Magda in her elegant peach satin.
"Grazie," Roza responded graciously, as she watched Tosca and Cavaradossi and Magda and Ruggero walk in arm and arm. Oh, to have a love like that! Roza thought suddenly with a great sigh.
"Roza, dear, are you okay?" came a familiar female voice on her right. It was Alexandra in a elegant 18th Century pale green silk.
"Yes, I'm fine." Roza replied curtly.
"I understand you, Roza," said Alexandra looking at her intently. "Do take heart, I'm sure you'll find your great love before the night's out!"
Roza blushed. "But that is not what I am here for! This a social function--convenient because I get to meet so many characters. This is very crucial inspiration for my work."
"Yes it is, indeed," agreed Alexandra, but her smile was sly. "Then if you value your work as much as I did once, then I advise you to be on your guard. For this is the sort of place where the unexpected happens. This is the very occasion which started my whole ordeal. Come to think of it, this very place as well...for St. Petersburg was hosting the Operarealm ball that season as well..."
"Reminiscing, my darling?" came a rich male voice from behind Alexandra. It was Prince Yeletsky.
"Da," said Alexandra smilingly lovingly at her husband as he took her side. "Dearest, this is my friend, Roza, she comes from the land of Reality."
Yeletsky bowed. "Then I am very pleased to meet you. Alexandra came from Reality, and she is truly an angel."
Alexandra took Yeletsky's arm lovingly and they walked to the ballroom where the Polonaise from Tchaikovsky's Yevgeny Onegin had just begun to play. The orchestra echoed heavenly from the ornate ballroom where Roza could see that several couples were already dancing.
"Roza!" called Ännchen, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. "What are you doing standing out here all by yourself? Come in and join the party!" and she took Roza by the arm and led her towards the ballroom. "There are many people inside who are anxious to meet you." And indeed, just inside there was a huge congregation of Mozartians, and characters from the operas by Richard Strauss, von Weber, Beethoven's Fidelio, and the operettas by J. Strauss and Lehar, all of whom seemed to remain together. It did make sense to Roza, for after all they were all from German-speaking countries. She met among others, Konstanze and Belmonte from Die Entfuhrung aus dem Serail, Il Conte and La Contessa from Le Nozze di Figaro, Susanna, Cherubino, Figaro (who was currently conversing with Rossini's Figaro), Fioridiligi, Dorabella, Despina, from Cosi fan Tutte, Sandrina and Serpetta from La Finta Giardiniera, Donna Anna, Don Ottavio, Donna Elvira, Zerlina, Masetto (all of whom knew not were the title character from Don Giovanni was at the moment, Elvira remarked bitterly "that he was most likely adding more names to that disgusting catalogue of his"), as well as the Marschallin, Octavian, Sophie, Baron Ochs, from Der Rosenkavalier, and Arabella and Mandryka from Arabella. The room was packed full of characters! There were circles representing operatic turn-outs from Monteverdi, Lully, Handel, Gluck, Mozart, Schubert, Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, Verdi, Gounod, Massenet, Delibes, Saint-Saens, Dvorak, Janacek, Smetana, Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, Borodin, Glinka, Prokofiev, Rachmaninov, Leonvacallo, Mascagni, Puccini, Strauss, Debussy, Ravel, Poulenc, Berg, Floyd, Copland, Menotti, Moore, and even operas and composers, that she, Roza had not even heard of!
When the lush orchestra began playing the Polonaise from Dvorak's Rusalka, Roza spotted Rusalka herself in a far corner, speaking to a lovely dark-haired lady in Czech, whom she soon learned was Marenka from Smetana's ProdanĂ¡ Nevesta. Rusalka had long, cascading flaxen golden hair and wore a long turquoise gown which shimmered when it hit the light. She looked gorgeous, but terribly unhappy. It was obvious that Marenka was trying very hard to cheer her up. The reason for Rusalka's distress became evident, for the tall dark-haired gentleman that Roza recognized as Rusalka's beloved Prince was across the room at the punch bowl, flirting wickedly with the unnamed foreign princess. Roza wanted to confront both of them for causing the sweet, loving Rusalka so much grief. If the Polonaise hadn't ended just then and hadn't a few couples come off the dance floor blocking them from her view, Roza might have done just that.
The orchestra began to play a succession of Strauss waltzes. The German-speaking crew were obviously very pleased by this, for they let out cries of delight and took to the floor. When that huge mass cleared out, Roza suddenly saw her standing there. In an exquisite gown of ivory and red velvet and silk with an extensive train, was the Princess Gremina--Tatyana herself--the lady that Roza was most anxious to meet. She was slender and graceful, yet ample, and had very dark hair worn in a most elegant up-style. Her pallor was pale, and her eyes, large, dark and profoundly sad, as if from years of suffering. However, none of this was betrayed in the great grandeur and dignity that she had about herself. She truly was royalty. When her eyes met Roza's, she at once glided over to meet her.
When the Princess Gremina came close to her, Roza was at once aware of how young she was. Somehow, even though she knew better, she had always pictured the older Tatyana as a mature thirty-something woman like the Marschallin, but she was surprised to see that Tatyana couldn't be any older than herself, in her early 20's.
She took Roza's hand in greeting. "So you are the famous Roza," she said with a smile of approval. Her voice was warm and mellow and sweet, and laced with the familiar Russian accent.
"Da," Roza told her. "I am so pleased to meet you. You are very much like myself and I adore your opera more than any other."
"Spasiba," said Tatyana graciously. "I know you, Roza and I admire you. You are so sensitive and musical and you understand me more than anyone I know."
"Oh, Spasiba! That means so much to me, coming from you," Roza told her. "In my view, you are the strongest and most regal of all operatic heroines."
Tatyana blushed slightly. Yes, she was still the same Tatyana. Although she was exceptionally poised and regal, she was still refreshingly humble and even somewhat timid. "You believe so?"
"My yes," Roza confided in her. "I could have never done what you did in that last act!"
A look of immense pain crossed Tatyana's pretty face and Roza immediately regretted her words. "Oh, words cannot express how sorry I am..."
Tatyana shrugged it off, like the proud highborn beauty that she was. Her face was once again calm, composed, even devoid of emotion. "It is quite okay, dear Roza. You are here to learn and I will be perfectly frank with you on whatever you wish to know," she lowered her voice considerably. "How could I do it, you ask? It was the two forces I could not ignore--society and honor. And when I make a vow I do not break it."
Just then a silver-haired gentleman in uniform with a kindly face appeared beside her. It was Prince Gremin, without a doubt. and he smiled at Tatyana with the uttermost respect and adoration. Tatyana shot Roza a look that seemed to say "Now do you honesty think I could betray a sweet man like that?" Roza nodded to her to indicate that she understood and Tatyana introduced her to her husband. Roza, who could read people extremely well, could tell that he was a most kindred spirit indeed. The couple then left to join the rest of the Tchaikovskian group that was forming near the punch bowl across the room, to the Waltz from Tchaikovsky's Serenade for Strings.
Roza suddenly felt restless. Where to next? she wondered. There were so many people to meet and the operatic crowd was growing larger by the hour. Several young men noticed her solitary state and asked her for a dance, but she declined graciously and politely, even though she knew not why. She did not know what she was waiting for. Roza took to pacing about the ornate white and gold marble ballroom and watching the couples out on the floor. Suddenly Roza felt a pair of eyes watching her intently. She glanced across the ballroom and saw him. Dressed in an elegant 1820's black tuxedo with a waste coat and a high starched collar was Yevgeny himself! Roza thought she would faint on the spot, despite herself. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. So majestically elegant, was he! So sinfully gorgeous and statuesque!
Yevgeny watched Roza intensely with his piercing sapphire eyes for several moments before coming to her. He seemed utterly dumbstruck, prey to an indescribable emotion he'd rarely felt and still was not accustomed to. Momentarily blinded, caught off balance, he composed himself quickly and walked slowly across the ballroom toward Roza, who seemed as equally spellbound as he was.
Yevgeny took Roza's hand and kissed it lingeringly. Roza felt her cheeks go red, for his gaze was so intensely insidious! All she could say was, "You came..."
Yevgeny nodded, still holding her hand. "I found for some mysterious reason that I was unable to stay away...and now I am so glad that I did not."
At just that moment, the orchestra began to play the dramatic introduction of a waltz that was at once familiar. Both of them recognized it at once, and felt at once.
"May I have this dance?" Yevgeny murmured, as if in a trance.
"Da," said Roza. And he led her out onto the dance floor to the opening strains of Tchaikovsky's exquisitely dreamy Thornrose Waltz from Sleeping Beauty.
Roza ultimately felt as she was soaring on top of the clouds as Yevgeny swept her around the ballroom. He was a most fabulous dancer, Roza had always assumed that but she had no idea, nor did she have any idea how it would feel to waltz with him. It was as if they were the only two in the universe. Although the room was full of people, many of whose eyes were on the two of them, neither Roza nor Yevgeny were aware of anything but the other. This must be what heaven is like, Roza mused. This was their waltz. However, their dancing did not stop its conclusion, where Yevgeny spun her in wildly in a circle. They waltzed to Tchaikovsky's waltzes from The Nutcracker and Swan Lake, and the Waltz from Dvorak's Serenade for Strings.
It happened during the Serenade for Strings Waltz. Perhaps it was because this waltz was somewhat slower than the others, perhaps some immense and forbidden emotion had built up from the previous waltzes--Yevgeny had slowly (and unconsciously) drawn Roza closer and closer to him. Only when the waltz ended in its abrupt manner, did Roza realize that she was in his arms. Coming unwillingly to her senses, as if awakening from a dream, Roza withdrew herself suddenly. What did she think she was getting herself into anyways? The Queen's warning echoed fresh in her mind, "You must not become too involved in the life of an opera character, no matter how much he attracts you or how you ache to heal his tortured soul with your love. For if a man of Operaland makes love to you, you will remain in Operaland forever." She really did feel as if she had awoken from a beautiful dream...
Yevgeny stared at Roza imploringly, confused by Roza's sudden apprehensive motions, and clearly overcome with passion, intense romantic passion. In desperation, he took her hand and led her away from the crowd of curious operatic onlookers.
"Oh...Roza!" Yevgeny murmured. Words failing him, he caught Roza in a passionate embrace.
Roza suddenly became very frightened. Without even trying to, and despite being so careful she had unwittingly overstepped her bounds as a visitor to Operarealm. "Yevgeny--I'm sorry!" She tore herself from his embrace and ran blindly, faster than she had ever ran in her entire life, far from the large ballroom (which echoed ironically with the carefree brilliance of Dvorak's Prague Waltzes) and down the palace corridor. Yevgeny pursued her, calling to her in chillingly passionate and pleading tones that broke Roza's heart.
Roza knew not how she did it, for it all happened too fast, but she managed to throw him off her track as she ran through crowd and then slipped into a library to hide. Roza locked the door behind herself and leaned against the wall, catching her breath. How could this happen? How? She desperately wanted to cry, but her fear seemed to have drained all the water from her tear ducks.
"Roza?"
She jumped and shrieked when she heard the voice behind her.
"Oh my, you are as white as a ghost!" It was Tatyana, the Princess Gremina, and she spoke to Roza in a calm, soothing voice. "Whatever is the matter?"
"He-he's after me!"
Tatyana regarded her in incredulous confusion and horror. "Who is after you?"
"The man I was waltzing with just now. Didn't you see--"
"No," Tatyana told her simply. "I've been in here since after I made my appearances and retired early."
"Doing what?" asked Roza.
"Why reading of course," Tatyana told her with a small smile. "I don't particularly care for balls. They have been nothing but occasions of heartache and turmoil for me. I dislike being looked at, having to put on a show. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? I'd much rather sit by myself with a good book and my dreams...they are all I have left. But enough on my desolate fate," Tatyana came toward her. "Tell me what happened. Who is after you?"
Roza sobbed. "Someone I care for very much, but whom I can not become too involved with. Do you know what happens if I were to do that? I'd never see reality and a chance of operatic glory again!"
"I know," said Tatyana gravely. "As you know, my fate is somewhat similar, and every bit as painful. Tell me, Roza, is the man who pursues the same man that I loved and whose image haunts my mind still?"
Roza sobbed. "Yes! Yes! It is him--Yevgeny!"
Tatyana put her hand to her mouth. She had somehow expected that response, but it still shocked her. "That impulsive...reckless man..." She understood all at once.
"Oh Tatyana--what shall I do?" Roza moaned.
Tatyana was silent for several moments, thinking long and hard. "I can clearly see that you love him as I do--"
"But I can't--" Roza cut in. She couldn't be in love with him, she just couldn't! It was forbidden.
"--and that makes the situation even more dangerous," Tatyana continued patiently, gesturing for Roza not to interrupt her again. "If you remain here with me and my husband...even under our protection...he will pursue you relentlessly. I know him well. Roza--you must go! You must go far from here where he will not see you--where he will not think of finding you!"
At those last words, Roza broke down, totally helpless. Tatyana embraced her as a true sister. "Do not worry. You are doing the right thing. You live for honor. You live for your career. Listen to me, and all will be secured. My husband and I own a beautiful castle in Czechoslovakia, far from anywhere. It just so happens that we have recently given leave for some friends of ours leave to spend a holiday there. You will go with them there in extreme secrecy--I will be the only one who knows your whereabouts and you will be safe to continue your study there. What do you think?"
"I think I have no choice," Roza said mournfully. "Thank you, Tatyana. You've saved me."
"It is the least I can do for my greatest champion," Tatyana told her kindly. "Now I will send for my dear friends and tell them of our plan. You must depart as soon as possible, if you are to depart at all." And she gave Roza a last hug of reassurance before leaving the room and locking the door behind her.
Left alone, Roza felt beside herself with grief. How could she do such a thing? How? When all of her life she had vowed to do just the opposite! Was Tatyana right? Was she in love with Yevgeny? Sure, he had always fascinated her and inspired her with pity for his plight, but to love him? No, she couldn't! The rules of Operarealm forbade such a thing. It hit her suddenly. She could write to him...leave him a letter explaining why she did this. Yes! He'd have to understand when she told him the truth. He was a restless, impulsive man...surely he'd grieve for awhile and then get over it...as had likely been the case with Tatyana. However, something inside of her told Roza that this would not happen, that somehow this situation was different. She ignored this, and set to accomplish her task at once. Tatyana and the others could return any time now and she needed to be ready to go. Roza found a secretary in the corner of the Gremin library quite easily. Inside was beautiful old-fashioned paper which was remarkably thin and several fancy quills. Roza sat and wrote, bearing her soul:
Dearest Yevgeny,
I must confess that I do not know how to begin this letter, as I am sitting here alone prey to a storm of mixed emotions. If you were upset by my sudden and unexpected departure, I might have been more so. You must listen and understand me. I will explain everything for the sake of the peace and sanity of both of us.
I have dreamt of a magical evening such as this my entire lonely life. Ever since I have known your exquisite opera, I have been fascinated with you. So many opera people I have known were and still are profoundly hateful of yourself and your impulsive actions earlier in your life. But I understand you and care for you in spite of yourself. You may be jaded and selfish, but you are incredibly fascinating. There is an intriguing depth and potential in your Russian soul that I am very much attracted to and I only wish I could be permitted to help you realize it.
Can you even begin to understand how abominably hard this is for me? I sit weeping because I cannot be there for you. I cannot because circumstance forbids it! Do you have any idea what would happen to me, a lady of Reality, if I were to become completely yours? I would be lost to Reality forever! I would never realize my full potential as an singer! I have been allowed access to your world solely for this purpose. I have found more inspiration than I have ever imagined and I know that I must be forever content with even having been given the privilege of meeting you! Oh Yevgeny, please forgive cruel circumstance and take it into your heart and soul to find a direction in your life. I care for you very deeply and I only hope that you will find your peace, as I hope to find mine as a servant of my art.
I am exhausted. I can say no more.
Yours,
Roza
Roza wiped the tears from her eyes and folded the letter just as Tatyana and the five travelers, Fioridiligi, Dorabella, Despina, Marenka and Rusalka, entered the room with clear concern in their eyes.
"Are you ready?" Tatyana asked her sympathetically. Roza nodded sadly. Tatyana was holding a pile of shimmering masks and gave Roza a shiny silver one with a long black lace veil. "Some dear friends from a Verdi opera were kind enough to donate these. The others will be wearing one as well so that you won't look so suspicious."
Despina laughed mischievously, obviously quite enjoying the intrigue. "Those fools out there will just assume we've from Un Ballo in Maschera."
Tatyana handed a mask each to the five operatic ladies.
Roza sealed the letter in her hands and gave it to Tatyana, who had just noticed it and was looking at it curiously. "Please...you have done so much for me and now I must humbly ask of you one more small favor," Roza said imploring the young princess. "Please make sure that Yevgeny gets this."
Tatyana nodded. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Roza told her firmly. "He deserves this much at least. I just had to do it...to explain..."
Tatyana placed the letter in her bosom. "Then I will deliver it shortly. But only after the midnight train--your train--has departed. Precautions must be taken."
"The midnight train leaves in fifteen minutes, so we must hurry!" Marenka gushed, indicating for Roza to put on her mask.
Roza hugged Tatyana one last time. "Thank you--so much--for everything!" She slipped on the silver mask and switched cloaks with Marenka. Marenka's immense black cloak not only matched the mask, but also hid Roza's trademark sapphire gown better than her own sapphire cloak did.
With one final farewell, the six masked females disappeared quickly and silently into the raven black night.
