Christine dans Deux
An Alternate Multiverse – A Phantom of the Opera Story
Nyasia A. Maire
© 2006
DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Seventy-Three – Six Octaves of Separation
"I can't help it! I'm just so damn nervous. If I don't stop biting my bottom lip, I think I'm gonna to pierce it pretty damn soon! What the hell is wrong with me?"
My voice sounds shrill to my ears, almost a shriek really. It is this more than anything else that calms me. Growing up with a mother whose favorite way of communicating with her six children was grandiose displays of screaming and yelling helped me to decide that whatever else I was when I grew up I would not be a screamer. Well, at least not outside of the bedroom, anyway. My exhibition of emotional flamboyance leaves me shocked and disgusted with myself. Just another reminder of the unforeseen aftereffects of my time spent as Christine's "roomie."
Muttering, I stop as soon as I realize that I'm talking to myself.
"Well, at least that's something I've always done. It's all me and none of her."
Sighing, I close my eyes and force myself to relax. Inhaling deeply then slowly releasing it, I bring my ragged breathing under control. I tilt my head back and roll it back and forth from shoulder to shoulder, left to right, right to left, and back again. One more cleansing breath and I open my eyes.
Time to sneak off to my private retreat. Christine had brought me here shortly after our return to Paris when I told her I needed a quiet place to practice. The painted figures on the walls are faded giving them a ghostly appearance.
I chuckle.
"How appropriate! The angels of music really are opera ghosts now."
Standing in the middle of the room, I allow my body to adjust itself into the proper stance. I pull out my tuning fork, give it a rap and hold it to my ear. Again. Concentrating on the tone, I listen intently, fixing the note in my memory. I replay the note in my head, making certain I can hear it clearly and then I sing it. Finally, I double-check my pitch by singing the note and tapping the tuning fork at the same time. After my impromptu 'sound check,' I slip the fork back into my pocket and then I begin my warm-up with scales. I smile as I run through the progressions. Why can't all of the aftereffects be like this one? This one, I like. This aftereffect is actually a dream com true. After a half an hour of scales, I'm satisfied … my voice is ready.
I open my score of the opera, "Lakmé" to page 151; this is the piece I intend to sing at my audition. I recheck my alteration of the variant on page 156. Each note is perfectly legible. There can be no question as to my intention if one is a musician or can read sheet music. I smile wickedly.
"This should be fun!"
"Madame de Mornay! Madame? You're next!"
The assistant stage manager is a young Englishman of medium height and build with wavy blonde hair that falls just past his shoulders. His bold, but pale blue eyes are in sharp contrast to the ruddy complexion of his face. Even I, who has only floated about the periphery of the opera house, am aware of his flirtatious nature and his reputation as a ladies' man. He reminds me of someone I used to know, but I can't quite place him. I give him a small nod of acknowledgement.
"Thank you, Jeffrey. I will take my place in the east wings momentarily."
Holding the score firmly under my arm, I leave the sanctuary of Christine's dressing room and make my way to the stage. I await my call in the wings.
♪◦♫◦♪◦♥◦♪◦♫◦♪◦
"NEXT!"
I calmly walk onto the front of the stage, withdraw my sheet music and hand it to the musical director, Monsieur Jacques Gaile. After bringing my alteration to his stunned attention, I straighten and return to center stage. After flashing my sweetest smile at the men I know are there, but cannot see due to the brilliant footlights, I begin my introduction.
"Mademoiselle Christine Maire, Contralto, Mezzo-Soprano, Soprano. The piece I perform for you today is from your opera, "Lakmé," Act 2, Scene 5, "Through God's Inspiration, No. 10 Scene and Legend of the Pariah's Daughter" I begin immediately following the chorus line of "Ecoutons la légende, écoutons!" (1.) I choose to perform the variation, however, I have adapted the variation to demonstrate my vocal range. With your permission, please?"
Léo's voice booms from beyond the lights.
"By all means, Mademoiselle. You may proceed."
"Messieurs, my thanks for this opportunity to audition for you today. You may consider the stipulation of our contract fulfilled upon my completion of this aria."
I align my posture, take a cleansing breath in, release it, nod my head at M. Gaile to indicate my readiness, he raises his baton and mouths the words.
"On the down beat, Mam'selle."
Time seems to freeze, as if caught at the edge of a black hole's event horizon. My eyes remain fixed on M. Gaile's baton as he taps it against the top edge of his music stand. Now, there is complete silence, as he begins to draw the baton into the arc of his upbeat. Pausing only briefly as his eyes sweep across the pit, satisfied all eyes are on him, the baton falls and I begin.
"
Là-bas, dans la forêt plus sombre,
quel est ce voyageur perdu?
Autour de lui des yeux brillent dans l'ombre,
il marche encor au hasard, éperdu.
Les fauves rugissent de joie,
ils vont se jeter sur leur proie.
La jeune fille accourt et brave leurs fureurs,
elle a dans sa main la baguette
où tinte la clochette
des charmeurs!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!"
Drawing a deep breath, I sing the next two notes of A6 and B6 then my voice takes wing and soars into Léo's coloratura variation by singing the notes of C6, D6 and the highest note of E6. I maintain my eye focus on the auditorium rather than following my natural inclination of allowing my eyes to close. After all, the part requires acting as well as singing. I hold E6 for the briefest of moments, before beginning my dive. My voice plunges from E6, D6, C6, B6, A6, G5, F5, E5, D5, C5, B5, A5, G4, F4, E4. This is the note that ends the variant, but I continue on as my voice plummets ever lower D4, C4, B4, A4, G3, F3, E3, D3, C3, B3, A3, G2, F2, E2, D2, C2, B2, A2, G1, F1 and finally, E1, which I hold for one count. I am silent for the remaining three counts of the measure as well as the next three measures. After 15 counts, I ready my breath and after two additional counts I continue.
"L'étranger la regarde,
elle reste éblouie.
Il est plus beau que les Rajahs!
Il rougira, s'il sait qu'il doit la vie
à la fille des Pariahs.
Mais lui, l'endormant dans un rêve,
jusque dans le ciel il l'enlève,
en lui disant : ta place est là!
C'était Vichnou, fils de Brahma!
Depuis ce jour, au fond des bois,
le voyageur entend parfois
le bruit léger de la baguette
où tinte la clochette des charmeurs.
Où tinte la clochette des charmeurs.
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah!...
Ah!...
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah!...
Ah!...
Ah! Ah!
Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah!...
Ah!...
Ah!...
Ah!...
Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Ah!
Ah!" (2.)
I briefly hit E6 near the end of the aria before ending on B6, which I hold for six counts, fading on the final two. I wait patiently as the orchestra completes the final eleven measures before I slowly drop into a deep curtsey, allowing my face to fall into the front of my full skirt.
Silence fills the auditorium. I swear I cannot even hear movement coming from the orchestra pit, after an eternity of silence I raise my head. The first person I see is M. Gaile, nodding his approval and smiling broadly.
"Brava! Brava, Mam'selle. Bravisima!"
A streak of darkness catches my eye and I turn to see Erik leaping onto the stage. He runs to me.
"I had no idea …."
His expression confuses me. He appears embarrassed, but I cannot speak to him as Léo Delibes' voice booms out of the dark auditorium.
"Damn, woman! If I'd known you could sing like that I would have written it just that way. Where have you been?"
Other male voices speak effusive words of praise, but I only have eyes for my Erik.
"So, did I do okay?"
"Surely, you jest, Madame de Mornay? You have left me quite speechless. Why did you never tell me that your range is six octaves?"
I smile shyly at my husband.
"Well, dearest, you never asked."
French to English Translations
(1.)
(2.)
"Where goes the maiden straying,
child of the pariah band?
When the moonlight is playing
amid the forests grand.
When the moonlight is playing
amid the forests grand.
Tripping light o'er the mosses,
never remembers she
that a hate over crosses
the Pariah's progeny.
Tripping light o'er the mosses,
the Maiden wanders free.
Through the pink oleanders
with her sweet thoughts she wanders. Ah!
She moves on with steps light, and laughs out at the
night, at the night.
Down there, where shades more deep are glooming,
what traveler's that, alone astray?
Around him flame bright eyes, dark depths illuming,
but on he journeys, as by chance, on the way!
The wolves in their wild joy are howling,
as if for their prey they were prowling;
the young girl forward runs,
and doth their fury dare.
A ring in her grasp she holds tightly,
whence tinkles a bell, sharply, lightly,
a bell that tinkles lightly,
that charmers wear.
Ah! (And so on…)
While the stranger regards her
stands she dazed, flush'd and glowing.
More hand-some than the Rajas, he!
Yet with a blush, he'll learn his life he's owing
to the Pariah's fair progeny,
but he, in a dream her enfolding,
'till to heaven she soars in his holding,
to her he says, "Your mead is won."
It was Vishnu, the great Brahma's son!
And since the day in that dark wood,
the trav'ler hears, where Vishnu stood,
the sound of a lit-tle bell ring-ing,
the legend back to him bringing,
a small bell ring-ing
like those charmers wear.
Ah! (And so on…)"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, that was difficult and at the same time fun. I went on eBay and found both the score and a libretto of "Lakmé." Both were published in 1883! The libretto is written entirely in French and the score is in English. The part of this chapter that I like the best is that Christine alteration of the score...well, I created that! And, the absolute best thing is I believe it would work - as long as you have someone with a range of six octaves to sing it for you!
Here's a bit of trivia...the Guiness World Book of Records state that a young woman from Brazil holds the record for having the widest vocal range. Her name is Georgia Brown and she has a vocal range of 8 (!) octaves!