She sat across from him in the café and studied him closely. The new tenor was a little older than her and fashionably dressed in a light grey suit. His face was kind and showed that he was a bit overwhelmed in the cacophony of French voices from the street. He had the palest blue eyes and reddish-brown hair.

He also looked incredibly nervous.

"So tell me," Carlotta began as the waiter filled their cups with coffee. "How did you end up in Paris?"

Ubaldo paused a moment to consider his response. Here was someone he didn't know and could possibly make his tenure in Paris very short if he started off on the wrong foot. He had to make sure this discussion went well. "I was singing in Milan, one of two principle tenors who played opposite a woman whose voice didn't quite merit her the position. M. Lefrevre saw me performe one night and said he was having trouble with his tenor at the Paris Opera. I was offered the job and took it knowing that a woman who deserved the title of principle soprano worked there. I also accepted it so I could be the only principle tenor." After his explanation was complete, he sighed and hoped his explanation would be satisfactory for the diva.

Carlotta's hand toyed with a spoon that laid on the table. She was trying to figure out the man who sat opposite her. Would she be able to control him? Or would he be yet another tenor who would soon resent the amount of power the principle soprano could wield – and grow to resent it?

"And what do you think of Paris so far?"

Ubaldo didn't need to think about the answer to this question very long. "The language is harder to speak than I thought it would be."

With that, Carlotta let a laugh escape from her lips. Not one of the fake laughs she used on her patrons or admirers when they made an attempt at humour, but a true laugh that came from truly being entertained by his comment.

When she was done laughing, she placed one of her hands on Ubaldo's and looked into his eyes. "Truth be told," she began, "I felt the same way when I first came here. But the language does become easier as time goes on." She paused, giving the tenor a sly smile. "Although, I must admit, it is nice being able to converse in my native language with someone who actually knows how to speak it and not just thinks they can!"

But Ubaldo barely heard a word of what she said. He was too engrossed in the feeling of her hand on top of his.