Chapter 5: Let the Dream Begin
Christine's body soared to life as he commanded her to sing, and without hesitation, she did so. She did not even know the melody that passed her lips as she sang to him.
Sang for him.
Her body was frozen in its spot, and she could feel the relentless pounding of her heart in her chest. Her stomach tightened as her voice left her in full force. Her clammy hands raised from her sides and grasped at her throat as the music left her, echoing off the walls into silence.
Christine searched for her words, left speechless by the entrancement. "So it's you. You're him. My Angel of Music".
There was a pause before the angel spoke. "I am, dear child. I have been waiting for you".
The words crossed her lips faster than she could think them. "So my father did not send you?" She spoke sadly, her gaze downcasted to the floor.
"No, child. You sent for me the moment you crossed the threshold into the realm of music. Your father is certainly smiling down from you in Heaven. I am most sure of it".
She released a breath she didn't realize she was holding. A smile crossed her face and she lifted her head proudly. "So you will guide me on my path to music?"
"I shall teach you all that lies within the realm of music. We will start with lessons to strengthen your vocal cords. You will come here every morning before dawn, dressed and ready. I will not accept tardiness. Do we have a mutual understanding?" His voice was a rich sound, the words flowing from him smoothly with a hint of strictness in his tone.
Christine nodded quickly. "Yes. Although, I do not have anyone to wake me up so early, and I fear I would disturb Meg if I did so-"
"I will wake you up, my dear. You need only listen to my voice".
"Oh" was all Christine could manage to reply with.
It was only then that Christine was fully aware of her surroundings. The chapel was pitch black, save for the moonlight that flooded in through the windows. Moving over to the stained glass window, Christine stared at the angel.
"Are you actually an angel?"
"I believe that would contradict the term 'angel of music' now wouldn't you think?" He replied coolly.
Christine laughed softly. "My father told me that my mother was his angel of music. I believe anyone could be an angel of music as long as they carry a passion for music".
"Do you wish I was real?" The angel asked.
"Of course I do". She swore she could hear a sharp intake of breath. "Why wouldn't I want to meet my angel of music?"
Christine turned back to look at the picture of her father that rested in the far right slot of the candle stand. "I grew up with my father in Calais, and our house was always filled with music. Then my mother passed, and it took a while for the music to come back. My father taught me as much as he was able. But now that he is gone, the only music I have left of him is his violin", she reflected somberly. Her finger traced over his face and a tear slipped down her cheek.
"So you see, angel. I would do anything to be in a room with him one last time. But I know that for as long as I continue to sing, my father will always be beside me".
"My dear, your father will be with you always, no matter the path you choose to take".
Christine choked out a silent sob. "Thank you, angel". She formed a list of seemingly endless questions in her head but didn't want to bombard him, so she settled with a select few. "Do we begin today or tomorrow?"
His response was quick. "I do sincerely apologize for waking you. It is just past the first hour of the morning, so I will not have you practice today. We will begin tomorrow".
She nodded before shooting out another question. "Do you have a name? Or even possibly a surname? Surely all angels have a name…" she drifted off in thought, but she was quickly brought back with his reply.
"Perhaps next time I shall tell you. Another detail I would like to mention, my dear. These sessions will be kept private. These are for you and you alone. Your angel values his privacy as much as you do. If anyone is to see, hear or question you, you are simply to reply that you have a private lesson with a tutor".
Christine nodded in understanding. Overcome with fatigue, she yawned and slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it.
Her angel chuckled. "It seems, my dear, it is time for you to return to your peaceful slumber".
Christine shook her head insistently. "Is there nothing we can start now? How will I know that this wasn't simply just a dream?"
She felt as if climbing out of bed and following the sound of his voice was simply just a dream. It felt as if she had been in a trance, so how on earth could she possibly know that she wasn't simply living out a figment of a dream she had only imagined would come true for so long? She would be thoroughly disappointed if it truly turned out for that to be the case.
"This is no dream. Come now, it is time for you to rest", he urged gently.
Christine felt her body begin to lead her out of the chapel, her body unresponsive to her mind's insistence to stop. She gripped the door frame of the chapel. "Angel?"
"Yes?"
Christine stared at the painted angel in the center of the chapel wall. "Thank you".
She could feel the smile on his face as he said "Goodnight, my dear".
Satisfied, Christine allowed her body to lead her back to the dormitories and into the soft sheets of her bed.
And when Christine awoke that morning, she found a red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem on the pillow beside her head.
Christine could not keep her focus. She seemed to have left her mind in the chapel in the first hour of the morning.
It was almost impossible to believe that she had finally met her angel of music. Even as she awoke that same morning, she had convinced herself that it was all but a dream.
But upon seeing the red rose with the black silk tie on the stem laying beside her, she knew it was all real.
When Meg awoke several minutes after her, she had seen the rose and Christine asked her if she could put it in a vase to prevent it from wilting so soon. To her delight, Meg procured a small vase from another room and Christine put it in with some water, taking the ribbon off the stem so as not to drown it. She tucked the ribbon into an empty scrapbook and hid it away.
In the meantime, Meg had gone down to the kitchen and brought up breakfast for the both of them and Meg threw all kinds of questions at her.
"That's a beautiful rose, who gave it to you?"
Christine shrugged. "I don't know, I didn't catch his name".
Meg had a dreamy look on her face and she sighed dramatically. "Whoever he was, he must be an absolute angel for thinking of you".
Christine laughed at the comment. "You have no idea".
The day dragged on slowly for Christine, whose body shook in anticipation throughout the day. Madame Giry had not been pleased to see her posture quiver in her ronds de jambe and had her repeat it multiple times until she felt it to be satisfactory.
The corps de ballet rehearsed until their feet wobbled in their shoes, followed up by costume fittings.
The costumes she saw on the rack around stunned her, but when the seamstress brought over hers, she was taken aback by the excessive details.
The corset made up the bodice, which came up to the neck with capped sleeves and was trimmed in gold and white fabric, speckled with colorful flowers. The skirt flowed out to the side in a sea of tulle with blue and gold splotches and touches of magenta. A tassel hung from a sash in the front with the colors bending together in areas.
Christine was told to try it on, and so she excitedly snatched it up off the table and walked behind the privacy curtain. Upon walking out, the seamstress immediately reached towards her and pulled tightly on the laces in back so tightly Christine's breath flew from her lips. She grasped the table in front of her as she continued to tighten it, a squeak leaving her lips.
"It's very tight, Madame, I cannot breathe. Is there any way we could loosen it?". Christine gasped out to the woman, who simply shook her head.
God, she could already feel the trim of the corset digging into her skin, which would surely leave harsh red lines along her skin when she would take it off.
"It is supposed to be like that. Wear it to rehearsals and it should feel a bit better by the end of the day". The seamstress walked away, leaving Christine to fit another ballet girl.
Christine couldn't breathe in this.
Even after rehearsals ended for the day, Christine returned to the stage to practice in an attempt to loosen it up, and Meg and Élodie joined her.
They started with the ronds de jambe that Madame Giry had corrected her on earlier and she eyed the both of them, who seemed to have no struggles with their costumes.
"Aren't your corsets too tight?"
They both shook their heads. "I've been doing this for years, so it doesn't really feel any different from my rehearsal leotard, '' Élodie chirped out from her pirouette.
Meg, on the other hand, stood over at the bar practicing her brisé. Her left leg crossed with her right and lifted forward, to the side, to the back, and down. She spoke from the far right of the stage. "I have to agree with Élodie. I don't feel any more different from mine either. Did you tell the seamstress?"
Christine paused in her step, turning in Meg's direction. "I did, but she simply told me it was supposed to be that way, and then she just walked away! I understand that she's busy, but I can't perform in something this tight. It's been hours of practicing and it hasn't begun to feel any better than before!" She squeezed out, placing a hand over her midsection.
Élodie frowned. "Does it just need the strings loosened on them?"
Christine shook her head tiredly. "The strings just barely tie at the bottom with it this tight. It needs longer laces for me to adjust it to my size". She groaned loudly. "I feel like a balloon about to burst".
She bent forward, her hands touching the floor, feeling lightheaded. She needed to sit, just for a minute. Her mind swam and spots of darkness entered her vision.
"Christine?" Seeing her friend hunch forward, Meg began walking over.
"Angel-" Christine murmured as she collapsed on the stage, blacking out.
Christine shot up awake as a pungent odor wafted under her nose, and was greeted with three worried faces at both of her sides.
Meg, Élodie, and Madame Giry breathed sighs of relief.
"Christine, are you alright? You gave us quite a scare!" Élodie gave her a look of concern, patting her hand.
Meanwhile, Meg was retelling the events to her mother. "I'm telling you Maman, she couldn't breathe in her corset, and the seamstress refused to fix it for her and told her to just practice in it!" Meg told her exasperatedly, putting a hand on Christine's back, bringing her up to stand.
Christine had been changed out of the corset and into her robe. She also noticed that they were back in their room.
"How did I get up here?" She questioned, the obscenely tight corset nowhere to be seen in the room.
"Maman did. You should've seen everyone's faces when she brought you up here. Quite a display of strength she put on", Meg giggled. Christine looked up to Madame Giry, who had crossed her arms in front of her chest, her cane hanging out of one hand and the other tapping her fingers on her arm.
Madame Giry cleared her throat. "I have sent your costume back down to the seamstress, who should be making the necessary changes as we speak. The girls will bring up dinner for the three of you while you bathe. Then rest", the ballet mistress demanded.
"I will do that….Thank you, Madame Giry. I'm sorry, I feel that I've been such a burden since I've arrived". Christine looked away from the older woman's eyes, hoping that if it was true, she wouldn't see it in her eyes.
A look of horror crossed Élodie's face. "You are in no way a burden, Christine! You're just adjusting to life here. We've all been there, so don't worry about it".
Madame Giry nodded and took her leave, and the other girls followed in suit, closing the door behind them.
By the time Christine left the bathroom, Meg and Élodie were sitting on Meg's bed, plates in hand, chatting in a low voice.
Meg looked over to Christine. "There's been some news. I heard from another stagehand that the food poisoning Joseph Buquet developed is worse than originally thought. Doctors don't think he's going to make it". Meg's face paled.
Christine stiffened as she sat on her bed, dragging the plate into her lap. She prodded at the gravy on her plate. "Even though we only had one encounter with him, he seemed like a terrible man. I do not wish death upon anyone, even him. But it seems that he has a lot to pray and repent for. Perhaps God will grant him forgiveness".
She couldn't even begin to imagine how Meg was feeling. If Joseph Buquet died, she would surely blame herself. Meg was too kind of a person to have to suffer through that.
Changing the subject, Christine eyed the rose, which sat in a vase on the nightstand between them. "Meg asked me this morning who could've brought me this beautiful rose…"
Color flooded Meg's face as she gushed out ideas as to who it could've been. Christine sighed in relief as began sharing ideas with Élodie, who suggested other people.
"What did he look like? Was he tall? Handsome?" Élodie pried, getting a grin out of her, and Christine gave in.
"Mysterious, in fact, I can't even recall seeing his face. He was quick to come and go", she lied. They gazed at her in wonder. Christine piled her plate on top of Meg's.
While setting the plate aside, Meg commented, "Perhaps it was the phantom of the opera…" Meg stood up and crept towards Christine in a tiptoe, until she stood before her, "-coming to welcome you to his spooky theater!" Meg laughed, tackling and trying to tickle Christine, who laughed. Élodie joined in with her and they exploded into a mass of laughter.
Christine hoped many more moments like these were to come.
"Christine….Christine"
Christine awoke at the sound of her angel's voice, and she was out of bed and in the bathroom within seconds, changing into the blue dress she had worn just a few days prior. She wrangled half of her curly hair into a bun and put on her slipper, slipping out of the room quietly
As Christine descended the spiral staircase, the grandfather clock she passed read two minutes until five. Orange light was just beginning to pour in from the opera house windows and she walked down the chapel stairs.
His voice welcomed her as she made her entrance.
"Good morning, Christine".
A wide smile formed across her face. "So it wasn't a dream, mon ange", she replied cheerfully.
"Just as I told you yesterday morning", he acknowledged.
Christine could feel her cheeks flush in embarrassment. "Yes, well, sometimes when a dream comes true, it is hard to believe that it is".
"I couldn't agree more. Now let the dream begin and begin with scales. Start with your lower scales and work your way up from there. Should your throat feel dry at any point, there is tea on the windowsill".
Christine looked over, and sure enough, a kettle and a cup sat in front of the stained window. Her heart jumped in her chest at the realization of what that meant.
"So you are a man. A living, breathing man. Why do you hide from me, angel?"
He sighed knowingly. "Yes, I am just as human as you are, my dear. As for why I hide, that is for your safety and mine".
Christine agreed. They lived within a society that would not hesitate to spread gossip and rumors of a single glance, leading to the downfall of a person and their career. If anyone were to see him with her, surely that would lead to the downfall of them both.
The thought was unsettling in itself, but she pushed it out of her mind and began her scales.
About halfway through, he stopped her. She gazed around the room with a puzzled expression. "Did I make a mistake?"
"My dear, when you sing, you need to stand completely upright. You need to support your diaphragm and breathe through your nose, not your mouth. Try again, starting from the beginning".
Christine followed his directions and stood up straight, placing a hand on her front and back, ensuring she wasn't leaning back without knowing it. She took a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled, letting it flow back out. She began her scales again.
This time, she was able to complete them all and he regarded her with praise.
"Well done. Drink some tea and return when you are ready".
Christine nodded and moved over to the window, picking up the kettle and pouring the tea into the cup halfway. It was invitingly warm in her hands and she lifted it to her lips, her tongue dancing on the mixed flavors of lemon, mint, and honey.
She sighed deeply in contentment as the liquid soothed her throat.
"I trust it is to your liking?"
"Very much, thank you. I will admit that you have good taste in mixtures. I never would have imagined they would flow so perfectly together". Christine polished off the drink and returned to the center of the room, facing the portrait of the angel.
"Prepared in front of you is sheet music. I would like you to sing it for me".
The bird you hoped to catch
Beat its wings and flew away.
Love stays away, you wait and wait,
When least expected, there it is!
She recognized this piece distantly from another opera. Carmen, she believed it was called. She looked over the parts that had been crossed out on the pages.
She pointed to the lines crossed out. "Do you not want me to sing these parts?".
"No. We will work on one section at a time. We will not work from the same opera every time. Simply put, they are rehearsal pieces. To rise to the top, you must start at the bottom".
"Ah, I see".
"Sing it again, this time add the emotion of the notes into your singing. It helps to sing when you have an idea of how the character feels", he suggested.
And so she sang it repeatedly until her throat dried out. She drank more of the tea in response, savoring the sweet taste.
She stood by the tea for several minutes before he spoke to her again. "Do you feel confident in continuing? You have made substantial progress, so we may end our lesson for the day if that is what you wish"
"I will continue. Practice makes perfect, doesn't it?"
"That it does. Repeat your scales and sing the sheet music again", he commanded, and Christine threw herself back into the music.
Christine lost track of time, her only indicator being the multicolor light that flooded in from the stained glass window. "Angel, what time is it?"
"Rehearsals begin in an hour".
Christine perked up at the reply, surprised that she had been practicing for three hours. Nevertheless, she finished off the rest of the tea and spoke, "Thank you, angel. I shall return tomorrow".
She placed the script over by the tea, assuming he would like to take it back with him.
"Keep it. I do not require it, but I would like for you to have materials to practice on your own time".
She nodded eagerly and made her way out of the chapel to rehearsal.
Walking back into the dormitories, Christine found Meg standing in front of the tall mirror that leaned against the wall at the end of her bed, ensuring her costume was fitting right.
"Good morning!" Christine spoke warmly.
Meg's reply was instant. "Good morning! Where were you this morning? I started to worry".
She recalled what her angel had told her yesterday, "I have private lessons with a tutor, it began this morning".
Meg squealed. "Christine! Is it for your voice? It doesn't surprise me that a tutor would want to train someone with a voice like yours! You have a beautifully amazing talent! I'm so happy for you!" She cheered.
Christine blushed. "Thank you, Meg!" She looked over to her bed, where her costume sat ready to be worn.
"Maman said the seamstress got quite the scolding from her. I'll help you try it on, so you can tell me if it still needs adjusting, alright?"
Christine nodded in agreement, grabbing the costume and changing in the bathroom. Coming out, she held the back of the corset together with two hands as Meg helped to lace her up.
Christine breathed deeply in relief as the costume fit snug enough for comfort. "It is much better. Thank you for helping me, Meg".
Meg waved it off. "Let's go get breakfast. I will absolutely starve if I do not eat until tonight", her stomach growled loudly and the two women shared a laugh.
A week came and went and Christine easily balanced her lessons and rehearsal. During the week, it was announced by Monsieur LeFevre that Joseph Buquet would not be returning for the near time future due to medical concerns. They inevitably wound up hiring a new stagehand who was optimistic and adept at his job.
Meg stopped worrying after the announcement was made, fortunate that he was still alive. Christine didn't bring up the subject again after that.
After over a week of rehearsing, the Prima Donna decided to make her appearance and begin rehearsing with the entire cast, much to everyone's disappointment. The woman barked orders left and right, and Monsieur Reyer, unfortunately, bore most of the brunt.
Carlotta screeched as she tripped over Élodie, who stood in formation behind her. The woman raised a finger next to her screaming "How dare you trip me in zis dress! Ballet rats like you don't have a place in zis opera house. Get out of my sight!"
Élodie backed up a few steps with her hands up in surrender. She glanced over to Madame Giry, who had her head in her hands.
Christine watched the woman insult her friend and she walked over in between them, her arms out to her sides defensively in front of Élodie. "How dare you treat her like that? We rehearse for a week without you and you have the decency to tell her that she's in the wrong? You are sadly mistaken Signora!" Christine huffed in frustration.
Carlotta recoiled at her words before hurling her hand towards her face. Christine swung her hand up defensively in front of her face and grasped her wrist tightly, halting her.
The entire staff gasped in shock, including the men working above in the wings and catwalk. She could feel everyone's eyes burn into her as she stood face to face with the prima donna.
"You little ingenuous soubrette-"
"Call me what you want, Signora, but I will not tolerate how you treat my family. This would not have happened if you bothered to practice with us", Christine spoke fiercely, her grip tightening on her wrist.
Carlotta sneered and raised the other hand, but a firm grip caught it. Madame Giry stood beside her, Carlotta's hand in one and releasing Christine's grip with the other. Christine looked up to the ballet mistress who shook her head in disagreement, but her eyes sparkled with pride.
Christine sharply released her grip and walked off the stage to the barre, and Meg and Élodie followed in tow behind her.
Élodie swept her into her arms and sobbed into Christine's shoulders. "I can't believe you did that for me". She gripped her tighter, and Christine wrapped her arms around her.
"She was in the wrong. You didn't deserve that".
Meg put a hand on Élodie's shoulder in support.
Élodie trembled, pulling back to look at them. "You don't think they shall send me home for this?"
"You didn't do a single thing wrong! Maman would never allow that!" Meg said fiercely.
Christine shared a knowing glance with Meg. "Do you want to stay in our room tonight?"
Élodie nodded, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand.
Rehearsals continued for the remainder of the day, sans Carlotta.
Madame Giry called Christine to her office shortly before the candles were to be blown out for the night, and she sat down in an armchair on the other side of her desk.
Hands clasped in her lap, they sat in silence for several minutes before the older woman spoke. "I am very proud of you. Monsieur LeFevre, on the other hand, is quite disappointed. It seems he received quite an earful from Carlotta shortly after the altercation".
Christine shifted nervously in her seat. "Will I be asked to leave the opera? For an act of self-defense and standing up for my friend?"
"We are days away from the first showing of Le roi de Lahore. He would dare not to do so. I am simply warning you to tread carefully. Should we lose our prima donna before we are to premiere, we shall have to cancel and refund full houses. Monsieur LeFevre has little patience as it is. Now rest, child". Madame Giry shooed her from the office.
The weight that had settled on her chest felt lighter knowing she would not be leaving.
"Christine….Christine!"
She darted awake at the different tone he had this morning. He sounded almost jubilant…
Nevertheless, she swung out of bed and dressed in the red gown she had worn the night she had first arrived at the Palais Garnier. The dress her father had purchased inconspicuously. She decided to leave her hair unpinned and free.
Christine felt beautiful.
Leaving the dorm, she headed down to the chapel.
Christine wound up arriving ten minutes earlier than she was used to, and so upon entering the chapel, a vase of red roses sat on a small table that had been propped up in the center of the room, along with a little notecard.
Happy Birthday, My Dear.
-Your Angel of Music
Christine could feel heat rush to her cheeks as her lips turned upwards into a smile. Around the middle of the vase was a black silk ribbon. She fingered with the smooth fabric in her hand until he made his presence known to her.
"Good morning, my dear. I take it you liked the surprise?" His rich voice reverberated through the room.
Christine nodded, the smile still on her face. "It's a beautiful gift, mon ange! Although I don't recall telling you when my birthday was." She raised a suspicious brow.
"The Little Giry has been quite excited to inform everyone".
A spark of hope lit in her chest. "So you do work in the theater! I dearly wish I could meet you face to face, but I understand it is not possible". The spark died out in those last words.
"Unfortunately so, but enough with what cannot be, and instead what can be. Shall we begin?"
Before Christine knew it, their lessons had concluded for the day. She gathered the new sheet music he had bought for her together and with the other hand, she delicately lifted the vase of roses off the table.
"Thank you again, mon ange. I feel bad that you went out of your way to do something as kind as this".
"It was my pleasure, Christine. Make every moment of your day count", he told her, almost sounding like a command. But Christine would happily oblige. Nodding her head, she went to leave the room when his voice stopped her.
"I have but one last gift for you, my dear".
"Angel, I hope it is not another vase of roses. I'm afraid I would have to make an additional trip to fetch them", she jested lightly.
Her angel let out a hearty laugh. The sound was music to her ears. "No, my dear. The last gift I have procured for you should be waiting in your room as we speak. Off you go now!"
Christine smiled and hitched up her skirts and she raced up the staircases.
And just as he had told her, a long, thin wrapped package sat on her bed. Holding it in her hands, it was very lightweight. And with careful fingers, she pulled the paper off, revealing a violin bow.
A sad smile graced her features until she peered at the end, where the wood had been engraved.
CD. Her initials.
Tears began to fill her eyes. Another note sat on the bed, waiting to be read. With trembling fingers, she read the card.
You told me that your father's violin was engraved with his initials. Now you may play with him whenever you wish.
-Your Angel of Music
Minutes later, the sound of a violin echoed through the upper levels of the Palais Garnier.
Hello, my lovelies! Just a heads up that I may not update as frequently due to school work, but I promise to continue working hard for everyone! Until next time!
Your Obedient Servant
-Emma51020