Manette adjusted the costume of the petite ballerina as she deftly tucked and pinned the damaged fabric. They were nearly ready for the rehearsal of the Dance of Little Moorish Slaves and there was no time for the dancer to slip out of the garment. The five foot high platform was in place with the principal playing Amneris perched on top. Two of the dancers leaned against its side partially taking weight off of their tired legs while they nursed minor injuries. Manette watched them with sympathy. It would be a long day for them.
She looked up and saw Pierre approaching. He was threading his way between sets and props with a determined look. As he brushed against a cluster of performers who refused to give way, a rain of curses were flung at him. He continued forward without a backward glance.
Leaving the stage, Manette quickly moved to a side entrance, and stood under a stand of palm trees where she waited for Pierre to join her.
"Pierre, I'm glad to see you," she said, as she smiled. His hair was disheveled and he looked as if he'd been running his fingers through it. He opened his mouth to speak but she quickly put her finger to her lips to signal silence.
They left the crowded stage area and made their way through the halls to the outdoors. As they descended the stairs to the plaza, Manette looked around for privacy. A quarter of a mile later, they found a bench on a tiny patch of lawn.
The wind blew in gusts and scattered dry leaves across their feet. Manette was shivering as she arranged her skirt before sitting down. Noticing her discomfort, Pierre removed his cloak and draped it around her shoulders. As he covered her chilled hands with his own, he wondered what they were doing there. Why the secrecy? he wondered.
The wind tugged her curls from their pins and scattered them about her forehead. Her cheeks were raw and rosy, and her eyes shone brightly with excitement.
As she eyed the sidewalk traffic she leaned towards him and spoke quietly. "Pierre, Jade wants me to tell you that she is fine, and will be returning to work on Saturday."
Pierre relaxed a little. He had hoped that Manette would be able to tell him more about his friend. He already had a letter in his pocket from Jade that DuChant had given him earlier that day. It read:
Dear Pierre,
Thank you for your kind attentions last Friday and Saturday. I have decided to follow your advice and spend time away from the Opera Populaire while I'm recovering from my illness. I will hopefully return on this coming Saturday.
Please don't worry about me. I am feeling much better and I am well cared for.
I will contact you again when I return to the opera house.
Jade
"Where is she?" he asked as he gently pressed her hands.
Manette replied, "she is staying with my husband and me at our apartment. She will meet with you on Saturday. Please, I can say no more at this time. She told me to tell you that she will explain it when she sees you."
They walked back to the opera house, which loomed ahead. Its multicolored columns gleamed in the sunlight—a graceful embellishment to an otherwise massive structure.
A large cart rolled down the street and passed them with a rumbling of rough wheels on pavement. The driver was shouting at the horses that pulled the heavy load. The wind flattened their manes against tired faces as the whip cracked along their harnesses. As she watched that bleak picture, Manette shivered. Since the recent beating of the horse in the opera house stable, she had become more sensitive to the routine cruelties of the streets. She looked away and quickened her pace.
They crossed the Place de l'Opera, and ascended the stairs to the opera house. As they climbed the stairs, Pierre looked down at the lovely woman by his side, and wondered who the man was that she and Jade were hiding from.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
A little later, DuChant and Pierre sat in the sunny office, as they finished their lunch. It was Wednesday, the day of Pierre's weekly delivery to the opera café. Normally by now, Pierre would be heading back to his home instead of lingering in the opera house.
DuChant pulled out a bottle of brandy from a cabinet, and poured a couple of drinks. After handing one to his friend, he stretched his legs under the desk, and stared at the hefty paunch that he was developing. He looked like many men of his age and class, with excess settling around his waist. Glancing at Pierre, he noted his muscular build. The man was in his prime and very fit.
His friend was in love again. Men are often foolish when they first fall in love, he reflected. And it can make them annoyingly persistent. Pierre had spent the last part of the hour questioning him about Jade.
Talking about her reminded DuChant of the threatening note from the week before. Jade's explanatory note to him that the letter was from an impetuous admirer hadn't tempered his annoyance. She was beginning to feel like trouble. If it weren't for his friend's intense interest in her, he would have let her go.
DuChant glanced at his desk that was piled with requisitions and correspondence, and then looked to the outer office where his secretary sat hunched over another loaded down desk. Requests for supplies and services were pouring into his office. He was too busy to be concerned about one employee who wasn't even a principal. He was still searching for a music director. It was a fait accompli that Mme. Deschamps would continue to fill that role for this opera but it was his job to find someone for the next.
Sipping the fine brandy, he picked up the conversation where they had left off.
"I know as much as you do, Pierre. What's important is that Jade's feeling better. She has a good head on her shoulders, and she'll be back when she's ready."
Pierre slowly shook his head. "I don't think it's that simple, Jacque. Remember the note you showed me last Friday, the one that threatened you if you didn't release her from work? Whoever sent that to you might be pursuing her. She may have left because of him."
DuChant looked thoughtfully over Pierre's shoulder. An idea had come to him. There was something familiar about that anonymous note, but he couldn't place it. He shrugged his shoulders, and turned his attention to his friend.
"Well then, Pierre, we'll have to ask her when she returns, no? Until then, let's not make any assumptions."
Changing the subject, he asked, "And how are things with your family?"
Pierre's frown deepened. "Lucien has lost half his crop. The vines are failing from the blight."
DuChant whistled softly. Pierre's brother owned a vineyard near their childhood village, and it was his sole livelihood. The blight had infected the local vineyards seven years ago, but Lucien's vineyard had been spared until the year before last. And now it was finally happening.
The grape blight was destroying the lives of many French farmers. Vast tracts of land had become useless for wine production. As a result, people were leaving their communities and migrating to the cities and even to America. The blight had become a serious disaster for the French economy that rivaled the economic woes caused by the war of 1870.
DuChant gave his friend a sympathetic look.
"If he decides to leave the village, he can come here Pierre. I'll do what I can to help him find work."
Pierre nodded grimly. Then he emptied his brandy glass and took his leave.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Jade lit ten candles and grouped them around the chair. The vivid pocket of light waxed and waned in the cool air of her room. Ten tiny soldiers of illumination, she mused. Let them defeat any misunderstandings that may arise tonight.
It was Friday evening and her first night back at the Opera Populaire.
The food was laid out on the table. There was no wine to serve since she could only afford a low quality one, which wasn't worth the price. She could have bought absinthe instead, but had decided against it. It lacked the complex flavor of wine, and merely deadened inhibitions. A bad choice for tonight, she concluded.
It was chilly and she wished she had a fireplace. The heat and the sweet smell of burning pine with its soft crackle would have comforted her nerves. It also would soften the atmosphere and evoke a receptive mood. Tonight she would need all the help she could get.
Sometime in the last week, Erik had been in her room. There was no evidence of malice but the cloak was gone. He had taken back his gift.
Glancing at the door, she thought of his smooth, and silent stride whenever he entered her room. How would he behave tonight? Would he be angry? Or would he be tolerant and gentle?
Jade opened the door and looked down the hallway. Ten o'clock. Maybe he won't come tonight.
All week she'd been thinking of Erik. She'd sketched him in her mind, and remembered every detail of their time together. In the end, she'd concluded that beneath his distance and indifference was loneliness. Jade felt it because it echoed her own.
She opened the dresser and pulled out a wrap. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, she paused and took in her appearance. Her loose fitting robe with rolled up sleeves made her look dowdy and unattractive.
There isn't a chance that he would entertain the same foolish feelings for me that I have for him. With that thought, she sighed with relief.She was still pondering the unexpected feelings she'd discovered earlier that week. The mere thought of being intimate with him was chilling.
But to become his friend, that's an entirely different matter.
Could they be friends? It would be difficult. He was very intelligent and sometimes kind. He was also impulsive, threatening, and someone who either didn't comprehend or didn't respect personal boundaries.
Tonight she would try, and see what would come of it.
Jade threw a wrap around her shoulders, and sat on the brightly lit chair as she waited. The oily smell of wax, and the shadow play on the walls were very relaxing. She was fully recovered from her illness of last week except for an inordinate need for sleep. The flickering light drained the tension from her mind, and after a half hour of waiting, her chin dropped to her chest and she fell fast asleep.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Erik watched her from the mirror as she lit the candles.
She was building a tier of light around the chair and it caught his interest. What was she up to?
There was food for a guest and a floral arrangement on the table. Whoever she was waiting for, she was offering her best. Was it for the child? That might explain the array of candles. The light would please the little girl. However, it was late for her to be visiting.
He waited for her unknown visitor to arrive. After awhile, her head dipped and her chin rested upon her chest. No one came.
The boy that Jules had hired to watch the ballet teacher's apartment had reported that Jade had stayed inside the apartment the entire week.
So, she obeyed my orders except for her willful Sunday trip, he snorted. He was past the anger he had felt towards her on Monday, and was looking forward to seeing her again.
He left the passage, and walked to her room. Unlocking the door, he quietly slid inside and then locked it again.
Standing a couple of feet away, he examined her. Her breathing was regular and effortless without a hint of wheezing. Her color looked good and her skin was moist and healthy. She looked fully recovered from her illness.
He enjoyed being near her without her being aware of him. It was much better than watching her from the mirror. Her small hands were in her lap and her hair partially covered her face. It had grown since he had first seen her. Only an inch or so, but it was obvious by the way it hung around her shoulders, with the extra weight pulling down the mass above. It would be even more beautiful when it was long: a thick, straight, and glossy veil. How different it was from Christine's abundant curls.
Christine. It had been nearly a week since he had last thought of her. The woman in front of him was a welcome distraction.
Erik sat in the chair at the table and noticed the book he had lent her. Had she finished it yet? He had wanted to bring her a new one tonight. However, there was another matter that needed to be attended to first.
Leaning forward, he loudly cleared his throat, and she began to stir.
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Jade's eyelashes fluttered as she slowly turned her head and looked at the curtain of light shimmering to her left. Shapes swirled and coalesced, and then the black cape on her bed came into sharp focus. She blinked and slowly turned towards the table.
He was sitting next to the table with his right arm resting on it and his legs stretched out. He was looking directly at her, his face expressionless. They stared across the room at each other for a minute. Then his lips moved.
"Where did you go, Jade?" His voice was silky and low.
She held his gaze and replied. "I went to a friend's home."
"And whose home was that?" His voice was closer, but he hadn't moved from his chair. His expression was distant and detached.
Lowering her eyes, she answered quietly, "I can't tell you, Erik."
There was a loaded silence, and then he continued.
"You disobeyed me Jade." The voice was only a few feet in front of her. She felt her skin creep up at the eeriness of it since she knew he was in the chair.
"I know, and I am sorry for that."
"I find that difficult to believe." His voice was near enough that she expected to feel the warmth of his breath sweep her face.
"I would have stayed if I could, but I needed to go." She stared at her hands, and didn't hide her discomfort. I must show what I am feeling if he is to trust me.
"And why did you feel that need?" The voice in her ear was soft and seductive, with an undertone of threat. It felt like he was crawling into her head and was quite unnerving.
"Because, I needed to be alone." A few drops of sweat formed on her brow.
"Alone from whom, Jade?" The harshness of his voice startled her, and she inadvertently looked up.
He was standing in front of her with his face inches from her own.
"From you, Erik," she whispered. She lifted her chin up, and looked into his eyes. His stare pinned her to the chair, and her heart pounded in defiance.
Something flickered in Erik's eyes, and then he backed away very slowly as he held her gaze. She was hypnotized as her eyes followed him.
As his face gradually receded into the shadows, it seemed as if he were moving in slow motion. It stirred up a memory.
She was in a boat, and staring over its edge, and Jean-Luc was sinking into the water below. His eyes were open as he drifted deeper into the lake. Jade gripped the boat's edge and froze as she watched his descent. Then she was kneeling on the shore and trying to revive him. He lay there with his skin pale and cool, and his eyes closed. She slapped his face to awaken him and then shook him hard. His head flopped and hit the ground with a sickening thud as she fought down an overwhelming sense of uselessness and panic.
The faint buzzing in her head changed to a roar. Jade leaped from the chair, and pushed the memory away. She stumbled and then braced herself for the fall but instead of hitting the floor, strong hands pulled her up.
Erik's arms were clasped about her and holding her tightly. She was back in her room. The beach was gone and so was Jean-Luc.
She stared up into his face with blinking eyes. He was looking down at her with a slight frown and a startled look in his eyes.
Lifting her up, he carried her to the bed and then gently laid her on it. He reached down and brushed the hair from her forehead, and laid his hand there for a moment.
"You do not have a fever," he muttered. "Whatever possessed you to do that?"
Leaving her side, he returned in a moment with a cup of water. She sat up and took it from him.
0000
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Jade sat at the table, played with her food, and occasionally glanced up at Erik. She didn't feel like eating. Instead, she felt exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep and forget about the heartache that had been stirred up by her addled brain. She wanted to crawl into bed, and slip into oblivion.
Maybe she could excuse herself and ask Erik to lock the door when he was finished, and by the way, would he be so kind as to blow out the candles before he left? She shook her head at the absurdity. She really was losing her grip.
Looking up at him, their eyes met. What does he think of me? she wondered.
She knew that he was watching her. A little earlier he had been menacing her with an odd trick of his voice. Probably my punishment, she thought dully as she poked at her food with a fork. And now he was sitting across from her and looking concerned. What an up and down experience it is to be with him.
When it was time for him to leave, Erik paused at the door and looked back at her.
"Jade, you may return to your work in the opera house. However, it would be best if you waited a little longer before working in the stable. It is fine for you to go outside for a walk as long as you wear the proper clothing and do not get chilled."
She nodded briefly, and then began to blow out the candles.
Erik stood there a moment longer. Then he left and locked the door behind him.
Jade finally lay down and curled up under the covers. She thought of the soft cloak, which had been made for her. For some reason, it had become a comfort. She would miss it.
As she finally started to drift off, the three men in her life appeared: Erik, Pierre, and Jean-Luc.
They hovered near, and she felt strong arms holding her. Who they belonged to didn't matter anymore. She pushed her face deeper into the pillow and gave herself up to the comfort, as sleep eased her into its kind embrace.