September 17th 1892: Erik
It took all my will-power not to jump up from my seat at once. The diva's voice had made me alert. What on earth did she want to do with me? Yet upon closer examination I realised she hadn't referred to me at all. Her eyes were fixed on… Philippe. My hand closed around his protectively. This was even worse. I was used to that kind of things, but my boy… Yet I was prepared to defend him, no matter what she'd decide to do. No one would hurt him.
A moment passed in silence, then the impossible happened: Signora Marchesi's face was lit up by a smile. Suddenly she looked friendly. The really astonishing thing was that it wasn't the false friendliness I had seen her display towards her admirers, but a sincere friendliness. She seemed to be truly pleased that he was here.
"Good day, little Philippe Charles," she greeted him, her voice as light and melodic as a bell. "How good it is to meet you again! At first I wasn't sure whether it was really you. It's hard to look into the auditorium with all those lights on stage…" So that was why her eyes had narrowed. She had simply tried to see better. "Wait a moment!" she then went on. "I have something for you." With these words she left the stage, the pianist staring after her in bewilderment.
Christine and I looked at each other.
"Since when is she so friendly?" she asked.
"I have no idea," I replied honestly. "I've never seen her like that. It's very strange…" Yet no matter how strange it was, I couldn't help thinking that I rather enjoyed it, for it meant that Christine was talking to me properly again. I gave her a tentative smile, but she didn't return it. Apparently things weren't completely all right between us yet.
Signora Marchesi returned just one or two minutes later. She was no longer on stage, but entered the auditorium through a side entrance. In her hands she held a big, flat white box.
"Here," she said, giving it to the surprised Philippe. "I've bought those especially for you. I bambini amano i dolci, vero?" She glanced at the boy a little nervously, yet the expected approval didn't come, for naturally he hadn't understood her last words.
"She wants to know whether you like sweets," I told him in a low voice.
"Of course I like sweets," he said. "Thank you very much, Signora Marchesi." He stood up from his seat for a moment, made a polite little bow and sat down again. The singer looked delighted.
"Oh, I'm so glad you like them!" she exclaimed. "Now everything is all right between us, isn't it?" Philippe nodded, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
It was only then that she seemed to notice Christine and me.
"I hope you don't mind me giving the child sweets," she muttered, looking worried again. "Perhaps I should have asked you first."
"It's all right," Christine assured her. "As long as he doesn't eat all of them at once and also gives some to his sister…"
"What about you?" the singer addressed me cautiously. "Will you stop… tormenting me now?"
Given the fact that I hadn't done anything since the first night of the new opera, the question was a little pointless. Still I seized the chance to make sure she'd remain friendly for more than the next two minutes.
"That depends on your behaviour," I replied. "If I hear one word about you treating others in a disrespectful way, you'll get to know a very unpleasant side of me."
Her eyes widened. The question ´Even more unpleasant?´ was almost visible on her face.
"Never," she promised. "From now on, I'll be as good a singer as they come. May I go and start practicing now?"
I nodded generously.
While the diva made her way back onto the stage, I took a closer look at the sweets Philippe had received. Judging by the words on the box, they came directly from Italy. This did not underline my suspicion that she had simply given him sweets she had got from an admirer, possibly because she didn't like them. Even a wealthy patron would have probably bought her French sweets. No, it seemed that she had indeed bought them for Philippe.
"Can I open the box now?" my boy asked, looking from Christine to me and back. It was clear that he wasn't sure whom to address at the moment, his mother or his teacher. I nodded encouragingly. In my opinion there was nothing wrong with trying the sweets right away. One had to enjoy good things. Who knew how long one would have them?
"But don't eat too many, or you'll feel sick," Christine warned him.
Smiling, Philippe opened the box. It contained various kinds of chocolates. They looked so delicious that I couldn't reject the offer when the boy handed me the box. I chose a small, round chocolate and took a bite. It was filled with a white creamy substance that tasted of vanilla. Before I knew what I was doing, a second and third chocolate had vanished in my mouth. Christine threw me a sideways glance, but didn't say anything or take a chocolate herself.
I soon realised that Signora Marchesi's singing was more endurable if one could eat sweets while listening to her. Or had I become more tolerant towards her because she had been friendly to Philippe? I had to admit that I still couldn't understand her behaviour completely. I hadn't even seen her since the first night. But then, it was possible that she had waited for a chance to make up for her treatment of Philippe all the time and simply hand't had the chance to do so until today.
Or else… I nearly choked and stopped eating chocolates at once. Could it be that she had a guilty conscience, not because she had pushed my boy aside on the stairs, but because of something entirely different? Sending dead birds and intestines to the de Changys' door, perhaps? That would explain her sudden change of mind. Yet at the end of thw day, it would cause more questions than it answered. The diva knew that I was the person responsible for all the things that had happened to her, and not the boy. So if she wanted to take revenge on me, why should she choose to de Chagnys as her target?
I wasn't an easy target, of course. Only few people remembered the way down to my house these days, and no one would have been stupid enough to go there, to face me in person. It would be far less difficult to attack someone close to me, like my little heir or the woman I loved.
But then, I couldn't really imagine Signora Marchesi doing such things or even ordering somebody else to do them. I had observed her closely during her first weeks at the opera and had found out a lot about her character. Like many other divas, she was vain and hated to be criticised. Yet I had never seen her being mean on purpose. If she hurt others, whether physically or emotionally, it happened because she didn't think about them too much. The attacks, however, had been planned by a person who had thought carefully about how to hurt us most.
Yet it was also possible that I hadn't understood that woman's character at all. Maybe she had only tricked me into believing her harmless. Or maybe she hadn't. I suppressed a sigh. It was all so very complicated. Why couldn't things be easy for a change? The relationship of Christine and me had improved so wonderfully. Why couldn't the rest of our lives adapt to that?
Suddenly felt something nudge me gently. It turned out to be Christine's elbow.
"Erik, stop!" she whispered. "Signora Marchesi had already forgotten her lyrics three times because you're staring at her like that. It was amusing at the beginning, but slowly even I start pitying her."
It was only when my beloved said so that I noticed my eyes had been fixed on the woman all the time, while a grim expression had been on my face. Quickly I glanced into the other direction, at Christine. She avoided my gaze.
"Why are you angry at me?" I wanted to know, deciding that being open about it was the best method.
"I can't tell you now," she gave back in a whisper, nodding her head into Philippe's direction. "Will we have the chance to talk alone later?"
"Certainly," I replied. I'd make sure that we'd have all the time we'd need for talking… before tonight. I wouldn't let anything ruin our first night together, no matter how it would turn out to be. I wanted to get rid of our problems, so that they wouldn't disturb us later. A husband and wife had to be able to talk about everything. Seizing her hand, I held it in mine firmly. It was like a promise.
Author's note: "I bambini amano i dolci, vero?" means "Children like sweets, don't they?". Just in case you're interested...