III

Gustave wandered through the streets of Paris, heading back to his apartment. What Madame Giry had said weighed heavily on his shoulders. His lively hood now seemed to depend on some mysterious figure whose whim controlled the entire theatre. It seemed incredible, some extravagant joke.

"Papa!" Christine exclaimed as he entered the door. She wrapped her tiny arms around his legs and smiled at him.

"My little Angel!" he laughed, scooping her up, "did you behave today?"

"She did monsieur," answeredthe maid, "but she missed you something terrible I think."

"Thank you Madame."

The woman just chuckled and slipped past him and out the door, "There is some stew in the kitchen."

"Can you tell me a story papa?" Christine asked, "Can you tell about Little Lotte and the Angel of Music?"

"Of course," he chuckled, "but then I have to practise my music alright?"

She nodded her head sadly, "Can I sing with you?"

"Of course darling," he said warmly, "so Little Lotte?"

"Yes!"

"Little Lotte though of everything and nothing…"

The bustle of the theatre was evident as soon as he entered the backstage. He gave a heavy sigh; it was obvious that a job at the Opera Populaire would be much different from all the other jobs his patron had gotten him. Three times he nearly collided with a member of the chorus or the ballet. Once he ran into another member of the orchestra.

"Monsieur Daae, correct?" the balding man asked cheerfully.

"Yes, excuse me."

"So you're the replacement for Monsieur Duchamp, you seem a nice enough fellow. Oh, where are my manners? Barton," he said, offering a hand.

"Nice to meet you," Gustave said, shaking the other mans hand.

"Not used to all this yet eh?" the other man asked, "it takes time. Come, or Monsieur Reyer might have a fit. Poor man, very stressed, especially since poor Duchamp…oh, pardon my ramblings, rehearsal is about to begin."

Gustave sighed and followed the man to the orchestra pit, passing Antoinette on the way. She was calling instructions to her dancers and helping them warm up.

"Hurry, hurry," Monsieur Reyer encouraged, "there is not much time."

Gustave found his place and took out his violin, preparing to tune it before the rehearsal. The sheets of music were laid out on the stand before him and he flipped to the first page.

The brief break for lunch was a welcome relief, the continuous playing and listening to the singers run through their songs was becoming tedious. Between that there were also the ballets to watch while listening to the sharp scolding and instructions of Madame Giry. He wondered how the woman could continue the shout at the dancers; he surely would have lost his voice by then.

"Madame Giry!" he called, coming up beside her.

"Oui monsieur?"

"I was hoping that tomorrow I may be able to bring Christine and she could stay with your daughter for the day. I do not like leaving her at the apartment with just the maid to watch her."

"She would be in better protection there," she replied with a shrug, "but I see no reason why you could not bring her, Meg would be thrilled."

"Merci, rehearsal seemed to go well today."

"Hmm, I suppose so. But there are still many rehearsals left before the performance. Just wait, it will get far more interesting."

"Will it?" he grumbled.

"Oui, you will see. The Ghost will soon have his say on the entire affair."

"I see…"

"Aurevoir Monsieur Daae, I have classes to teach."

"Yes, aurevoir Madame."

Once the ballet mistress was gone he sighed heavily and leaned against the wall. He wasn't sure how a rehearsal could get more interesting. They already seemed to be a sort of organized chaos.

"Opera Ghost," he muttered and turned back towards the stage, "I'm quite sure…"

He didn't register the quiet swish of material from above, nor did he feel the eyes upon his back. The prospect of something or someone secretly running an entire theatre seemed preposterous to him. After all, what would a ghost do with money and a box?