Thank you once again to all my readers, especially to those who have reviewed, added this story to their favorites and/or have put it on alert. Even though I would have preferred to get at least one more review for chapter 3, I have decided to give you number four already, since to my surprise chapter 8 is almost done, yay!
Regarding chapter 4: I have no idea whatsoever if there ever was an opera theater in Spoleto in the 19th century, but since composer Giancarlo Menotti founded the "Festival dei Due Mondi" there in 1958, I thought it could not hurt to give that city some operatic background.
Also, even though I am not certain, how long it will take me to write chapter 9, I am willing to post chapter 5 (that's the one that so far has been the greatest fun writing!) if you guys can come up with an explanation why I thought it cute to put a reference to Lago Trasimeno into this chapter.
This is the chapter you have all been waiting for, the first appearance of Erik... and somebody else, with a rather strange name, or so Christine thinks. Enjoy ;-)
And keep in mind that these characters do not belong to me... :-(
Chapter 4 – Audition
Christine was sitting in a café overlooking the Lago Trasimeno in central Italy and thinking. She had gone from Sweden straight to Italy but had then traveled slowly from one town to the next. The big cities in northern Italy were of course nice and it would have been tempting to land a job and perform in Milan or Venice, or even Florence, but the risk of being recognized in such a place seemed too high. So she had gone further and further south, but had not really found a place where she could audition. The cities that had a halfway decent opera company were still too big for her taste, and the smaller ones had lower musical quality, as she had noticed by attending the occasional performance in order to decide whether or not she would want to work at any of these theaters.
She would sooner or later have to audition in one of them, though, since if she went even further south there were more big cities like Rome and Naples and to try for an employment there was definitely out of the question.
Christine sighed. This was more difficult than she had expected, not to mention the fact that traveling all by herself was unusual for a young woman and made her uncomfortable. For that reason alone she would have preferred to settle down as soon as possible.
Suddenly something caught her eye. The elderly lady at the table next to her was browsing through a newspaper and Christine could read the bold print of a half page advert. "Opera theater in Spoleto about to reopen – auditions will be held May 10 through 15, for all positions: soloists, choir, orchestra, dancers."
Christine quickly paid for her cappuccino and went to the nearest newsstand. She had to get a hold of that newspaper and check out if there was any more information on this theater project.
Half an hour later, she had read the whole article. Apparently the theater in Spoleto had been closed for a few years after the previous manager had gone bankrupt. But slightly over a year ago the theater had been bought by two gentlemen, and after a period of restoration they were now ready to prepare for a reopening later this summer. She was intrigued. A theater that reopened? A company that had to be formed from scratch? It sounded like a new beginning, if such a thing could happen to an abandoned theater, maybe it could also happen for her?
She checked her map of Italy. Spoleto was not that far away, it was located in the same region of Umbria as the town where she was currently staying, and she could easily get there by train. Audition for singers would be the day after tomorrow. That gave her plenty of time to go there and try her luck.
Xxxx
Two days later Christine arrived at the soon to be reopened theater in Spoleto and applied for an audition. There were lots of men and women, most of them apparently from other Italian cities and regions, but some seemed to be locals as well.
Christine was told that ladies and gentlemen applying for the choir would be first, then soloists, starting with altos and mezzos, sopranos should be back at one p.m. That gave her a little more time to prepare. She once again rehearsed the story that she would have to tell the managers, should she be asked about her professional career so far. Yes, she had had voice lessons, private lessons, no, they would most likely not know her teacher, and she had spent some time at home in Sweden recently, thus not been performing. She felt a bit nervous about the half truths she would be telling but hoped that these few details would be enough to land a job.
When Christine returned, there was already a fairly long line of ladies waiting. They were soon shown into the theater, to a room close to the main stage. One by one they were called in to perform to the accompaniment of a piano.
It took almost two hours till it was Christine's turn. She was lead onto the main stage and introduced to the pianist, a signor Cantucci, who asked her what she would like to sing. She had chosen a rather difficult aria, "Come scoglio" from Mozart's Così Fan Tutte.
The whole auditorium was dark except for the light on the piano's music stand, which surprised Christine. Weren't the managers here to listen to the various people that auditioned?
"We are trying to simulate the situation during a performance," signor Cantucci explained. "If you were to perform here, there would only be light on the stage, you would not be able to see the audience, at least not too clearly."
Christine nodded. That made sense. Cantucci began to play, and at her cue she joined in, singing the demanding aria flawlessly.
Then something strange happened. Somebody in the dark auditorium applauded. So there was somebody here after all!
"Lights!" a male voice commanded, and the lights in the auditorium went on. She now saw a short elderly man with gray hair and sun burnt skin, who looked at her.
"Molto bene, signorina," (= very good, Miss) he said. Then he walked through a door next to the orchestra pit and joined her on the stage.
"Lei è la signorina...?" (= you are Miss..?) he asked her.
"Johannsen," Christine responded, glad that her Italian was good enough to understand this gentleman. "Ingrid Johannsen."
He frowned. "Non è italiana?" (= you are not Italian) he asked surprised.
"No," Christine explained. "Sono svedese". (= I am Swedish)
He seemed to think about this information, then asked her about her musical background. She told her story about private lessons with a teacher whose name would mean nothing to him ("since I do not even know it myself," she thought wistfully), that she had stayed home in Sweden for private reasons, and was now seeking employment at a theater.
"Is this a problem?" she added timidly, after mentioning her stay in Sweden, when asked about former employments. Thus she made it look as if her sudden embarrassment was caused by her supposed lack of experience, rather than by the fact that she was withholding some important information.
Luckily for her, the gentleman in front of her seemed to buy her story. "No, I don't think this will be a problem, since your performance just now proved that you are ready," he said. "Of course, I cannot make the final decision, I will have to discuss this with my partner, the artistic director of this theater. We might have to ask you to come back and sing again for him..."
"That would not be a problem," Christine assured him. "I can certainly wait a few days for your decision, signor...?"
He seemed to understand her unvoiced question. "Khan," he explained. "My name is Khan. As I said, signorina Johannsen, I will discuss this with my associate, and we will get back to you. Where are you staying?"
"Thank you, signor Can," Christine replied, and while she told him the address of the bed-and-breakfast she was staying at, she thought what a strange name Can was. Wasn't that short for "cane", the Italian word for dog? But then, why was she surprised? On her way south she had passed through a town called Verona and there one of the major sights were tombs of noblemen from the Middle Ages – or had it been the Renaissance? - she was not sure anymore, but she remembered clearly that one of them had been called Cangrande – the big dog. So maybe using cane or variations thereof for names was common in Italy, she thought.
Signor "Can" promised to get back to her if not today, then tomorrow at the latest and Christine took her leave.
Xxxx
Nadir was nervous. Of course Erik never attended auditions in person. He avoided contact with anybody in the small town as much as possible. He did have a lifelike looking mask now that allowed him to show himself in town every now and then, but this mask was extremely uncomfortable to wear, so he tried to limit such exposures as much as possible which had gained him the reputation of being a recluse.
During the restoration of the theater Erik had seen to it that from his own office he could overlook the stage and overhear everything that was going on there, unnoticed by the performers. Thus he could attend the auditions – and later rehearsals – without being seen. He would take notes and ask Nadir to pass his comments on to the performers. In urgent cases he might even talk to Nadir directly by using his gift to project his voice.
The day before he had used voice projection a lot to give Nadir clear instructions as to which musicians should be hired and which ones they might keep on their list as possible fallbacks. Even this morning, when they had auditioned potential choir members, Erik had been in contact with Nadir, but now, when there finally was a soprano that had leading lady qualities, Erik had remained silent. Nadir found this unsettling. What was going on here? Did Erik really want to pass up on such a talented young lady because she was Swedish like his Christine? True, he himself had been a bit shaken, when she had said she was Swedish, but then, surely there were many girls in Sweden with a good voice? Hadn't Erik recently mentioned another Swedish singer, a certain Jenny Lind, who had been called the Swedish Nightingale?
Nadir was sure that he had found their prima donna. Yes, Erik called him tone-deaf, and did not think highly of his knowledge where music was concerned, but even he had been able to notice the great talent of this signorina Johannsen. He had to talk to Erik immediately and convince him to hire that girl.
He asked signor Cantucci to tell the two remaining ladies that were waiting for their audition to come back the next morning and went in search of Erik.
When he knocked on the door of Erik's office there was no answer, but Nadir seemed to hear strange sounds coming from inside. What was going on there, was his friend maybe not well?
Even though he knew that it was risky to enter Erik's office unbidden, he opened the door and looked in. When he saw Erik, slumped on his desk, his face buried in his hands, obviously shaking with tears, he quickly entered.
He was about to ask what was going on, when Erik, apparently oblivious to Nadir's presence, sighed deeply. "Oh Christine!"
"Erik, calm down!" Nadir rushed to his friend's side. "I understand that this signorina Johannsen reminded you of Christine, since she is also Swedish, but..."
Erik shook his head. "You don't understand Nadir, it is Christine. This woman... it is her. What is she doing here? And under a false name, no less. Does she know that I am in charge of this theater? Is her boy still trying to hunt me down and is she once again acting as bait for him to catch me?"
Nadir was in shock. He had been so certain that they had finally found their prima donna, and now that. Could it be? Could this signorina Johannsen really be Christine Daaé?
"Didn't you say your Christine had dark brown hair?" he tried to confirm the singer's identity. "This lady's hair was lighter than you described Miss Daaé's hair to me..."
"Nadir, I am not an imbecile," Erik snapped back at him. "I know Christine. Yes, she changed her hair color to make it look lighter, but there are ways to do that. She is also wearing her hair differently. But it is her. And if I had not recognized her the very moment she stepped on that stage, I would have known who she was once she opened her mouth and sang. I would recognize this voice everywhere, after all, I am the one who trained it, remember?"
Nadir was finally convinced. "Okay, so it is her," he agreed. "But I do not think she could know that you are here. When we came here from Paris, we made very sure not to leave any traces of our whereabouts. Also, haven't you told me that she does not know your name, that she originally called you Angel and later at your request Maestro? And our names do not even figure in the ads regarding auditions that we have put out in the regional newspapers. So even if she knew your name there would still be no connection between you and this theater. Nobody here in Spoleto knows about your... condition, since you only show yourself with that lifelike mask on. Therefore neither your name, nor rumor of a masked man can have brought her here. No, I do not think she has a clue who she has been auditioning for."
"Maybe that boy of hers has employed detectives," Erik suggested. "By the way, where is that boy? Is he waiting somewhere to strike at the most opportune moment?"
"She was not wearing a wedding ring," Nadir remembered, "and she said nothing about a fiancé or husband... " He tried to remember every detail of the conversation with the young singer. She had sounded sincere, there had been only one moment of unease, when he had asked about her previous jobs. But then, if she was indeed Christine Daaé and withholding her employment at the Opéra Populaire, it was understandable that she would have felt a bit nervous at that particular question.
"Erik, I am not so sure the Vicomte is in the picture," he therefore said. "Her story mostly rang true. Unless she is the most experienced actress in the world, I think that most of what she told me is true. The only time she seemed to waver, was when I asked about her previous employments. At that time I thought she was nervous about her supposed lack of experience, but of course that was the one time she was lying, which she would have to do if she wanted to get back on stage without the stigma of the scandal and fire in Paris attached to her real name. But if her unease about that lie was noticeable, her ease about everything else must mean that the rest of her story was true. If it had been a lie as well, she would have been just as nervous while telling the rest."
"You mean, she is not with the Vicomte, she is truly trying to get back on stage, and she has spent a lot of time in Sweden?" Erik asked surprised. "Why would she not have married the Vicomte, such a handsome, rich, respected young man that could give her the world? Why would she have to work at a theater again?"
Nadir shrugged. "There could be any number of reasons," he pointed out. "Maybe his family did not approve, or she thought that her name was tainted after the scandal and the fire and that she therefore could not marry him, or maybe she realized that as a Vicomtesse she could not pursue a career as a singer any longer and that that was what she really wanted?"
There was yet another explanation as Nadir suddenly realized. Hadn't Erik told him that that fatal night Christine had kissed him, supposedly to manipulate him into letting Raoul go free, but hadn't she kissed him twice? Why had she done that? One kiss would have been enough, wouldn't it have been? Had she maybe enjoyed that first kiss? Had she come to realize over the next few days that her feelings for Erik were different from those for Raoul, stronger? Had that been the reason for the break-up between her and the Vicomte?
He did not dare put this theory into words, though. He could not get Erik's hopes up, for if he was wrong in that regard, the disappointment could crush his friend.
"What if she truly is seeking employment," he asked instead. "Would you want her here? Could you keep your relationship with her strictly professional, or would it be too painful for you to see her on a daily basis and having to keep your distance?"
"You believe her story?" Erik's voice was shaking. "Of course, if she truly wants – or even needs – the job then she should get it. If the boy has deserted her, she will need somebody to protect her, especially if she were on her own, unchaperoned. If she stays here, we can keep an eye on her, make sure she is safe... Of course she cannot know that I am here as well," he added quickly.
"Oh Erik," Nadir sighed. "Will you never learn how to interact with people? If we do offer her the job, she needs to know who she will be working for. You cannot hide from her forever. Sooner or later she would discover who the artistic director is, and then she would feel manipulated by you again. No, the only way for her to work here is for you to play with open cards and tell her that you are the boss. Erik, even before I knew who she was, I told her that the final decision lies with my associate, that she may have to come back to meet you. I still think, this is the only way. "
"But what if she truly needs the job and refuses it because of my presence here?" Erik objected. "I would not want to drive her away in that case."
"If she does not want to work with you, it will be her decision and hers alone," Nadir explained. "She has the right to live her own life the way she wants it to. Let's just wait and see how she decides. Maybe we can give her a letter of recommendation for a neighboring theater, should she not want to stay."
Erik nodded. He was not entirely convinced that this was a good idea, and he somehow dreaded having to meet Christine after how he had treated her that fatal night, but Nadir could be very persuasive, and truth be told, they did need a leading lady with Christine's talent, and if she could be persuaded to take the job and he could see her on a daily basis... that would be heaven, pure heaven!
"Fine, tell her to come tomorrow afternoon, at around three," he finally informed Nadir. "You meet her at the door and bring her to my office, and then we'll see... "
Nadir smiled. "That's the right attitude, Erik," he told his friend, putting a comforting hand on Erik's still shaking shoulder. "And when she is here, let me do most of the talking, after all, I am a neutral party here. I will try to convince her to stay, since we truly could use her talent."
