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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 19:44:34 GMT -5
*Madame Giry cross the stage in her practice-dress, of plain dark material and with a heightened hem to facilitate dance. She had no use for frills and furbelows. Not anymore.* "Maestro?" *she nodded curtly to the conductor, and the orchestra began to play. She paced across the stage, watching the girls' progress and barking the occasional command or rebuke if a girl fell out of step.* "Meg! Concentrate girl! Battement tendu à la seconde to prepare for the pirouette a full four counts too late! Maestro, that strain again, please!" *The girls stood back as their mistress demonstrated the correct motion, perfectly on time with the music. Madame executed a flawless pirouette and turned to face the girls.* "If you please, ladies, that is how I expect all of you to perform that step on the morrow! Now, we continue! Maestro! If it is not too much trouble, Mademoiselle Cocteau," *she said, singling out a small girl with pointed features, mousy hair and a vacant expression,* "would you do me a favour and keep your head out of the clouds and on your shoulders where it belongs? If you paid half as much attention to your tours chaînés déboulés as you did to that silly boy I know you've been sneaking out to see, we would all see a marked improvement in your dancing!" *Madame retook possession of her cane and began to beat the time of the music on the floor as she paced once more, observing her corps de ballet moving like a finely oiled machine.* One only needs to give it a tune-up, now and then, *she thought to herself as she watched with hidden, secret pride in the artistic troupe she had carved out of the gaggle of girls she'd been given at the start of her career as the Opera's ballet mistress.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Jul 14, 2006 19:46:03 GMT -5
Sir Percy carefully slipped into the back of the auditorium and watched as Mme. Giry began to call out instructions for rehearsal.
Odd's fish! The corps de ballet...they all look a bit young, the poor puppies. Ah well. I think a nap would be in order. Blast, but that instructor does look a bit like Margot...zounds! A nap will refresh me...and then I must meet St. Just.
Claiming a seat, Sir Percy felt his eyelids begin to droop as the opening bars from Aida were played.
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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 19:54:45 GMT -5
*The practice eventually ended, and Mme. Giry sent the girls off to change for dinner. Wearily, she told Meg not to wait for her and went to discuss some of her notes with M. Reyer after the orchestra members had filtered out. Alone at last, she was about to leave when she spotted a lanky figure in the dim light, unmoving in the back row of plush velvet seats.* "Monsieur!" *she called out, her voice echoing slightly. The man didn't move. She strode quickly to the back of the auditorium and laid a hand on the man's shoulder.* Asleep? Amidst all this sound and confusion? *Admittedly, it was dead silent now, with only faint and indistinct footsteps and voices drifting in from the halls. She gave him a slight shake.* "Awaken, monsieur. The managers are in their office." *She suspected from his fancy dress that he would be here to see the owners or the patron. True, she did sometimes do duty as all those things, but for now she was a simple ballet instructor.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Jul 14, 2006 19:59:29 GMT -5
Sir Percy had been having a rather frustrating dream in which his cravat simply refused to tie, AND the buckles on his shoes were not at their utmost shine. He was shaken awake by the hand on his shoulder, and blinking, he looked up sleepily.
A beautiful woman, half hidden in shadow was staring rather severely down at him.
Sir Percy rose to his six foot odd height and bowed deeply.
"My apologies, madame. I fear I fell asleep whilst you were rehearsing. It shan't happen again."
Gone from his voice was the inane laugh, the drawling quality which made him seem so lazy and bored, and in its place was a soft, almost musical note, which caressed the listener like warm water.
Sir Percy raised his head slightly and peered at the half-visible woman. Holding his hat fumblingly in his hands, he spoke softly.
"Madame?"
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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 20:31:36 GMT -5
*Madame Giry stilled at the voice so at odds with the man himself. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head at an angle to better observe his expression.* "Quite alright, Monsieur..." *she supressed the inexplicable tremor in her voice and turned away, picking up a lit lamp which had been left on a shelf in a small alcove partway up the wall in the back. She held the lamp aloft to better illuminate the space which grew rapidly darker as the twilight gathered outside.* "Is there anything else I may do for you, Monsieur?" *she asked in a softer tone as her brusque rehearsal demeanour began to fade out of sheer physical exhaustion after a hard day's work.* "Are you here to speak with the managers or le Monsieur le Vicomte, the patron?" *Her softly accented English warmed and tinged the atmosphere with a kind of spice, a kind of fragrance, like incense or smoke.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Jul 14, 2006 20:36:11 GMT -5
Percy was silent for a moment, as he carefully studied this woman who so resembled his wife. As she spoke, he stood entranced, fists unconciously clenching on his hat. Her voice was exquiste.
"I beg your pardon, Madame. I desire an audience with Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny. If he is available..."
He let his voice trail off as he bowed again, and kept his eyes locked on the woman in front of him.
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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 20:43:43 GMT -5
*Madame Giry held the lamp aloft and gestured for him to follow her as she left the silent auditorium and made her way through the myriad passages of the Opera house.* "I am not entirely certain if he is to be found at the opera at this hour...however, given that many have now gone to supper and several of the girls are at loose ends--it is highly likely he is still upon the premesis to see what he may glean from the circumstances." *Madame fought to keep the disapproving expression off her face as she thought of the Vicomte and the habits she'd heard he was forming.* Someone is going to get very much hurt by him... *She glanced sidelong at the gentleman by her side and then fastened her gaze upon the floor before them and forced her expression into its natural solemnity. He seemed to be looking at her a great deal.* "Do I offend you at all, Monsieur?" *she asked quietly as she lifted her skirt with one hand to ascend a short flight of stairs in the narrow hall.*
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Post by Sir Percy on Jul 14, 2006 20:46:40 GMT -5
Sir Percy stopped, utterly startled.
"On the contrary, Madame, you are the very picture of beauty," he said quietly.
He glanced quickly at her, and as they ascended into the hall, dropped his now-ruined hat into a small bucket.
"One often hopes to meet angels on earth. Your prescence is refreshing."
As she glanced at him again, he bowed deeply.
"Your servant, my lady."
After a pause, he inquired, "You do not approve of Monsieur le Vicomte?"
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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 21:07:09 GMT -5
*Mme. Giry bit her lip and said nothing for a moment. When she spoke, she began hesitantly.* "Beauty is of no use to me, Monsieur. I had rather a steadfast mind and an unwavering spirit of discipline." *She cast a veiled look at the gentleman and stopped in her tracks and looked him dead in the eye.* "And you must not speak of angels to me, Monsieur. Appearances as such can be greatly deceiving..." *She glanced hazily, lingeringly, into the darkness around them and fought entrapment by her memories. A moment later she caught up her skirts and continued making her way along the passage. "As for Monsieur le Vicomte..." *she said on a sigh,* "it is not my place to speak disparagingly of him, and even so, my approval or disapproval of him or his private life can occasion nothing but misery for anyone involved, no matter how innocent and unawares they may be."
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Post by Sir Percy on Jul 14, 2006 21:13:41 GMT -5
Percy bowed.
"Forgive me, if I have insulted you." His voice was soft, nearly pleading.
Carefully, he reached out and picked up her hand, and kissed it.
"I too, understand the mind and discipline, my lady."
For a long moment, the very air was fraught with a sense of knowledge. Then Sir Percy dropped her hand and resumed his place at her side, a gentleman once more.
"La, madame. It appears that Monsieur le Vicomte has not grown up well."
He smiled benignly at her, but catching the look in her eyes, dropped his voice once more to that low and feeling murmer, which seemed to encompass the very depths of human compassion and understanding.
"We shall speak no further on the Vicomte. I have caused you embarrassment, and for that, I beg your forgiveness."
He bowed to her, keeping his eyes lowered.
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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 21:21:42 GMT -5
*Madame Giry nodded coolly. She would not act the ingenue around such a man.* I must be at least five years his senior. "It does not pain me to speak of him, Monsieur. One must only be cautious, you know. Undoubtedly you are aware that a man with great social and political power is not a man to be taken too lightly." *She shook her head.* "The Vicomte is thought by some an ineffectual moneyed nobleman who would rather trim his hair than move in the intellectual circles of the artistes. However, the aristocracy and the arts go hand in hand, back further than any of us can recall. Hence it does us well to ignore the Vicomte's supposed shortcomings and do what we must to retain his patronage." *Her look was sharp and almost cruel.* "The Vicomte is a more dangerous man than most will allow. He knows that he cannot fool me so easily, and as such, he is perhaps more of a threat to myself..." *She paused before smiling with a touch of wickedness.* "Of course he would only be so dangerous if I had not a measure of my own kind of danger to offer him. If I were not such a threat, I should not be so threatened..."
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Post by Sir Percy on Jul 14, 2006 21:33:12 GMT -5
Percy looked at her sharply, but covered it with an inane laugh.
"Why yes indeed, ma'am. One cannot wield power without the backing of his name."
"Your lesson of the Vicomte does you credit, madame. There are few who would speak out so calmly, unless they too had a great power to wield against him."
Turning to face her, he let his lazy blue eyes harden for the first time and his voice dropped from compassion to command.
"Power, Madame Giry, is part of all the bargains we make. Either with God, or Lucifer...power is the currency of the realm, is it not? Why, even this country and its bloodthirsty Republic pay homage to the goddess Terror...though they clothe her in a white shift and call her Liberty. And what for? Not, as so many believe, for the good of the people."
"No, madame," he spoke, stepping closer, "they conceal and disguise and barter their very souls for power. What they often forget to ask is the price. And many are loathe to pay it when the Collector comes."
He was trembling, he noticed distantly; his high forehead had broken out with sweat, and his hands were bloodless. Taking a breath, he calmed himself immeasurably and looked at the woman facing him.
"You are more than aware of the ever shifting balance, are you not, madame? You would not denounce the Vicomte--and with good reason!--if you did not have your own power to barter against his."
With a calculated, casual shrug, he turned and began walking along the corridor again, Madame Giry at his side.
"Strange though, that a woman could hold such a weapon in her hands."
He looked calmly at her, and waited to see her reaction.
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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 21:50:52 GMT -5
*Madame Giry laughed, the sound devoid of real mirth.* "I believe you'll find currency is real the power of any realm, and Liberty a lie we tell ourselves--either in the hopes of something better or as a deluded motive in a flawed cause. Servants are servants, no matter their placement upon the map, Monsieur." *She raised an eloquent brow in his direction.* "And I fear several women may avail themselves of the weapon you believe I have at my disposal, or any human being. One only need listen from time to time, and choose their course with the utmost care and attention to any detail which may have undue bearing in their case in the future or at present." *Madame Giry's lips quirked into a slightly mocking half-smile.* "You speak so glowingly of me, having only just made my acquaintance, and yet you have little faith in my sex in general, it would seem. What poor soul have you chanced upon in the past, that you seem so shocked at my humble capacity?"
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Post by Sir Percy on Jul 14, 2006 22:02:24 GMT -5
Percy studied her carefully, listening both to what was said, and what to was not said.
"Madame speaks the truth, I fear, but at least you do not blind yourself to it. That too, is to your credit. 'Liberte, Fraternite, Equality' are nothing more than masks for Oppression, Exile, and Superiority and France lies to herself every day she upholds that motto."
"As for the fairer sex, m'selle, they are often equipped with an array of weapons we poor souls cannot help but fall prey to. Your ladyship uses them very eloquently, and with the suggestion of long practice."
At her last words, Sir Percy turned a shade more pale, and a touch more flaxen, but remained as gentlemanly as ever.
"A deeper and more sorrowful soul than any other in the world, madam, and yet one that is wretched and torn with darkness as well, for the crimes the fair lady commits are sins of the highest ordeal, especially, I'd wager, in your new Republic. But I would beg madam's discretion and understanding as I keep her name free from blasphemy."
As they continued to walk, Sir Percy looked quietly at this woman who so resembled that same creature who caused him such distress.
"Pray, madam, I beg you. Indulge me with a tale or two, for the way is long, and one can hardly appear at the Opera without hearing of its infamous Ghost. Are the stories true?"
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Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 14, 2006 22:13:20 GMT -5
*Madame Giry paled slightly, but spoke unflinchingly.* "The truth of any matter would depend on the storyteller, Monsieur. Some of the stories to which you refer are patently untrue, while others have grains of truth which have been lost in legend. I suspect very much, Monsieur, that no one could tell you the absolute truth of any of it, not even I or anyone else privvy to half of what went on. Those closest to the heart of the matter are either no longer with us, or in a state which would forbid them to speak of it without fact being clouded by memory or a desire to change the past by retelling it in the present." *She lifted her chin thoughtfully for a moment.* "Rest assured that what remains of the Opera Ghost ought not to be disturbed, monsieur. To awaken what has long since been asleep would be a greater folly than the first time, when it happened through innocence and naivete. To do so in even partial knowledge of the possible--nay, inevitable horror that such action would reap is a sin beyond any committed thus far..."
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