"Go fetch the priest."
"What about the girl?"
"Go get the priest, it is bad enough he is dying I won't have him dying without last rites on my conscience now go!"
Feet quickly moved across the floor and a door slammed shut. The older woman muttered "fool". She turned around and sighed.
"Little girl, do you know what's happening?"
A little girl sat on a stool by the fire. She had watched the whole scene play out with her wide eyes. She sat somberly watching the stairs, listening to the distant coughing. She looked at the woman who addressed her. She shook her head.
The woman sighed, "your father is dying. It is time to say goodbye."
The little girl stared, the woman tapped her foot impatiently. She was given a moment of respite when there was a knock on the door. The old woman hurried to the door and opened it cautiously.
"We are from the opera house, we are here to see Gustave Daae."
The woman opened the door skeptically and showed them in.
"He is upstairs."
The man and woman hesitated at the door before coming in.
"Is this the girl?" The woman asked.
"Yes,"
"Is that all she has to wear?"
"I have had to burn all of the other clothing."
"But she is not sick is she?" The older woman shrugged. The other woman stared sharply at her.
"There is also the matters of his estate." The man said, clearing his throat.
"There will not be much left, it all has to be burned."
He rolled his eyes and sighed as he heard the coughing from above. They began to climb the stairs. The older woman huffed, her hands on her hips. She turned around quickly and grabbed the little girl by the arm, dragging her upstairs. As they ascended the coughing got louder, occasionally replaced by a low moaning. The man pushed the door open.
"Papa?" The little girl asked. She pushed through the adults until she stood in front of the bed. Gustave Daae was dying. He lay on a bed with a single candle burning, he turned to his daughters voice.
"Christine come here."
She crept toward his side, she looked at the adults arguing amongst themselves.
"My child, I have not long for this world. But I will still watch over you."
He moved his hand to hold hers.
"When I'm in heaven child, I will send an angel of music to watch over you. You will not be alone."
He coughed, blood dribbling down his chin.
Hands grabbed Christine and pulled her away.
"I got the priest!"
Christine was pulled even further away from the bed, as she began to cry. She stood there sobbing silently as the priest administered last rites. She watched her father cough and cough until he breathed no more.
"Papa!? Papa!?" Christine screamed.
"Get the girl out of here, gather his belongings for the fire."
"Not everything," the man said.
Christine was led out of the room, through tearful eyes she watched the priest cover her father with a blanket. She was led downstairs.
"Girl," Christine was too stunned to answer, she was slapped. "Girl this is Madame Giry, she is from the opera house. They have offered you a spot in their ballet academy in honor of your late father and his work there instead of you being on the streets. Go with her now, there is nothing for you here."
Christine looked at the other woman, tears still streaming down her cheeks. Madame Giry offered her a hand, Christine reluctantly took it and they walked out of the house together into the streets of Paris.