Monsieur Lefevre was approaching, talking as if we were not in the middle of something rather important. He was leading two strangers right onto the stage, clearly intent on completely disturbing the performance. Ubaldo stopped singing and sent an irritated glare at him.
Monsieur Reyer, the conductor, was terribly upset by the interruption, but I could hardly blame him. He was a strict man and took his job, and everyone else's, very seriously. Could Monsieur Lefevre not spare poor Monsieur Reyer's nerves by waiting until the song had been finished? Perhaps the two gentlemen he was leading were in a hurry.
"Monsieur Lefevre, I am rehearsing!" Reyer said, clearly agitated.
"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlemen, uh, please," said Monsieur Lefevre, acting a bit on the nervous side. "If I could have your attention, thank you. As you know, for some weeks, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these are all true. And, uh, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire - Monsieur Richard Firman and Monsieur Gilles André." Here Monsieur Lefevre paused, while the cast and some of the crew greeted the new owners with a round of applause.
"I'm sure you've read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business," he continued.
"Scrap metal… actually," the one named André corrected him.
"And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny," said Monsieur Firmin.
At this, a handsome young man hurried his way across the stage. His face was a face that was sure to have all the girls talking. Even me, I concluded. I glanced around for Christine and Meg. I didn't want to have attention drawn to me, as I was standing fairly close to the new owners, but I ducked my head and quickly made my way over to where Meg and Christine were standing.
As I approached them, I could tell Christine was smitten with our new patron. The dreamy far-away look in her eyes made sense when I caught her saying to Meg, "I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts. He called me Little Lotte."
"Christine," said Meg, "he's so handsome!"
"I had come to lay claim to the new patron, but I guess I am several years too late," I teased Christine with a nudge. She flashed me a smile, but quickly returned to watching the vicomte, as did I.
"My parents and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world-renowned Opera Populaire," announced Vicomte de Chagny.
La Carlotta sauntered over to stand in front of the vicomte and the new owners, and Monsieur Lefevre introduced the diva. "Vicomte, gentlemen: Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons."
"Brava! Brava!" called Carlotta's entourage as she, wearing a huge falsely charming smile, held her hand out to the Vicomte.
A high pitched cough caught everyone's attention next.
"Signor Ubaldo Piangi!" Lefevre gave a brief introduction.
"An honor, Signor," said the Vicomte. "I believe I'm keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your great triumph." Turning his attention to Monsieur Reyer he said, "My apologies, Monsieur."
"Thank you, Monsieur le Vicomte!" Monsieur Reyer called to him. To Piangi he said, "Once more, if you please, signor!"
I shook my head at the diva across the stage who was saying, "He love me! Love me, love me."
I gave a small involuntary gasp as the Vicomte walked right past me, Meg, and Christine. I looked at Christine and though she still wore a smile I saw the disappointment in her eyes.
"He wouldn't recognize me," she said, looking at Meg.
"He didn't see you," Meg told her.
We were interrupted by Madame Giry calling, "If you please!" Although she was speaking to our new managers, it was the cue for Meg and Christine to go onstage.
I watched them from the side stage. I tried not to be envious of the way they moved with such grace, reminding myself that someday I could dance like that. If I stayed here and continued to train. I also reminded myself that I was not in any hurry to wear costumes as skimpy as the ones they were wearing. I did not like too much skin to be revealed. For more than one reason; a point driven home by the reaction that I noticed occurring with Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André as they walked with Madame Giry across the stage. They had a glint in their eyes which made me uncomfortable and were pointing out some of the ballerinas. And I was certain one of them pointed at Christine. Briefly, Monsieur Lefevre's command to find an abonné flitted through my mind. It did not have time to settle there because it was time for me to rejoin the cast onstage.
During our dance one of the men stepped on La Carlotta's dress and she yelled at him, looking irritated. I was glad that I had not been the one to receive that look.
We finished our song and I went to the only place I felt comfortable, by Christine's and Meg's sides. They were still breathing heavily from their exhausting routine and I myself was a bit out of breath from the singing.
"That," I exclaimed, "was amazing!"
The girls grinned at me. Christine opened her mouth to say something, but whatever it was died on her tongue as we heard Carlotta's loud voice carried across the stage.
"Because I will not be singing!" Carlotta turned on her heel, calling after her loyal subjects. I looked to Madame Giry, but she flicked her eyes heavenward in a mild expression of irritation as she watched the diva leaving.
Our new managers set off after Carlotta, spewing flattering names, while Carlotta continued to threaten that she was leaving. Finally the men got her attention and she stop and spun around to face them.
"Monsieur Reyer…" began André, "isn't there a rather marvelous aria for Elyssa in Act Three of Hannibal?"
Poor Monsieur Reyer was spluttering in protest, but André continued, "Perhaps the signora-"
"Yes, yes, yes. Ma no!" Carlotta interrupted. "Because I have not my costume for Act Three, because somebody not finish it! And," she added for good measure, "I 'ate my 'at!"
"But I wonder, Signora," Firmin pleaded, although he tried to make it sound as though he wasn't, "as a personal favor, if you would oblige us with a private rendition?"
The girls around me were caught up in a conversation, but I couldn't tear my attention away from the dilemma with the diva. Would she really leave, I wondered. The insufferable woman was giving them quite a show, complete with a crying jag that was utterly fake.
Quickly Firmin added, "Unless, of course, Monsieur Reyer objects."
Reyer spluttered some more, seemingly so baffled that he could not form a coherent sentence. He stopped his noise, however, when Carlotta cried out something in Italian. Everyone went silent. Carlotta smiled at her managers then, and at least pretended to think about her decision.
"Ifah my managers command," she said sweetly. As sweet as Carlotta could get. The managers chuckled causing Carlotta to turn to Reyer. "Monsieur Reyer?"
"If my diva commands," he said in a fairly mocking tone of voice.
"Yes! I do!"
I relaxed a little, understanding that she would sing for them, they would praise her, and she would stay.
She took her place on the stage, telling everyone to be quiet, even commanding André and Lefevre to be silent as well.
Carlotta began to sing her song; a song I thought was rather pretty, had La Carlotta not been the one singing it.
I tried to enjoy it for the music's sake, but aside from Carlotta singing it, something felt wrong. I frowned, unable to find an explanation for it. It was akin to the feeling I got whenever Benoit caught me humming. It was not a good feeling. Worriedly, I looked out to the auditorium afraid I would see him sitting there, waiting to collect me after Carlotta's song. The only people I saw were the women cleaning the auditorium pausing to stuff cotton in their ears. If I hadn't felt so ill at ease I might have laughed. Next I looked at our new managers and caught Monsieur Firmin checking his pocket watch.
I shook my head at myself. I was being ridiculous, Benoit wasn't here. I was safe here.
Then Meg screamed.
I heard a strange sound from up above and, looking up, saw a backdrop coming toward me and my friends. We three girls jumped back as the falling backdrop landed, barely missing us.
The deviant back-drop did not miss Carlotta. It landed on her huge skirt, pushing her forward, face-first into the stage. There was a sudden flurry of activity as everyone rushed to help her. She cried out in what sounded more like anger than pain, slapping the stage with her palms.
Monsieur Lefevre called up an inquiry to the catwalks above, summoning Monsieur Buquet, the chief stagehand.
"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera," Meg said, as she and Christine clung to one another.
Madame Giry pushed past us, but instead of going to help with the backdrop she went backstage. I thought that was quite odd.
Turning my attention to Meg I said, "You can't be serious, Meg." I shot her a doubtful look.
"Sh! He'll hear you!"
I was about to tell her to stop being foolish and that there were no such thing as ghosts, but the panic I saw in her eyes… A fear that was not easily set aside by a few reprimanding words. Her reaction almost had me believing her. That worried me far more than the ghost.
Monsieur Buquet finally called down, asking forgiveness as he wasn't at his post and to say there was no one else up there.
"Or if there is," his tone turning mocking, "well, then, it must be a ghost!"
The cast gasped at this statement and I looked about at them in wonder. They all believed in the ghost story? I merely shook my head. I did not believe in ghosts. Ridicule.
"Signora," André said, attempting to smooth out the situation, "these things do happen."
Carlotta appeared disbelieving. "For the past three years these things do 'appen. And did you stop them from happening? NO! And you two! You are as bad as him! 'These things do 'appen,'" she mimicked, immediately followed by a frustrated growl. "No! Until you stop these things from 'appening, this thing-" she pointed to herself "-does not 'appen!"
Yelling at people once again she marched off.
As she walked away, I saw my future following after her. If La Carlotta did not sing there would be no gala; if there was no gala, then there would be no sponsors to help me, and with no sponsor…
My heart began beating faster as I pictured myself on the Paris streets, begging for food or money. Or worse; running back to Benoit.
Monsieur Lefevre looked to Firmin and André and said, "Gentlemen, good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Australia."
Monsieur Reyer made a devastated sound and I thought that he might swoon.
The girls with me were having a conversation, but I had tuned them out. I took a few steps closer to our managers to hear them better over my racing heartbeat, praying that they had a solution to all of this. Unfortunately, they were just as flummoxed as I.
"Signora Giudicelli, she will be coming back, won't she?" André stammered.
"You think so, Monsieur?" Madame Giry said from behind me. I turned to see her holding a letter in her hands and wearing a rather smug look on her face. "I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost."
"Oh, God in heaven, you're all obsessed!" Firmin said, rolling his eyes. I agreed with him, but wondered where the letter had truly come from.
"He welcomes you to his opera house-" Madame Giry tried to continue, but Firmin interrupted.
"His opera house!" he exclaimed.
"And commands that you continue to leave box five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due."
"His salary?" Firmin sounded incredulous.
She made an affirming little sound. "Monsieur Lefevre used to give him twenty-thousand francs a month."
"Twenty-thousand francs?!"
"Perhaps you can afford more? With the vicomte as your patron," she replied, slowly backing away. Despite my fears, I found myself hiding a smile at Madame Giry's cheeky response.
"Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the vicomte was to join us for the gala, but obviously we shall now have to cancel as it appears we have lost our star!"
Murmuring erupted around me, increasing my own nervousness. I started playing with the red fabric of my skirt, attempting to suppress the panic attack I felt rising inside me, even as Firmin seemed to be having a panic attack of his own.
Through the cloud of distress, Madame Giry's bold voice remained calm. "Christine Daaé could sing it, sir."
I looked at Madame Giry with raised had mentioned to me once how she loved to sing, but I had never heard her sing before. I felt, briefly, a thread of jealousy that Madame Giry would choose Christine over me to sing, but then, I was still in need of some teaching. Oh, if only an opera house voice instructor existed as Madame Giry had said.
"What, a chorus girl? Don't be silly," Monsieur André chided Madame Giry.
"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher," she said.
"Who?" André asked Christine.
"I don't know his name, Monsieur," Christine replied somewhat apologetically.
Surprised, I stared wide-eyed at Christine. How could she not know her teacher's name? It seemed absurd. But then I thought of how Madame Giry had never told me the name of whom I was to audition for. Perhaps, she had done the same thing to Christine; let her practice with the man, but withholding his name. But there had been no one in the auditorium when I auditioned. And for what purpose would she need to withhold the teacher's name from Christine? Something very suspicious was going on here and I wondered at what game Madame Giry was playing. First, a mysterious letter from the "Opera Ghost" and now a teacher with no name.
"Let her sing for you, Monsieur," Madame Giry insisted, placing a hand on Christine's shoulder. "She has been well taught."
A look passed between André and Firmin, but Monsieur André seemed to make a decision all on his own.
"All right, come on," André said, waving Christine forward. "Don't be shy."
I glanced over at Meg, catching her eye. The confused expression she wore told me that she knew only as much as I did. I made my way over to Meg's side as Christine slowly stepped away from Madame Giry, bowing her head nervously.
"Come on, come on." André waved her forward impatiently.
Monsieur Reyer returned to his conductor's post and called out to Christine, "From the beginning of the aria then, please, mademoiselle."
The music began just as beautiful as it had been for Carlotta. Then Christine opened her mouth to sing... and out came the voice of an angel. A voice so astonishingly beautiful, that within seconds of hearing it, I raised a hand to my mouth to stifle a sob. I felt the tears trailing down my cheeks; just crying at the beauty of Christine's voice. I lowered my hands to my chest, clutching them tightly together and closed my eyes, simply taking in the song.
I felt the movement next to me, just before a hand touched my back. I flinched although the touch was gentle. Meg's voice whispered in my ear, "Are you alright?"
Sighing deeply, I said, "It's so beautiful." Opening my eyes, I saw Meg smile. I smiled back at her and we silently turned our attention to the budding diva who had taken center stage. We listened as the perfect acoustics of the auditorium carried the angelic voice up to the very pinnacle of the theatre, but I imagined a hundred angels flying heavenward, each carrying a note of Christine's song.