Chapter 35
When Poppy walked back onto the stage, it was a madhouse. Poor Reyer were supervising the rehearsals. They were just moving on to a new piece of the opera. Poppy heard him hit a wrong note on the piano. When the music was played correctly, it was almost beautiful. The reason she thought almost was that it was not to be beautiful like say, Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde. It was harsher, creepy. But it still screamed that it was written by a musical genius.
Poppy joined them, sitting down next to Piangi. The man was struggling with the words. As the hour wore on, Poppy was ready to sell her soul for some aspirin. Her head was pounding.
When they got to the final scene, she was almost in tears. Her head was hurting so bad. The chorus began singing.
"Hide your sword now, wounded knight! Your vainglorious gasconade brought you to your final fight— for your pride high price you've paid!"
It was Poppy's turn: "Silken couch and hay-filled barn— both have been his battlefield. "
Piangi begins, but gets it wrong. "Those who tangle with don Juan…."
Poppy rubs her temples as Reyer stops him.
"No, no, no! Chorus—rest, please…Don Juan, Signor Piangi—here is the phrase. "Those who tangle with don Juan…." If you please?"
"Those who tangle with don Juan." Still wrong.
"No, no. Nearly—but no. ""No, no, "Those who tan, tan, tan…"
"Those who tangle with don Juan…." Still wrong. How surprising.
Carlotta was behind Poppy. Poppy head her speak to the others. "His way is better. At least he makes it sound like music!" she said snippily.
Poppy turned to fix her with her white eyes. She knew her white dead eyes were disturbing. She had stopped wearing her glasses. "Would you speak that way in the presence of the composer?"
Carlotta didn't get the implication of the warning, "The composer is not here. And if he were here I would say to him…"
"Are you certain of that, Signora…" Poppy purred darkly.
Reyer interrupted, "So once again—after seven," he plays the note, "Five, six seven…"
"Those who tangle with don Juan." Still wrong.
Poppy groaned, as it erupted in a mad house.
"Ah, piu non posso!" Carlotta shrieked, "What does it matter what notes we sing? No one will know if it right, or if it is wrong. No one will care if it right, or if it is wrong." In a high pinched voice she began mocking the line," "Those who tangle with Don Juan."
Piangi tried again. "Those who tan, tan, tan…" he turned to Poppy, "is right?"
Poppy tried to lend a helping hand to him. He was really a sweet man when Carlotta was not hounding him. "Not quite, Signor. 'Those who tan… tan…"
Reyer thumps on the piano, "Ladies… Signor Piangi…if you please…." He thumps on it again, and walks over to try to get attention. It was at the height of the noise when the piano started playing the song correctly. Poppy smiled slightly. Only Erik knew the song correctly, but how he was doing that, she didn't know. It played with great force and rhythm. All around her fell silent and froze, then suddenly stars to sing robotically and accurately. As they sung, Poppy sunk away.
"Poor
young maiden!
For the
thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets
you will have to pay the
bill -
tangled in the winding sheets!"
Rubbing her temples, Poppy made it to the secret tunnel. Erik was waiting. Without a word he picked her up.
"Erik, I can walk." She tried to wiggle out of his arms. They tightened.
"I know. But I enjoy carrying you."
"But I hate being carried." Poppy said giving up and going still. She sighed and laid her pounding head against his hard chest, closing her eyes.
Erik laughed quietly, as he carried her down the tunnel. He didn't blame her leaving rehearsals. They were getting rather loud. There was two more days until the première of his opera. He'll let her sleep for as few hours, and then they'll practice some more.
