Hey, sorry about the short update, but this chapter precedes a very long chapter, which should appear by Sunday. After that, I hope to fall into a schedule by which I will post a new chapter a least once every three days, if not every other day. Thanks for positive reviews; I love to write for people who really appreciate my hard work:)


Madame Giry straightened and immediately regained her former air of control. She slipped one envelope into her pocket. Then, she took the other letter in her hand and quietly tore it open. She extracted and read the thin parchment tucked inside, then, with a look of resolve, the Madame started in Sara's direction. Sara quickly and quietly returned to the stage and took up her position near Meg and Christine, trying futilely to keep herself from watching Madame Giry come forward and address the new managers. As she spoke, she threw a quick glance in Sara's direction, and Sara immediately became very interested in a particular pattern of glitter on Meg's costume, her cheeks burning a little in embarrassment.

"I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost." Her face was sombre, devoid of any humour. At the words, anyone within earshot, and even a few people who were out of it, but whose ears were so highly tuned to the words 'Opera Ghost' that they couldn't help hearing them, came back to the stage and collected around the ballet mistress and the two owners.

M. Firmin turned on his heel and addressed her directly with such a disrespectful response that Sara gasped audibly. "Oh, God in Heaven, you're all obsessed!"

Sara whispered quietly to her friends. "If Madame Giry believes it, it is anything but an obsession!" Meg and Christine nodded in silent agreement. Madame Giry was known to be very wise and very suspicious of superstition and fable.

Madame Giry seemed unfazed. "He welcomes you to his opera house-"

Firmin's eyes popped in indignation. "His opera house!"

"And commands that you continue to leave Box 5 empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due." Madame Giry handed him the note and prepared herself for a predictably foolish and childish response.

"His salary!" M. Firmin's face turned red as he glanced over the note, confirming Madame Giry's words.

She shrugged. "Monsieur Lefevre used to give him 20,000 francs a month."

M. Firmin gaped at her in disbelief. "20,000 francs!" He looked as though he'd swallowed a frog, his cheeks puffing as he tried to comprehend everything at once.

Madame Giry was anything but sympathetic. "Perhaps you can afford more, with the Vicomte as your patron?" In fact, Sara could have sworn that the ballet mistress was actually enjoying watching the manager flounder.

Firmin made a visible effort to compose himself. "Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the Vicomte was to join us for the gala," he suddenly began to tear up the note and envelope in his hands furiously, "but obviously, we shall now have to cancel, as it appears we have lost our star!" He turned to M. Andre, the vein in his forehead standing out and throbbing. "A full house, Andre, we shall have to refund a full house!" Andre seemed completely lost, opening and closing his mouth without producing any words.

Sara and her friends were quietly laughing to each other. She had to admit, she was so far completely unimpressed by the new managers. She had liked M. Lefevre. He may have been a timid and unassuming person, but he was kind and understanding, and enjoyed spending time talking to the minor actors and actresses, the chorus girls, and even the stagehands. He avoided Carlotta and Piangi as much as possible, but when he had been forced to deal with them, he'd done it gracefully and proudly. Carlotta had marched out on M. Lefevre at least once a night, but each time, she had inexplicably returned of her own volition, and even Piangi admitted that the former owner of the opera house had been one of the most respectful and experienced managers the Opera Populaire had ever had. It was a sharp blow to the entire cast that he was leaving them.

Sara's favourite thing about the former owner was that whenever he dealt with the chorus girls, he'd spoken to their face, instead of their chest or hips. He would often leave little gifts for some of his favourite dancers, little notes of encouragement, single roses sitting on their bunks in the dormitories. Strangely, he would always tie bows onto the roses in black ribbon. Sara wasn't certain why, but she wasn't about to complain. She'd gotten an anonymous note before each of her 'performances,' no matter how minor the role, and a rose with a black ribbon on it after each one. No one ever mentioned the gifts, and Sara assumed that everything thought that they were the only ones receiving them, and Sara was content to let them think so. She simply basked in the glow of his appreciation all by herself. He certainly knew how to make a chorus girl feel special.

"Christine Daaé could sing it, sir." The comment came from Madame Giry, whom Sara noticed had just opened and read the letter that must have been addressed to her. Sara wondered for a moment what the note could contain, but forgot about it when she realized that all conversation had suddenly stopped. An instant later, M. Firmin inadvertently explained why.

"What, a chorus girl?" Sara and all her friends knew that although it was a fine and lofty goal to dream of going straight from chorus girl to Prima Donna, it had never been done before, and was certainly not likely to happen any time in the foreseeable future.

Regardless, Madame Giry pressed on. "Let her sing for you, Monsieur. She has been well taught." Christine did not look like she agreed with the Ballet Mistress. Firmin asked who her tutor had been, and she admitted she didn't know his name. M. Firmin gave up at that. M. Andre, however, was a little more reasonable, and asked her to show them what she could do.

Slowly and shyly, Christine broke away from Meg and Sara and walked forward, with M. Andre coaxing her downstage. M. Reyer instructed her to start at the beginning of the same aria Carlotta had just slain.

"Andre, this is doing nothing for my nerves."

"Well, she's very pretty…"

Christine ignored the managers' comments and began singing. Sara was stunned to hear Christine's singing voice. She elbowed Meg and asked if she'd known that Christine could sing like that. Meg shrugged and shook her head. "I have never heard her sing."

Sara furrowed her brow. "Nor have I." She was suddenly very disappointed. Somehow, she had always thought that she was the only chorus girl with a voice worth actually flaunting on the stage. But Christine was clearly just as talented as her, perhaps even more so…