Everything and Nothing
Notes- Thank you to Baffled Seraph, Misty Breyer, and Angel-of-Music1331 for the reviews. They made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Hopefully I'll keep up with your expectations. Enjoy the next chapter, everyone!
Chapter Two: Only Half of It
Unfortunately, Madame Giry's conversation with little Mademoiselle Daae wasn't very enlightening.
"She said that my Angel doesn't exist," was the first thing that the girl had to mention.
"And why did she say that?" Madame Giry said.
"Because… um… no reason," she muttered.
"Mademoiselle," Madame Giry said warningly. "I shall have the truth from you or I shall make special use of my cane on both of you."
The young woman flinched. "I said her ghost doesn't exist." This was spoken so softly that it was a wonder that I not only heard it, but also understood it.
Madame Giry stopped abruptly, and whirled on the girl. "You did what?" she asked.
"I… ghosts don't exist," she said, scuffling her feet.
"My dear, how can your Angel exist if ghosts cannot?" Madame Giry said. "And you must be careful where and when you say that! What if the ghost heard you?"
"You mean it's true, Madame?" the young woman asked, incredulous.
"Yes, he does. And while he rarely has interest in the likes of us, you should take care that you don't catch his attention."
I blinked as she glanced upwards, and our eyes met briefly. To my surprise, she showed no dismay at my watching them; instead, her expression was wry.
"Is he dangerous, then, Madame? Does he steal away chorus girls and eat them like Meg said?" Mademoiselle Daae asked, with a horrid fascination in her features.
Once again, all I could do for a moment was blink in surprise. Since when do I eat chorus girls? Something told me little Giry needed a talking to.
Madame Giry apparently shared my sentiment. "That is pure folly," she said sternly. "The ghost does no such thing. If he did, do you think I would allow my daughter to continue performing here? Or work here myself?"
Apparently, this hadn't occurred to the young woman. She lowered her eyes, scuffed her feet again, and mumbled something I could not catch.
"Now, you shall apologize to Meg, and she will apologize to you. You don't need enemies here, child, especially not over something so foolish."
"Yes, Madame," Mademoiselle Daae said softly.
"Good." Madame Giry softened slightly. "No one will question your Angel again, my dear. Just… do not speak of it so often, yes?"
"All right. It's just… Papa said-"
"I know."
The two continued down the hallway.
I watched them for a moment, debating as to whether or not I ought to follow them. Granted, I had nothing of immediate import to busy myself with. For some reason, my music had not been coming to me as easily as usual. Following a fit of rage where I destroyed ten pages of carefully-printed notes that had taken months to write, I had decided to leave it well alone until inspiration could find me once more. I had no need to acquire food anytime soon, and my salary was not required at this point. And harassing the managers, while highly amusing, was not something I could interest myself in at the moment.
Whatever I tried to think of was blocked by the look on little Daae's face when she murmured, "Papa said."
Growling slightly in frustration, I turned and made my way into the hidden passageways within the Opera House, winding my way towards the dorms.
The dorm rooms had not been built with the intention of housing anyone; they'd simply been less glamorous dressing rooms, made for those cast in smaller parts of Operas. Or, perhaps, private celebration rooms for after the Opera. Lord knows they'd been used for the latter purpose often enough, before the younglings had shown up. In any case, once the Opera House's managers found, to their dismay, that they had been unknowingly housing children, they ordered the walls between the dressing rooms knocked down.
While this annoyed me- after all, I had to cover my own hidden passages that had been placed around this area- it was comforting to know that I wouldn't be tripping over small persons in random areas in my theatre. That had happened too often for my comfort in the beginning, when I'd still been mastering the use of my passages.
When I finally found a proper place to watch the proceedings, I discovered that little Giry and the Daae girl had already made amends. Madame Giry stood, arms crossed and her eyes rolling while the two girls stood giggling together like nothing had happened.
Well, to be entirely truthful, little Giry was doing all of the unseemly giggling. Little Daae would smile, but she occasionally looked confused as though she wasn't sure whether little Giry was entirely sane. I spotted her glancing back at Madame Giry once or twice, as though silently asking if her conversation was permissible.
The other girls approached slowly from the beds. My best guess was that they had fled the moment Mademoiselle Daae had appeared, just in case an outburst occurred. Children seemed to have a bizarre fascination with people who were throwing fits. Anyhow, when they discovered that no more tears would be forthcoming, they joined in the conversation. I couldn't catch what they were going on about, but it involved a lot more of one sound that grated on my ears almost as much as a child's sniffling did.
I'm referring to the giggling, by the by. Not Madame Blanche's singing- that's definitely more annoying than any sound a child could make.
The girls continued to chatter on until Madame Giry clapped her hands twice. Instantly, all sounds ceased as the girls looked expectantly up at her.
"You all have practice in one half-hour. Prepare yourselves immediately," she said, assuming a stern expression. "And if I hear of any more outbursts from any of you today, all of you will enjoy two extra hours of practice tomorrow. I will make certain of it with your instructor."
A few of the less-fit girls flinched. Others sighed. Little Giry, Daae, and one or two of the others merely nodded.
Madame Giry turned on her heel and made her way out, back towards the boxes. As she went, I made a mental note to send her a gift soon. She certainly deserved it.
I was considering the idea of leaving as well- I had no interest in watching the younglings prepare themselves for their rehearsals- when Daae spoke up.
The young woman had a strange power over the others. Perhaps it was because she was new, but when she opened her mouth most of the other girls immediately quieted.
"Meg… Your mother said that the Ghost doesn't eat chorus girls."
"Oh, he doesn't?" one girl asked, looking vaguely disappointed.
Meg smiled. "Of course he doesn't. He kidnaps chorus girls. He doesn't hurt us, though. It's the boys he kills and eats."
To my bemusement, there were murmurs of "Oh," followed by nods of understanding.
"That makes sense. I don't like boys either," another girl announced.
"They smell funny," yet another piped up helpfully.
I rolled my eyes.
"Well, why didn't you say so?" Little Daae asked. "Boys I can believe. Girls, though…"
"So you believe in the Opera Ghost now?" Giry asked excitedly.
Mademoiselle Daae paused. "I… don't know," she admitted. "I think I'd have to see him to believe him."
"Ooh, don't say that! He's really scary looking!" the first girl said, looking stricken.
"What?"
"It's because of all the boys he eats," the third unnamed girl said knowingly. "They're bad for your skin. Like sweets can be bad for our skin."
"Ick. But I'd think boys would taste horrible," little Giry said, making a face.
Oh, yes. I definitely need to speak with the Giry family soon.
"How is he scary?" Mademoiselle Daae asked.
"Well… Joseph Buquet, that weird man who gives us sweets to get him wine from the kitchens?" At Daae's nod little Giry continued, "He says that the Opera Ghost looks like a walking 'corpse'."
There was an awe-filled pause.
Then someone asked, "What's that?"
"Um…" Little Giry paused. "I'm not sure," she admitted.
"Ooh," the girls chorused, looking disappointed.
"Anyway, he's scary looking," little Giry announced. "So you don't want to see him. He's nice enough, I suppose- he helped me get into the ballet, after all, even when we were on hard times. And it's funny when he scares the managers…"
One point in your favor, little Giry. Flattery shall spare you my wrath.
"Still," Mademoiselle Daae insisted quietly. "If I could see he was real, then maybe…"
"How about this: I promise to believe in your Angel, and you promise to believe in my Opera Ghost?" Little Giry looked triumphant at that suggestion.
Youngling Daae paused. "You mean you don't believe in him?" she asked, sounding disappointed.
"Nuh-uh. I've heard of angels, but I've never heard of your Angel. Or of any angels doing what yours is s'posed to do."
"What are you talking about, then?" someone asked interestedly, a faint accent in her tone.
At that moment, someone pounded on the door.
"Girls! Are you prepared!"
The girls scurried towards their respective areas, grabbing their outfits and hurriedly kicking off their shoes. "We're coming, Mam'selle," they chorused loudly.
"You have five minutes before I drag you out undressed! Understand?"
"Yes, Mam'selle," they replied.
As the group proceeded to actually get ready, I slipped away. However, while I left them in body, my mind remained firmly on little Giry and Mademoiselle Daae's conversation.
So the youngling needs to see before she believes, I thought. It's rather unfortunate that I don't put on private shows for the benefit of children.
But I couldn't help myself; I paused somewhere on the third cellar, with my hand just the tiniest distance from my hidden switch, while my mind presented an interesting idea.
I fought against it as hard as I could.
Today was an amusing interlude in my otherwise lonely life. No more. I am not going to go gallivanting about my Opera House scaring little children. It doesn't matter if Mademoiselle Daae believes I exist or not.
But that wasn't entirely true.
The young soul never laughed the entire time. Not when she made a fool out of Madame Blanche, not when she made up with little Giry… and that smile was about as substantial as… well, a ghost. She even looks like a wraith.
Maybe I could give her a little life, or at least an appreciation for it.
The idea began to slowly win over, teasing at the corners of my mind and pressing ever onward until finally I could do nothing but resign myself to it.
I just need to find a time when she's alone…
I blinked suddenly.
I don't know her name.
Granted, I didn't know half of the people that came in and out of my Opera House. But for some reason, continuing to call her "Little Daae" didn't quite fit into my mind correctly. It was about as proper as calling Madame Giry by a ridiculous nickname.
That problem soon fit into my idea, and I couldn't help but smile at the simplicity of it.
Now, all I needed to do was find her alone…
Right little barbarians those girls are, eh? Hope you enjoyed this installment. Until next time… Waves