Chapter 19: Together We Sigh

i wander in the night
so lost and alone
i wander in the dark
and am never at home

i never feel happy
i never feel sad
i never feel
and that makes me glad

you walk in the light
so lost and alone
you walk in the day
and are never at home

you never look happy
you never look sad
you never look at all
and that makes you glad

together we sigh
together we cry
tomorrow we live
but today we must die

"in the night" by Nyasia A. Maire © 2007

"Oh, Christine! It is so incredibly beautiful and Monsieur Destler is so romantic! I just simply cannot believe that you are engaged to be married! We simply must go and flaunt this ring before Jammes and La Sorelli. They will swoon with envy!"

"No, Meg. I do not wish for them to find a way to mar my happiness. They always do. They do not welcome my presence as they do yours. You know that I have never fit in with the rest of the girls. I am most certain they will find a way to tarnish this day for me if we inform them of my engagement. Besides, I would like to speak with your Maman and if I do not speak with her tonight, I shall have to wait until next Sunday. My inquiries cannot wait another day, much less an entire week."

The willowy blonde turned and looked up into her friend's eyes, the gaiety fading from her face, a slight frown creasing her brow, her voice becoming soft and slightly anxious.

"Are you all right, Christine? I mean, you are happy, are you not?"

"Yes, Meg. I am happy, but all of this is happening so fast that I feel a bit out of control. When I am with Erik, he makes my body feel as if it were on fire. I want something. No, I need something and I do not know what to do. So, I thought I should ask your Maman about some things that, well, about the things that a husband expects from his wife, you know, the act that brings babies..."

Her voice trailed into silence as she turned a deep scarlet. Her friend blushed as well and looked away.

"Oh ... that ... Well, Christine, before you speak with Maman, I would like to throw in a word of caution about her and ask you to remember that if you love him, everything will work itself out on its own. All you need do is allow your feelings to guide you." She gave a wistful sigh. "When a man and woman love each other, it is full of feelings, the most wonderful feelings."

Meg's eyes clouded over for a moment, lost in a sweet memory before she continued.

"However, Maman told me about wifely duties soon after Raoul began courting me. I am uncertain whether she intended to make a woman's wedding night sound frightening, but she did. I simply cannot imagine that God would make loving your husband a painful act. Perhaps, a small pain the first time, but not something to dread every time your husband joins with you. I am most certain that if coupling were truly horrible, there would be far less babies in the world. Also, I know that some of the older girls in the chorus and ballet corps have lovers. I overheard La Sorelli talking about Raoul's brother, Phillipe." Embarrassed, Meg paused and bit her lower lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to escape her lips. When she regained control, she continued. "She seemed quite pleased with the act, so take Maman's advice with a grain of salt, or perhaps in this case, a spoonful of honey."

The two friends stood and stared at one another for a moment in an uncomfortable silence. Meg looked away first, biting her lip.

"I wonder if Raoul is thinking of me. I miss him." She whispered sadly.

"Meg, you saw him last night and you never normally see Raoul on Sundays. Has your Maman said anything to you at all about what happened last night?"

"No and that is worse than if she screamed at me. Her silence is far worse than any punishment she could mete out to me, other than forbidding me to see Raoul again, of course. I hope he stops by rehearsals tomorrow."

"Would you like me to speak with your Maman about Raoul?"

"Oh heavens, no! Please do not do that Christine. The mere thought of you doing that simply mortifies me. No, I will suffer the silence one more evening. Now, do not let me keep you."

Christine gave Meg an awkward hug.

"That is the second hug I have received from her in one day. I cannot even remember if she ever hugged me before today. She must be in love. She would never have agreed to marry Monsieur Destler if she did not love him. I am so happy for her. Finally!"

"So, that is how babies are made."

Christine shivered, but she could not decide if it was out of dread or excitement. She tried to join Meg's words together with her Maman's, but found it difficult to reconcile the two differing points of view.

"I suppose I will find out the truth after Erik and I marry. I cannot imagine that he would ever do anything to hurt me, so I will just have to trust in that."

It was still early in the evening and Christine was not at all tired. She decided to go for a walk around the opera house, but first she would pay the chapel a visit. She quickly changed into a black, long-sleeve silk blouse, her black hose, black breeches and soft-soled, black leather boots. She opened her closet and withdrew her black, hooded cloak. Flinging it around her shoulders, she fastened the cloak at her throat with her mother's Egyptian scarab broach and lifted the hood to cover her mass of chocolate-brown curls. Going to the small night table next to her bed, she opened the drawer and withdrew three candles and several wooden matches, placing them in the pocket of her cloak. She examined her reflection and smiled as the onyx broach reflected a sparkle of candle light. She nodded, satisfied with the sight she saw in the mirror.

"Ah, yes. I look much the proper Opera Ghost now. Madame was correct. Learning to make one's own clothes is a very useful skill. I am certain she never intended that I make myself breeches, but I think they suit me."

She turned from the mirror, quietly slipped down the hall and out the door. The girl blended into the shadows, avoiding the occasional patch of flickering gas lamp light. She entered the chapel and taking a match from her pocket, lit one of the votive candles. She knelt and said a brief prayer for her father's soul. Her eyes then moved to the stained glass angel. The angel appeared just as it always had. Gone was the twisted half-visage of the night before.

"Did I imagine it? No. I cannot doubt. No. I will not doubt. After all, I met him. I met Erik, so it did happen."

"Thank you, Angel."

Her gaze shifted heavenwards.

"Thank you, Papa." She whispered.

She stood and brushed the dust from her breeches and hose. Out of the corner of her eye, a twinkle of light caught her attention. She turned and found her eyes locked with the impassive gaze of the stained glass angel.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" She smirked.

As if in response to her quiet query, there was a click and the stained glass window began to swing slowly into the darkness of the passage behind it.

"What? Do you wish to lead me somewhere? Very well, my Angel, you know I can refuse you nothing. Lead the way!"