I don't own the Phantom of the Opera...and that makes me sad.
Chapter 3:
(Michelle's POV)
"Michelle, lift your leg just a big higher child. There, that's wonderful!" I did as she instructed and smiled at the praise that I received. Today was my first day of training, and Madame Giry had been kind enough to allow Meg to lead the others on stage during rehearsals and to help me get my dancing talents back.
"Lunch will be soon, Michelle. We can continue with this tomorrow if you would like to get some rest." She looked at the clock and clicked her tongue.
"We have been working for nearly seven hours straight. I am sure that you are quite exhausted." She continued.
"Thank you, Madame." I said as I let my leg back down. She nodded with a smile and turned her head looking at me quizzically.
"Michelle, how old are you?" she asked.
"I am not yet three and twenty, Madame." I replied.
"I did not think you to be more than eighteen at the oldest." She smiled at me and put her hand on my shoulder. "Consider yourself lucky, Michelle. Many women would love to appear to be much younger than they truly are."
I sighed and nodded my head. Looking much younger was a hereditary trait in my family it seemed. At least on mothers side that is. Mother looked to be one and thirty when she died, when in reality she was five years older than her appearance. I looked up and saw Madame Giry exit the ballet practice room without another word. I sighed and sat down, warming myself down from the strenuous exercise. I could not believe how long it had been since I had last danced. Even though my body ached, I knew it had done my soul good. I continued to warm down, thinking that perhaps I should call for another bath tonight, and began to sing a simple tune that my brother and I had sung as children.
Der Mond ist aufgegangen
Die gold'nen Sternlein prangen
Am Himmel hell und klar
Der Wald steht schwarz und schweiget
Und aus den Wiesen steiget
Der weiße Nebel wunderbar
Wie ist die Welt so stille
Und in der Dämmerung Hülle
So traulich und so hold
Gleich einer stillen Kammer
Wo ihr des Tages Jammer
Verschlafen und vergessen sollt
(Erik's POV)
I watched as Antoinette re-trained Michelle with her ballet movements. The girl was graceful, though there were flaws that would easily be improved with practice. I would be damned if this child would dance upon the stage if she proved to be a poor dancer, but seeing this first practice session gave me hope for the girl. I was stunned out of my reverie as I heard Antoinette ask Michelle her age.
"I am not yet three and twenty, Madame." I looked at the girl in shock. She was much older than I had thought. Though Antoinette had suggested that she thought her age to be around eighteen, I had thought her to be around seventeen. This girl was interesting to sum her up in one word. Antoinette had left and I was on my way to watching the rehearsals when I heard Michelle start to sing. The song was German, and from my knowledge of the language it talked of Germany during the night hours. But it wasn't the language or the meaning that spoke to me. It was the passion that filled her voice and dare I even think her soul when she sang. It seemed that I would become a teacher once again, but this time I would guard my heart so that I would not fall again. If I did, then by God, this girl was going to go with me.
