Her case may any day Be yours, my dear or mine. Let her make her hay while the sun doth shine. Let us compromise, our hearts are not of leather. Let us shut our eyes and talk about the weather. - Pirates of Penzance, Gilbert and Sullivan
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Chapter 7
~o~
The day after visiting the cafe, Christine was impatient for her evening lesson. She had heard nothing from her teacher, which Christine worried was a sign of displeasure.
That night, she approached the rehearsal hall with hesitance, not sure what mood she would find on the other side.
Exhaling, she pushed opened the door and was greeted by a soft piano piece that was being played by her spectral teacher. His ethereal voice filled her mind.
"I trust you made it home safely?" There was a hard edge in his voice.
She swallowed her nerves. "I... I am sorry for putting you in that position. Please- thank you for helping me."
"I will always be there when you are in need, Christine," he replied, his voice low, almost solemn. "But, you will do well to not test my patience, my muse. Music will not take half-hearted devotees. You must commit yourself fully to your work."
She nodded, chastised, and gave a small curtsy if respect.
"Now, let us begin," he added curtly before playing the opening arpeggios to the first of their regular warmups. He would take her through several exercises, pausing to speak to her as she rested from the previous exercise.
"How do you feel your career is going?" he asked, his tone that of a caring teacher, learning more about his student.
"It's been a bit of a whirlwind, to be honest," she admitted. One day I'm stepping on stage for the first time as a ballet rat- the next I'm singing arias!"
He nodded. "Things are progressing fantastically on the technical side of things. How do you feel things are for the social and, dare I say, personal side?" He was referring of course to her patronage...As if he didn't know exactly what was transpiring.
Her eyes widened and darted around the room, searching for an answer. "I... suppose all is well. You've obviously seen how last night went." Christine smiled without humor. "I was invited for the first time. I thought it would be fun."
"It did go well. You showed great promise, though I feel the Vicomte took his familiarity with you a bit too far." He paused, asking "Is that all that is occuring in your life?"
She wracked her brain, unable to figure out the right choice. She did not know if knowledge of a suitor would scare her teacher away. Or anger him. But she couldn't afford to turn the generous donor down. She shrugged noncommittally, looking down uncomfortably.
"Well?" he asked, his tone insistent and impatient. Behind the glass mirror where he lingered, the Ghost couldn't help but smirk. It was amusing, if a bit perverse, to toy with her a bit, especially after the danger she put herself in last night.
"That is all, Monsieur," she answered in a small voice.
"Very well then...Let us continue." He couldn't let on much, but it troubled him that she would hide something so serious from him. He would have to devise a solution to this.
Christine left the lesson feeling awful and spent the rest of the evening tossing and turning, wracked with guilt.
_
The following day was filled almost entirely by dance, but an energetic anticipation staved off any physical fatigue. Tonight would be the final rehearsal for Faust and Christine felt the excitement from stepping onto the stage for the first time come rushing back into her body.
And as tonight was the final dress, it was a wonderful time for her patron and secret admirer to show his affection for her. She arrived to the Dancer's Foyer before the run and one of the page boys who was regularly sent to deliver gifts to the girls approached her with a small box.
She returned to the chorus dressing room to open it, finding a new pair of white gloves, almost similar to the pair she had worn last night; only fresh and elegant. The note with it was simple.
"May these keep your hands warm against the autumn chill in absence of mine."
She almost cried, but the sound of other girls approaching allowed her to stuff her emotions back into the box along with the gloves. She buried the box into her coat and hurried to get into costume and make up.
The dress would be rather rocky, as far as runs went. It was obvious that the new production would be successful, but there were still clearly some jitters that were flaring up and needed to be worked out. Still, the mood was positive was when the rehearsal ended and the stage manager called to them on the stage, going over last minute announcements.
"Remember, finery and masks are mandatory for the gala tomorrow night," he reminded those from the cast who were attending.
Christine ambled off to return her angel wings to the properties master when she heard her teacher in her head.
"Are you attending the ball, my child?" He asked, for her ears only.
She jumped, as she always did. "Oh! I ...it's mandatory, teacher."
"Good. You have a dress and mask, then?"
She froze, thinking she should reveal the truth. But all her strength failed her, so she simply nodded.
"I trust then that you will enjoy yourself, and responsibly keep your progress as a singer in the front of your mind the entire time." His voice had an instructive edge to it.
She ducked her head, flushing. "Of course, teacher!" she whispered with reverence.
When she returned to her dressing room, she would find yet another box for her. Inside rested an elegant red mask of the same style as her dress; a perfect compliment.
A thrill of exhilaration ran through Christine. Her secret admirer had implied that he would be at the masquerade. She indulged in some childish fantasies that some handsome prince would come to whisk her away. She went to bed smiling, an event that startled her roommates as it was such a rare occurrence.
