13

Christmas neared, and Katrina was beside herself with delight over the décor going up and the lifting of moods. Her greatest joy was to be sent out for ribbons or to mail letters and see all the festive wonders around the city.

Marie and Helen's mother arrived on a day she was out, about three weeks before Christmas. She took one look at the opera house and decided it was a death trap, full of mould and drafts.

"Mark my words, children," she said, waving a bony finger at no one in particular, "If you stay here longer than another year, you shall die of a cold gone nasty, or of some dreadful plague. You did say they employ a rat-catcher, Marie, you did say that once. Where rats live, so does illness, mark me on that." She nodded and tapped her cane on the carpet, as if that proved her point.

At that moment, a voice, now familiar to the sisters, came closer, singing Ces't Noël at top volume. It ran quite high, and then plunged into a far lower range in what obviously was meant to be a woman and man's split voicing. The song changed a moment later to Pat a Pan, with crisp, clear rhythms so that one could almost hear a drum behind the sound. Madame D'Arcy was enchanted, and looked with watery grey eyes towards the door.

"Is that one of the protégés? What an angelic voice!"

"No, Mama; that is my maid. See, here she is now. Katrina, come meet out Mother." Marie motioned the girl to come in as the music stopped.

The child walked forward, curtsied, and asked how the lady did. The old dame was enchanted, and smiled with her thin lips at the girl.

"At least someone has brought her up properly, a prettier curtsy I've never seen! Set down that basket and come closer dear." Katrina complied, walking right up to the woman's knee and looking her full in the face. "My, my, why didn't you write and say you had such a charming maid, Marie?" Madame said, taking the little warm hands in her wrinkled cold ones.

Helen started laughing. "She was afraid you'd whisk her away and we'd never see her again. How could Ria loose a perfectly good maid to you like that, Mama?"

"Scholarships to a fine school is not taking girls away entirely, Helen. Now hold that tongue of yours, if you can." Turning back to the child, the woman studied her face closely. "It seems I've seen a face like this once before, long ago in a small village. The hair is unmistakable."

"My Uncle says I look like my Mama." Katrina offered; fascinated by the way the old lady's extra chin flapped. She wondered if it was soft to play with, but decided against asking.

Marie, sensing an interrogation, asked Katrina to fetch her red dress from the first act of the opera to check the seams. As the girl scurried away, the soprano sat across from her matriarch and folded her hands. "Now, you may ask us all the questions you like, Mama. Katrina is a bright child, and I won't have her embarrassed by your overt interest."

Snorting, Madame D'Arcy observed, "Well, singing has turned you into something as hard as nails, I see."

"She's right, Mama," Helen said, "Katrina shouldn't have to go through endless questions."

"Oh, very well. Who are her parents, or do you know?"

"We don't," Marie answered, "And they are dead, at any rate."

"An orphan, then?"

"Not, entirely, she lives with an uncle here in Paris."

"And what is he like?"

Marie turned to Helen, who shrugged noncommittally. "He has nothing but the girl at heart. Not a person to deal with, but there is nothing to complain of in the care he gives Katrina."

"Does she attend any school? Or has her learning been neglected?"

"Her uncle teaches her, I believe," Marie ventured, looking to Helen for support. The younger nodded slipping in that she had seen many school materials on her visit to their home. None traditional, but then, Katrina wasn't traditional either.

The old woman snorted. "So she is not a complete fool or uneducated brat then. She really is a pretty child, it's a pity she'll live her days out as a maid.'

"My maid," Marie said warningly.

Katrina popped back in then, beaming up at them, Tomino at her heels. "The men have just brought in the tree! You should see it, it's a thousand feet high, and Jacques promised I should help if Uncle said I could."

Taking the red dress out of the little hands and setting where a wayward pup couldn't chew it, Helen asked, "And how do you propose to climb a thousand feet to trim it?"

"Oh, there's a ceiling above, I shall simply drop down to the tree." Katrina said, as if that were answer enough. "Uncle is writing a Christmas song for me to sing. Perhaps I can sing it for you all,"

Helen tried to be a serious as the child beside her. "That is a generous offer. Does he always write for you?"

Katrina glanced back at the door and lowered her voice, "Yes, now that Christine's gone. If she were here, he'd write for both of us."

Madame D'Arcy was thoroughly puzzled by the words and behavior, but decided a small child had the right to be erratic over Christmas time.

The ensuing performances were completed over the next few nights, and any employees who had travels packed and left. Katrina helped trim the giant tree, dropping from a trapdoor in the ceiling as she had promised.

The Daroga stalked the halls, and she found herself always on guard. He was quite preoccupied with the ghost, and rarely noted the little girl with large brown eyes watching him. She spoke mostly to the all enduring Darius when he came along, and avoided using hidden doors in hallways where they walked. She wondered if they had any place to go for Christmas.

It was then that the singular stubbornness of Madame D'Arcy showed itself.

Marie had warned her about the area on the Rue Scribe side of the opera and its tendency to freeze with black ice no one could see. She begged her mother to always take one of the sister along when she went out so that there would be less danger for her aged bones.

Deciding that the arrogant daughter turned lauded soprano wanted to keep her prisoner in the drafty old building, Madame walked out alone one night while the girls had gone to fetch some goods from the city. She bundled well, gripped her cane tightly and marched slowly along.

When she came to the aforementioned side, her pride was her undoing. She had come this far without trouble, and fully assured nothing could happen, took another bold step.

The ice was black, and unseen, and she slid to the ground and clunked her old head firmly on the pavement. As the light dimmed, she saw a tall, emaciated man in evening dress bend over her.