Chapter 2
In the English language there are only so many ways you can describe something, and sometimes…just sometimes there are things which are indescribable. Take for example love, or peace, or harmony. They are nice things, things which everyone wants for themselves or even the whole world, but is there really an accurate way to describe when you're in love? Or when a war is over and peace is declared? Or when you and an enemy finally call it quits and can live with each other in comfortable companionship? I hardly think so and even writers, poets and film makers find it hard to show it on page or screen.
This however was the indescribable feeling that washed over the young man as he entered the sacred building which he had always hoped and prayed that one day he could perform there. The man how was now in front of him moved briskly, and the young man had a hard time keeping up with the things he had to carry, light and few as they were. Colours, sights and sounds blurred past him and even though he could recall the quiet outside appearance of the Opera House, the same could not be said for the inside. Noise flooded throughout the great hall and marvellous decorations were strewn around the staircases and across the hallways. People were everywhere, and the young man was often jostled without an apology, but he managed to keep close to the man in red robes, who appeared to be slowing down somewhat. They came to a very simple oak door, which had the names: M. R. Firmin and M. G. Andre inscribed on the front in neatly printed silver lettering. The guide knocked loudly on the door twice and pushed it open a crack.
"Messieurs, the boy's here." The man called inside and waited impatiently for a reply.
"Very well, send him in." A voice said quickly, and the guide obeyed, obviously happy to be rid of the man. He pushed the man in and the door was shut behind him.
The office was a rather small, windowless room that smelled strongly of cigars and women's perfume, however it was well lit, and for good reason too. Two men, dressed in matching grey suits and almost identical beards stood hunched over a desk, which was overflowing with many papers. A skinny brass coat hanger was standing in the right hand corner of the room and flung over it were two, black woollen overcoats, but the young man had no idea why, since it was almost summertime. As well, there were two grey hats perched precariously on the hat rack, which was attached to the coat rack. There were many filing cabinets everywhere, which now were open and files and sheets of paper were scattered everywhere, overflowing the drawers. There were also two comfortable looking chairs positioned just in front of the desk, while there stood only one chair behind the desk. It was clearly more extravagant the then other two in front, and the man guessed it must belong to one of the two men, who were still engrossed in their mutterings. It was covered in black leather, quite uncommon, and very expensive, with a high back and polished brass arm rests. The young man was quite unsure of what to do and felt very out of place in the presence of these two upstanding gentlemen, considering he had come from humble beginnings.
"No, no, look Andre, there would be no use putting Carlotta in that role, she'd tear off our heads." Said M. Firmin in a heavy tone.
"You might be right, but then who would play the role?"
"We might just have to pull up a chorus girl?"
"Oh we'd never hear the end of it Firmin!" cried Andre flinging up his arms.
"Perhaps, well, we had better just chose a different Opera…." Firmin replied shifting his gaze over the assorted papers, searching for something else. That's when he spotted the young man standing by the door.
"Good Heavens young man!" Firmin said in an alarmed tone, "What are you doing in here? It's strictly off limits!"
"Sorry Sir…" the young man began, "But…"
"Probably an angry chorus member seeking a better role or more pay, I told you we shouldn't have cut their pay!" Muttered Andre. The expression on Firmin's face however changed dramatically however, as a new thought just occurred to him. Andre seemed to have noticed. "What man? What's going on?"
"Of course….I remember you…" The young man allowed himself a tiny feeling of hope as Firmin said this. "Andre…" Firmin exclaimed to his partner, "…Jacque just quit didn't he?" Andre nodded solemnly.
"Yes, quite a good violinist, held First Chair for 4 seasons. Been here since the beginning."
"Exactly, well we've been searching for one to replace him haven't we?"
"Of course..." said Andre, but he stopped mid-sentence as if he had just saw the young man for the first time. "Oh no…Firmin don't be silly…." As if to solidify the fact Andre began to shake his head but Firming pressed on.
"No, no Andre. He's quite good. I listened to him outside the Opera House this morning…"
"What?" piped up Andre in surprise, "You just…just took him off the street did you?"
"Well not exactly…"
"Do you even know anything about him?" interrupted Andre angrily.
"Well…"
"Well?…Well?" exploded Andre, "Is that all you can say? He could be a thief, a murderer for all we know. Just look at the state of his clothes, we don't know where's he's been!" The young man began to shift uncomfortably where he stood. This wasn't going well at all, maybe he shouldn't have come here. He had been having doubts the whole way to the Opera house, but now as he stood here listening to the two men arguing about his future, the man realised that coming here had been a huge mistake.
"Now listen Andre…" said Firmin who was trying desperately to calm down his partner, "…if you just heard him, I know you'd agree…." However Andre either chose to ignore Firmin or he just didn't hear him because he howled in frustration.
"Not to mention the publicity we'd be getting if this leaked into the papers!" Andre sank heavily into the chair behind the desk and moaned. "God, I can see the papers now…Opera House Hires Hooligan…Theatre Employs Street Urchin…My God…My God…"Firmin who had given up any hope of consoling Andre, caught the eye of the young man who now stood poised to leave the office.
"Young man, tell us your name." Said Firmin.
"You don't even know his name!" howled Andre in dispair. The young man swallowed his anxious thoughts and ran his fingers through his untidy black hair.
"Erik Sir…My name is Erik." The man said quietly.
