Provincial Life
Christine sat in the chair, legs curled under her as her eyes darted across the pages of the book in her hand. The sound of the violin drifted in from her father's study and she allowed the music to weave its way into her reading. She brushed a lock of her curly brown hair from her face and turned the page, engrossed in the story as it unfolded in front of her. She always found it easy to be taken away to another land by books.
Christine and her father lived in a small country cottage just outside of a small village. They had moved there after the death of her mother. It was a comfortable life and Gustave, her father, had enough money for them to live comfortably as he worked on composing pieces for the violin. But the small town life bored Christine and she often dreamed of far off places and daring adventures. At one time her father had played in palaces and for the wealthy, but once her mother had taken ill he had given up that life to stay by her side.
"This will never work!" he finally exclaimed, storming out of the study and startling Christine back to the real world.
"Papa," she said gently, "what's the matter? It sounded wonderful."
"Yes, what I have sounds wonderful," he admitted, running a hand through graying dark hair, "but I can't seem to finish it…what are you reading, Christine?"
"It's a story about a bean stock and an ogre," she said, holding up the book and scanning the pages before her, "I'm almost finished it papa, then I can return it to the book store."
"Well then, I shouldn't keep you from it. If you need me I will be working on that blasted song."
"Don't worry, you'll get it finished, you always do."
Gustave only smiled and placed a kiss on his beloved daughter's forehead. She always supported him in his endeavors, no matter what they were. Christine's nose was back in the book before the door to the study closed, she would return the book the next morning and borrow another. It was the only way to get away from the boring life of the small town and cottage.
"I'm off to town papa!" Christine called as she left.
"Take care, Christine," he replied, "oh and if you could bring back some bread!"
Christine smiled, picked up her basket and closed the door to the house. The horses snorted amiably as she passed and she patted the animals' large velvety noses. The walk into the town was short and took Christine over a small trickle of a stream and down a small dirt road. Once in the village she was greeted by the merchants and the townsfolk. Everyone knew everyone in such a small town and they all loved to gossip among themselves.
"Bonjour, Christine," the baker called, "and how are you today mademoiselle?"
"I'm wonderful, thank you for asking monsieur…oh, I need a loaf of bread."
"Well that is no problem," he replied, handing her a baguette from the tray.
"Thank you monsieur," she replied, handing him the money, "and have a good day."
"You as well, Christine."
The old man who owned the book store smiled warmly when Christine entered, "Ahh, young Mademoiselle Daae."
"I'm here to return the book I borrowed," she said, handing him the book, "may I borrow another?"
"Of course, just choose whichever one you'd like."
"Well then I'll pick…" she ran her finger over the spines of the many books that filled the shelves. Finally she stopped on the spine of a red book and pulled it out, "this one!"
"Again?"
"I loved it, oh swordfights, far off lands, adventure and a prince in disguise! It is my absolute favourite book Monsieur."
"Well then keep it, I'll never sell it anyways."
"I-I can keep it?" she asked, brown eyes lighting up, "honestly, you'd let me keep it?"
"Consider it a gift child, to my most important customer."
Christine kissed him on the cheek and tucked the book beside the baguette in her basket, "Thank you so much Monsieur!"
"Go on now, get home to your father. He will no doubt be missing you."
Christine hurried back through the town, greeting the other villagers as she passed them. She was passing the fountain when she felt her basket lighten and heard a light chuckle from behind her. Turning she came face to face with the mocking blue eyes, fair complexion and blonde hair of a man who waved the book in front of her face.
"Raoul, give that back."
"What are you reading today Little Lotte?" he asked, opening the book and flipping through it, "why Christine, there are no pictures."
"Unlike some people I can use my imagination," she said, grabbing at the book that was playfully pulled away from her outstretched hand, "Raoul."
"Christine," he replied gently, still smiling from ear to ear, "if you want it back we'll have to make a trade."
"A trade?"
"Yes, your book for a kiss."
"Give me my book!" Christine exclaimed and lunged for it.
Raoul snatched it away and dashed around the fountain, "If you can get it back then you can have it!"
Christine sighed and put her basket down before chasing after Raoul. He would allow her to get close enough to grab it before pulling away again and Christine soon became tired of the game. All the skills she learned as a child were put to use as she sat down on the fountain and refused to look at him. Every time he tried to see her face she turned it away, mostly so he could not see the smile that played at her lips. When he finally did get close enough she snatched the book from him and pushed him into the fountain.
"Christine," he moaned.
"It serves you right, Raoul de Chagny," she scolded, picking up her basket, "good day."
Raoul frowned slightly, "When will I see you again?"
"Next time I am in town Raoul, and maybe then you will get that kiss."
Raoul was Christine's dearest friend in the entire village. His family was wealthy and owned the only mansion in the quiet town. Christine sometimes secretly wondered if his family actually owned the town, after all they were very wealthy. It didn't seem to affect Raoul though, he was a darling young man who was constantly after Christine's heart. Christine knew that her father approved of Raoul, but she still longed for adventure and, despite her affections for the boy, saw him only as a dear friend and not a lover.
"Papa I'm home!" Christine called, placing the basket on the kitchen table, "papa!"
"I'm in here, Christine," he replied from the study.
Christine opened the door and wrapped her arms around her fathers shoulders where he sat. He put the violin down and pushed the score away from him. Then he patted her hand affectionately.
"How was town today?" he asked cheerfully.
"Wonderful, I got a new book."
"Really?"
"Yes, its my favourite one, and I'm allowed to keep it. Isn't that wonderful papa?"
"Of course it is, Christine, of course it is."
"Have you had anything to eat yet today? You need to eat something or you'll get sick, you're already pale."
"You worry too much, Christine."
"Well I have to worry, you don't do enough of it yourself. I'll make something, bread and cheese fine with you? Oh and a little ham."
"That would be wonderful dear, I'll be out in a minute."
"Alright."
Christine went into the kitchen and cut off several pieces of fresh bread, cheese and ham. Her father always worked too hard, but it would pay off when he went to the fair, that's where he would play his music for money and occasionally sell some of the scores to those who were interested. Of course every year he would struggle to finish at least one of the compositions and spend hours working on it.
"Papa, come and eat."
"Fine, its finished anyways," he said, coming and sitting down at the table, "it looks delicious my little angel."
"So you'll be off to the fair then?"
"Hmm, oh yes, I'll leave after I finish eating."
"I'm coming with you then," Christine informed him, "and don't argue. You can't go by yourself, you're tired and I won't let you risk your health going by yourself."
"Christine, it will only be for one day. Besides, you need to stay here and watch the house."
"It will only be one day, the house can be left alone for that long."
Gustave frowned at his daughter and sighed, "You are just like your mother you know?"
"Beautiful beyond belief?" Christine asked teasingly.
"That…and stubborn. She would never let anyone tell her what to do either, and she always had her head in the clouds. You are so much like her, Christine."
Christine smiled and picked at the bread on her plate. Her father didn't speak of her mother often, he still missed her so much. She waited a minute and then picked up her plate and put it in the sink.
"We should get going," she said, "we'll want to get there before dark."
Gustave went outside and called the two horses over to him. The animals stood still as he saddled them and slipped on their bridles. Christine came out of the house with her father's violin case in hand. She took the reins of the grey horse and stroked its nose gently. Gustave smiled and patted his own animal amiably,.
"So I am stuck with Philip?" Gustave asked, "and where is my music?"
"Of course, Alouette is mine, and its in the case papa. Did you think I had forgotten it?"
"Of course not."
The way through the forest was beautiful, they rode together until they reached a fork in the path and Gustave pulled out a map. Frowning he looked it over, rotating it several times. Then he looked from side to side at the two separate paths. Directly ahead the path remained light, with the trees spread out enough to allow the sunlight to filter in. To the left the trees appeared knarred and close together, blocking the sun from view. Fog and mist swirled in the darkness and gave the path an eerie, ghostly appearance.
"This way," he said, turning his horse to the right.
"Are you sure?" Christine asked, "that doesn't look like the right way."
"It's a short cut, Christine."
"It looks dangerous," she objected, "lets go straight."
"Christine, this way is a short cut. We have a lantern, it is perfectly safe."
Christine chewed nervously on her bottom lip before turning her horse towards the path. The animal gave a small snort and took a few steps back. Gustave's horse did the same thing and he kicked the horse forward irritably. Both animals proceeded down the path nervously, moving closer to one another for protection, heads high and ears forward.
The path seemed to stretch forever and Christine could swear that she saw creatures moving among the trees. She pushed her horse into a trot to catch up with her father who was trying to find his way a short ways ahead. He was lost, and she knew it, but voicing the fact didn't seem wise. At least if it remained unsaid there could be the tiniest shred of hope left that he did in fact know where they were going. A low growl sounded from the trees and the horses' ears shot up and they gave nervous nickers.
"Papa?" Christine asked uncertainly, "I-I think we should turn back."
Her last words were drowned out as a howl started from their left, soon their entire surrounding seemed to be filled with the calls of wolves and several of the animals leapt onto the path ahead of them. Their lips curled back as they snarled at the intruders in their woods. Christine pulled hard on her reins, wheeling her horse around to be faced with three more of the vicious animals. She could hear her father give a small gasp as his horse snorted nervously.
"Papa!"
"Fly, Christine," he said, turning his own animal and driving his heels into its sides.
The horse gave a squeal of objection and reared up slightly before launching forward. The wolves in their path scattered and Christine urged her horse on after her father's. She could see the wolves running through the woods beside the path and could hear the others chasing after them. With a renewed vigor she urged her horse forward until it galloped past her father.
She pulled up when she heard her father's horse squeal and turned to see it rearing as the wolves closed in around it. The horse lashed out with its hooves and caught one of the wolves on the head before charging forward again.
"Keep going, Christine!" Gustave shouted, "I'm right behind you."
Christine listened and the horse galloped forward at a break neck speed. They skidded back onto the main path and continued until they were back at the small cottage. Only then did Christine allow the animal a chance to rest. She dismounted and stroked the animal's velvety nose until it calmed down. It was only then that she realized that her father was no where to be seen.
"Papa? Papa?" she called, then turned to the horse, "Alouette, where is papa? We have to go find him."
The horse pulled back when Christine tried to lead it towards the woods again. Christine stopped and sighed, tears pricking at her eyes. Her father was everything to her and she refused to leave him alone in the woods. The sun was already beginning to set so she found a new lamp and mounted Alouette again. She would find him no matter what.
A/N: Ooh, got a few reviews on the last chapter and was quite pleased with them, thank you to all who reviewed! So I hope you enjoyed this chapter and of course review it to tell me what you though.
