Aida, mid-way through Act One
Jul 16, 2006 20:50:55 GMT -5
Post by Vianne Giry on Jul 16, 2006 20:50:55 GMT -5
*Mme. Giry grimly watched from the wings as the corps de ballet twirled near-flawlessly--thanks to her rigorous instruction; the harshness of which had only increased in the preceding days--through their routine.*
Not a word. Not a sign from him!
*She turned and made her way to the empty halls leading to the grand foyer of the Opera. Suddenly, a tall gentleman in evening dress exited the theatre from one of the arches leading to a private box. She started and paled as she recognized Sir Andrew Ffoulkes as he strode towards her.*
"Monsieur Ffoulkes," *she said lowly with a courtsy.* "You cannot be here without reason..."
"Indeed, Madam. If you will allow me?" *He offered her his arm and she allowed herself to be led towards a shadowed alcove in an abandoned part of the foyer. She drew back slightly as the form of another man loomed before her.*
"Forgive me, Madame Giry--" *said Sir Andrew.* "Lord Tony Dewhurst, another fine member of the League."
*She curtseyed again and greeted Lord Tony.*
"What has happened?" *she said in a thrilling whisper, tremors of fear evident in her tone.*
"As much as we expected--" *began Sir Andrew grimly.* "Armand is free and safe, as planned--and Sir Percy now sits in his place."
*Madame Giry gave a small cry before she regained control of herself and glanced fearfully around the foyer to make sure she hadn't been heard.*
"What must be done to deliver him?"
*Lord Tony here entered the hushed exchange.*
"That is why we are here to see you, Madame. Percy has a plan--he must have. Only there is no way for us to know it! Chauvelin knows that Percy has no living family--otherwise any member of the League might plead the case of a brother or cousin to gain admittance to his cell. And, alas, Chauvelin holds little trust in any gentleman and any good Briton."
"Here is where we would dare ask for your assistance, Madame Giry," *rejoined Sir Andrew.* "As a woman native to the land of the Republic, Chauvelin would trust that you subscribe to his cause either through fear or through the same misguided principles as he possesses."
"We also understand, Madame, that you possess a striking resemblance to--" *Lord Tony was abruptly cut off as Sir Andrew caught his eye and gave a short shake of his head.*
"We would ask, Madame Giry, if you would be willing--"
"I will do anything. Anything!" *she cried in a whisper.*
*Nodding, they withdrew further into the alcove.*
"Commit this address to memory--" *said Sir Andrew, showing a paper.* "It will be destroyed once you have it. You must go to the Temple Prison and tell them that you are Lady Blakeney, Sir Percy's wife, just returned from England, who wishes to speak with her husband before he is sent to the guillotine."
*Madame Giry felt a wave of cold wash over her trembling limbs at the thought.*
"Though I will gladly go, I fear an impediment to the plan," *she said slowly.* "I have not the garments to befit a lady of status such as he...such as Sir Percy...would have in a wife." *His name did not sound so strange on her tongue, although Vianne had had a terrible anxiety that it would.*
"Worry not, Madame, on that account. You shall this evening be taken to a trusted milliner's and fitted with all necissary habiliments. And here," *taking something from his pocket, Lord Dewhurst held out a ring to her.* "This shall prove to all who doubt you that you are Lady Blakeney."
*Madame Giry looked at the ring, imprinted with the same device that had been on the scrap of paper Sir Percy had given to her at their first meeting. After a moment, she raised her head and stared directly at the two gentlemen.*
"There is much to be done, and not a moment to lose, Messieurs. Shall we?"
*Leading the way, she, Sir Andrew and Lord Tony exited the Opera.*
Not a word. Not a sign from him!
*She turned and made her way to the empty halls leading to the grand foyer of the Opera. Suddenly, a tall gentleman in evening dress exited the theatre from one of the arches leading to a private box. She started and paled as she recognized Sir Andrew Ffoulkes as he strode towards her.*
"Monsieur Ffoulkes," *she said lowly with a courtsy.* "You cannot be here without reason..."
"Indeed, Madam. If you will allow me?" *He offered her his arm and she allowed herself to be led towards a shadowed alcove in an abandoned part of the foyer. She drew back slightly as the form of another man loomed before her.*
"Forgive me, Madame Giry--" *said Sir Andrew.* "Lord Tony Dewhurst, another fine member of the League."
*She curtseyed again and greeted Lord Tony.*
"What has happened?" *she said in a thrilling whisper, tremors of fear evident in her tone.*
"As much as we expected--" *began Sir Andrew grimly.* "Armand is free and safe, as planned--and Sir Percy now sits in his place."
*Madame Giry gave a small cry before she regained control of herself and glanced fearfully around the foyer to make sure she hadn't been heard.*
"What must be done to deliver him?"
*Lord Tony here entered the hushed exchange.*
"That is why we are here to see you, Madame. Percy has a plan--he must have. Only there is no way for us to know it! Chauvelin knows that Percy has no living family--otherwise any member of the League might plead the case of a brother or cousin to gain admittance to his cell. And, alas, Chauvelin holds little trust in any gentleman and any good Briton."
"Here is where we would dare ask for your assistance, Madame Giry," *rejoined Sir Andrew.* "As a woman native to the land of the Republic, Chauvelin would trust that you subscribe to his cause either through fear or through the same misguided principles as he possesses."
"We also understand, Madame, that you possess a striking resemblance to--" *Lord Tony was abruptly cut off as Sir Andrew caught his eye and gave a short shake of his head.*
"We would ask, Madame Giry, if you would be willing--"
"I will do anything. Anything!" *she cried in a whisper.*
*Nodding, they withdrew further into the alcove.*
"Commit this address to memory--" *said Sir Andrew, showing a paper.* "It will be destroyed once you have it. You must go to the Temple Prison and tell them that you are Lady Blakeney, Sir Percy's wife, just returned from England, who wishes to speak with her husband before he is sent to the guillotine."
*Madame Giry felt a wave of cold wash over her trembling limbs at the thought.*
"Though I will gladly go, I fear an impediment to the plan," *she said slowly.* "I have not the garments to befit a lady of status such as he...such as Sir Percy...would have in a wife." *His name did not sound so strange on her tongue, although Vianne had had a terrible anxiety that it would.*
"Worry not, Madame, on that account. You shall this evening be taken to a trusted milliner's and fitted with all necissary habiliments. And here," *taking something from his pocket, Lord Dewhurst held out a ring to her.* "This shall prove to all who doubt you that you are Lady Blakeney."
*Madame Giry looked at the ring, imprinted with the same device that had been on the scrap of paper Sir Percy had given to her at their first meeting. After a moment, she raised her head and stared directly at the two gentlemen.*
"There is much to be done, and not a moment to lose, Messieurs. Shall we?"
*Leading the way, she, Sir Andrew and Lord Tony exited the Opera.*