Chapter 4: Futility

Is it an exercise in futility to count grains of sand in the wind?
Is this act still futile if it were to save a life?

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

Rumors ran rampant and riot amongst the servant's quarters that day, causing the usually aloof Christine to stop and unobtrusively listen to the unending chatter around her. The ceaseless tongue wagging of her fellow maids never failed to amaze and confound her. She rolled her eyes at the rapt attention paid to the current gossiper.

"Oh, I heard that she is a witch and has a face that looks like folded bread dough."

"Well, I too heard that she is a witch, but did you hear that she has a demon for a companion?"

The sound of gasps and nervous titters filled the space required for the gossipmonger to draw a breath before she continued.

"Oh yes!" She nodded emphatically. "I heard tell that she cast a spell to summon him to her side. The power of her magic binds him to her. They travel from village to village, never staying in any one place for too long. They say that the two of them sing to make the angels weep with jealousy. And," the speaker paused dramatically, "the upstairs maid, the one with the crooked nose. Ah yes, that is right, her name escaped me for moment, but now I remember it. Her name is Gretchen! You know the one! Well, she overheard Monsieur le Comte speaking with the Comtessa and Gretchen swears on her life that they are here in the house. They are to perform tonight for the Comte, the Comtessa and their guests after supper." Another pause, as a female voice cackled an incoherent question. "No, I do not know where. Somewhere in the bloody house, I suppose. How should I know? The Comte does not ask my opinion in such matters. Never mind that, now, imagine it. A witch and a demon, here under the same roof as us poor, decent God-fearing folk. What a scandal! What is the Comte thinking to allow such a thing? They spend the night here in this house as guests of the Comte. I shall not be able to sleep a wink tonight for fear of losing my immortal soul!"

Christine groaned inwardly and shook her head in disgust.

"Ignorant peasants, the lot of them. That is all they are ... superstitious fools."

She walked deeper into the shadows, trying to place as much distance between her and the others that served the de Mornay family. Their malicious words towards two people she did not know stung her and she could not fathom why it should bother her so. It was just one more thing that set her apart from the rest of them.

From the first moment the young girl stepped foot into the house, she knew that the servants considered her odd, a misfit among misfits. She belonged nowhere. Her father was the Vicomte Anton de Mornay's music instructor and Christine lived in the de Mornay chateau on the borrowed grace of her father's position. When her father became ill and died, the old Comte took pity on the orphaned girl as the same illness that claimed Christine's father had struck down his pregnant wife and young son. The man deeply mourned the passing of his son, his wife and their unborn child, and recognized the same grief in the eyes of the young girl. That shared sorrow prompted the Comte to show compassion to the girl. He allowed her to remain in the chateau as a member of the serving staff and then, just as quickly forgot about her.

So, at the tender age of nine years, Christine donned an apron and a white cap and began earning her way in life. She lived as quietly and unobtrusively as possible and went out of her way to blend into the shadows. While she made no friends, she had no enemies either. The only noticeable action of hers, which caused her to stand apart from the others of her station, was that she often snuck away from her duties to pray for her father in the chateau's unused and dilapidated chapel.

An unfortunate twist of fate forced the role of servant upon the girl, not the circumstances of her birth. Christine had the manners befitting a child of a musician who was a member of the bourgeoisie, which made her too refined for the lowly position in which she found herself. Had her father lived, she knew he intended to complete her vocal training and then assist her in a pursuit of a career on the opera stage. Her father strongly believed in her ability, but if his dreams of having her sing went awry, he had planned to make arrangements that would provide her with sufficient education or training to find suitable employment elsewhere. Tragically, the man died before he could ensure his dreams for his daughter would become a reality. Therefore, the household staff held the girl at arm's length as her refined manners set her apart from them. An outcast below the stairs and too unimportant for anyone to take note of her from above them, she lived her life in quiet desperation. She had spent the last nine years of her life attempting to attract as little attention to herself as possible. Now that she was 18, she had begun to form a plan to leave the chateau. She wished to sing. Before her father worked at the chateau, the pair had wandered about Europe eking out an existence, he by playing his violin and she, by accompanying him with her angelic voice. A talented violinist, he earned a living performing at fairs and sometimes at inns in exchange for room and board. As a very young child, Christine had often accompanied her father's playing by singing. Her sweet voice captivated so many that her father had begun to train her, but the lessons and her hopes died with her father. However, with the passage of time, the girl's dreams began to awaken and the thought of singing on the stage of an opera house had become like a siren's song sounding within her soul.