A/N: Hans Christian Andersen wrote the story of The Little Mermaid in 1836.
The character Jules Bernard, has been stolen outright from Susan Kay's novel Phantom. The child Reza is also a character from that book.
Once again, gracious readers, your thoughts and impressions are worth their weight in gold. If you would be so kind as to read and review…
Chapter 7 Protégé
They circled the room, moving en masse, the twenty little ballerinas, as they followed the two older girls who boldly led them. They bobbed along like so many leaves floating upon a mountain stream that cascades to the forest below.
The ballet mistress entered the room, and clapped her hands loudly. "All right now children. Line up for your plies. Quickly!"
Mme. DuBois moved among the children, and gathered them into a line.
"Watch your backs. Stay in position. Hold up your chins!"
She stood facing the cluster of students as she studied their moves. Watching as their young bodies balanced into that abnormal position, she noted which children had perfected the basic movement and which were still struggling.
She was doing her best not to feel discouraged with their performance. The children were raw and inexperienced, and many were quite young. None showed a hint of exceptional talent. She had hoped that at least one possessed the special qualities that hallmarked great potential. To work with a gifted child would have been exciting and would have made the rest of the routine work worthwhile.
A former ballerina, Manette DuBois hoped to make a name for herself by teaching at the Opera Populaire. She had been a good dancer, and had danced for two years before she had met and married her husband. This was her first teaching job.
"Children, it's time for lunch." The children broke from the line, and scattered across the room. They snatched up their street shoes, and gathered in small groups of friends. Although it was Wednesday, the older girls were already making plans for the weekend. The younger girls were gossiping about local happenings and tidbits of information they had heard from the older girls. A few of the girls would visit their families this weekend, but most would remain here.
As they moved down the wide hall, their clear voices preceded them. Jade heard them approach, and joined them as they passed the office.
"Good day Mme. DuBois. If you please, I would like to talk with you."
"Good day, Mademoiselle. Please, join us."
Manette DuBois gave Jade a lovely warm smile, and focused her beautiful brown eyes on her. She was curious about this silent young woman who she rarely saw except in the café. Manette noticed that she always took her meals alone, and never lingered to speak with the rest of the staff. At times there was a far off look in her eyes, as if she were unaware of the people around her. Manette enjoyed watching Jade because she had the lithe grace of a dancer. She was curious about whether the woman had had formal training in dance.
"Mme DuBois, I would like to take one of your pupils away from her routine tonight. May I take Gillian out to dinner, and bring her back to the dormitory at around nine?"
Manette considered the request. Gillian was an orphan who had been brought here by family members, and as far as she knew, was more or less a permanent resident of the opera house. She had spent her first week making inquiries about each of her charges' history, and was especially concerned for the children who either had no family or whose family had abandoned them. It would be fortunate if the child had a kind adult in her life. It might help her feel less afraid of ghosts and other such nonsense, she considered.
"Of course, Mademoiselle. Can you come for her after five this evening? Their supper is at six. You can bring her directly to the dormitories at around nine." She smiled warmly at Jade, and gave her an encouraging nod.
"Yes, Madame. I will meet you at the café. Thank you." Jade nodded, and quickly left the group before Mme. DuBois could engage her in further conversation.
During lunch, Jade visited some of the local merchants' shops. First, she went to a dressmaker to be fitted for several outfits. Next, she visited the place that she had seen earlier, that sold the riding clothes. Walking down the street, she held the parcels tightly, exhilarated by her good fortune. If it were possible, I would toss aside this dress and pass my days in these leather breeches, she thought with delight.She fervently wished she lived in another place or time where women had the same freedom as men and where everyone who desired to, without exception, could wear pants.
Her last stop was a bookstore that was several streets from the opera house. Stepping through the door, she heard the silvery sound of a bell. It was fairy-like and sent a happy chill along her arms. A white haired woman with spectacles sat behind the counter. She glanced up at Jade, and smiled briefly.
Jade turned around, taking in the shop's interior, and saw wall to wall books. Through the door into the room beyond, she could see more shelves with even more books. Her eyes widened, and she began to scan the ceiling high shelves that were crowded with hundreds of titles. How wonderful, she thought, and she wished she had more time to linger there.
"Good day Madame. May I help you?" asked the white haired woman.
"Good day Madame. Do you have any children's books?"
The woman led Jade to the adjacent room, and pointed to several shelves.
"How old is the child in question?"
"I'd say six or seven years old," stated Jade as she bent down, and touched one of the books. "Do you have any books with fairy tales?" she asked, turning to the older woman.
The woman laughed merrily. "Yes Madame. Please be seated and I will bring them to you."
Jade sat at a table, and for the next fifteen minutes, poured through the books the shopkeeper set before her.
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At last it was five o'clock and Jade was finished with the office work. She gathered up her parcels from a corner, and walked quickly to her room. Unlocking her door, she placed the parcels on the bed, and then surveyed the changes that she had made to the room.
In a vase on the chest of drawers was a large bunch of daisies. Their bright, unblinking yellow eyes planted an intense cheerfulness into the room. One wall was covered with a golden tapestry that had deep red tassels, with flying birds and deer embroidered upon it. It was a striking embellishment, and gave a theatrical quality to the room. She had borrowed it from the props department. In front of the large mirror was a small blue and white rug on which were piled cushions. On the table were plates of bread, cheese and fruit, as well as a small pie that she had purchased that morning from a nearby pastry shop. Taking a brightly wrapped parcel from the pile, she placed it on the table as she admired its big yellow bow.
Before leaving the room, she lit the candles, and turned on the gaslight.
The dining area was humming with activity. The children were gathered around their table as they waited for their dinner. Gillian was seated next to another small girl, and the two were huddled together in excited conversation.
When Gillian saw Jade coming towards them, she jumped out of her chair, and flew across the room. Pouncing on her, she possessively grabbed the woman's hand. Then she looked up intensely into her friend's face with a broad smile. Jade gazed at the excited child, and restrained her own desire to grin.
Gillian talked the entire time that they walked to Jade's room, and related every scrap of gossip she'd heard since their last meeting. One of her friends would be leaving this weekend to spend time with her family, and would bring her a gift when she returned. One of the older ballerinas was in love with a delivery boy. Marie, her friend, had a terrible cold and wouldn't have to go to classes for several days…
Arriving at her room, Jade ushered the child in. They were greeted by the radiance of a dozen candles clustered next to the large, wall mirror. Gillian was enthralled by the room's lavish decorations. Running to the tapestry, she stroked its silky surface. Then she noticed the food, and rushed to the table. Pie!
They sat together, and shared a merry meal. The child did most of the talking as Jade listened serenely. She loved the girl's musical voice and the excitement that inhabited every aspect of her. She was a small ball of fire that blazed away the dimness of Jade's loneliness.
At the end of the meal, Jade handed Gillian the colorful package, and motioned for her to open it. Inside was a children's book of fairy tales. The child studied each picture as she rubbed her fingers across them, and sighed mightily when she found one that was particularly pleasing. They moved to the rug, where they sat on the piled up cushions. Jade held the child near to her as she opened the book.
"Shall I read you a story?" she asked Gillian.
"Yes, please!" Gillian cried enthusiastically.
"This one is called, The Little Mermaid."
She softly read about the little sea princess who fell hopelessly in love with a handsome prince. It was a sad story, because the maiden gave up everything she knew and held dear in order to gain his love. Although she was graceful on her new legs, it was very painful for her to use them. In the end, the mermaid didn't win the prince's love. But because of her love for him, she gained a soul.
As she read to the child, Jade stroked her hair. The little girl rested quietly in her arms, content. It was nearly nine o'clock when she closed the book. Gillian was still awake, and wanted more stories.
"Jade, why is your hair short?"
Jade smiled at that. Her dark hair hung a little below her shoulders. It was thick and glossy, and definitely different from that of other women.
"Well, my dear, I cut it because someone told me that they needed a woman's hair to make a wig, and that mine would be perfect. So, I let her take some of my hair." What she didn't say was that she had sold her hair for enough money to get to Paris.
Gillian's eyes widened.
"Marie says that hair is a girl's…" She paused, searching for the word. "Glory. It makes the boys like you."
Jade smiled. "Yes, darling. It does make some men happy to see a woman's beautiful hair. But, it's not really all that important. It will grow back soon enough. Besides, women have other gifts that are more important."
"What?" said the child who was listening intently.
"A kind heart and a good mind. That is what's important."
Gillian nodded sleepily, and then snuggled next to Jade as her eyes closed.
Jade picked up the child, and swept the hair from her eyes. Then she carried her to the dormitory where she undressed her, and put her to bed. After kissing Gillian's forehead, she stared for a moment at her corn silk hair, which gleamed from the hallway light.
Later that night, as she lay beneath her covers, Jade thought of the fairytale. It was a story that she had always loved. She wanted the child to hear it for the first time with a sense of hope. The lesson was that love, even when it was painful, was still extraordinary and sustaining.
She rolled over and faced the wall. There was a sweet melody in her mind that was the voice of a child laughing and singing. As she slept deeply, the lilting sounds led her to a place of peace.
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That evening, he returned to the opera house after spending several hours discussing his business affairs with Jules Bernard. When they had finished, he gave Jules directions on how to proceed with several upcoming projects. As he traveled along the darker streets of the city, he carried under his arm requests for architectural plans from prospective clients.
In the last year, his business had continued to flourish. His success was facilitated by Jules' impeccable honesty and capable business decisions. The projects they had completed since the opera house fire had been another exercise that had kept his mind occupied. The dramatic scope of his designs as well as their originality made his work highly desirable. He had often wondered how his ideas would have been received if his clients had known that they had been produced by the infamous "Opera Ghost."
He had not needed the "wage" that he had formerly demanded from the managers of the Opera Populaire. It had been merely another one of the devices that he had used to control them.
In his hands were parcels of new clothing that he had specified that Jules order. Over the last few months, there had been some changes in men's fashion that were worth adding to his current wardrobe.
Laying his goods down, he took the passage that led to the management's offices. In DuChant's office, he rifled through letters and account books. He quickly took in the activities of the preceding two weeks, and determined the current state of the opera house's affairs. Auditions were scheduled to begin next week for the cast. Some of those to be auditioned possessed some artistic ability, whereas others would be a disaster for the Opera Populaire's reputation if they were hired. He removed the letters that were to be sent to objectionable individuals. He also pocketed preliminary letters to three potential patrons that had no business being involved with the opera. If rerouting paperwork failed, he had other tricks up his sleeve that he would use.
On his way back to the lower floors, he suddenly had an impulse to check on the young woman who he had recently seen on the roof. Her performance had had an uncanny effect on his sleeping habits in the last couple of nights. He hadn't slept this well in over a year.
Approaching her room, he saw the bright light shining through the mirror. She was sitting at a table eating her dinner, and talking with one of the opera children. He had seen the child before. She was memorable because of her nearly white hair.
He stood by the mirror, and listened to their conversation. The child was prattling on about everything, probably thankful to have an adult listening to her. The woman seemed taken with the child. Her eyes did not leave the little girl's face, even when the chatter became incoherent.
They moved close to the mirror, and the woman read a story. He leaned forward as he listened. It was a lovely, if somewhat sad tale of unrequited love. She appeared to be reading it with deep feelings as she gently held the child to her. Frequently, she would touch the little girl tenderly, as if she were a precious gift.
He had also wondered about the length of the woman's hair. That plus the breeches had caused him to mistake her for a boy when he saw her ride.
So, she sold her hair to a wig maker, not too long ago. And then she came here. Women did not sell their hair unless they were impoverished. Whatever she had gotten for it, it hadn't safeguarded her from the desperate state that he had first seen her in.
When she left with the child, he turned towards his home.
Striding down the passages towards the lake, he thought of the woman and the girl. Over the years, he had seen similar scenes of parents interacting with a beloved son or daughter. It was one of the few redeeming qualities that he found in people, their ability to make sacrifices for the love of a child. He had experienced it himself with his tenderness and concern for the small, crippled Persian boy, Reza.
He guided the boat across the lake, and arrived at his door. Carrying the parcels into his home, he tossed his cloak onto a chair, and set the parcels on the divan. After replenishing some of the candles that had burned out, he laid the requests for architectural plans on a large table that contained recent sketches. Pulling out a clean pad of paper, he sat down and began to work. Quickly, he sketched ideas that had come to him while he had spoken with Jules. Immersed in the task, he lost track of time.
After hours had passed, he absentmindedly picked up a piece of soft charcoal, and moved to a smaller pad, as he continued to sketch. He worked on it dreamily, unaware of what hidden thought was guiding him and inspiring his effort. By then he was quite tired and only vaguely aware of what he was doing. After a few minutes, he abandoned his work, and stretched out on his bed.
Awakening in the late morning, he casually walked to the kitchen, and prepared his breakfast. It was a simple fare of bread and cheese. Carrying his plate to the table where he had worked the night before, he stared down at the piles of sketches scattered across the surface. It had been a good night's work. His mind had been clear, and the ideas had flown out of his head at a breakneck speed.
As he ate his meal, he sorted through the papers in front of him, reviewing what he had done. On top of one of the piles, he found an unfamiliar sketch. I must have done this just before I went to bed, he thought absently. It was a picture of a Madonna with her child. The sheen he had drawn on the dark hair of the woman gave it the semblance of a halo. The child's pale hair was a nimbus that framed her angelic face.
It was a picture of Jade and the child. He smiled, and was a little bemused at his unconscious choice of subjects.
Rising from his seat, he carried the sketch to a wall that displayed other personal sketches that he had made. He placed it next to an older drawing of Reza. His eyes softened as he regarded the two drawings together.
Moving back to the table, he once again lost himself in his work.