The OPERA HOUSE Part 3 & 4

3.

Christine Daaé leaned her weight on her left leg before she raised her right leg without bending it to level with her hips. There she stopped and then arched her back to raise her leg higher till it touched her forehead. She held it there with her mind focused on maintaining her balance. She then slowly lowered her leg and feeling the blood circulating there into her legs once more.

“Your posture is good but your movement are too …rigid.” Christine looked to the lady who was her coach and mother. She closed her eyes on that but her mind perked up when she heard the pianist played the tune from Faust. Her grievances were forgotten and she was into her Marguerite alter ego character from Faust. 

“Christine, do it once more but relaxed your muscles.” The younger lady heard her mother and the dancer went back to her routine. Her move was then told off by the older lady and Christine then snapped back.

“Mother…Why …”

“Mother? Its Madame Giry to you like all the others. Go back to your lessons.” Christine stopped her tantrums and resumed her lessons. It was always the same for her mother; her daughter was to be better. It mattered not for the others.

“They are not Daaé.” That was the simple answer given by her mother.

It was easy being the daughter of Major Fabian Daae Giry of the French Dragoon but not that of Madame Giry. She recalled from the age of three she was coached in the dance lessons.

“Mama, I can’t.” Christine then screamed out when she was forced to do the split. She cried out louder when her mother then insisted that she do it or there would be no supper. It drove the neighbour over but her mother shooed them away. She went through all that in the evening when her mother was back from work till the hour to sleep. One night she cowered in the corner and bawled her voice out. It was so loud that it made her mother sat up to look at her.

“Christine, I know you are hurt but darling, that is price we pay for fame. You have to be better than me to outlast the others.” Her mother saw in front of her with the pleading eyes. “I was there but I gave it up for you. I gave birth to you and lost my …postures.”

stand it all then but the tears on her mother’s cheeks told her that she had to please her mother. She hugged her mother then and continued her lessons. After all, there was no one else besides Mama in her life then. She did her first performance for her mother at the age of six and it was from there, more lessons before she joined the Opera House as the apprentice at twelve.

There she met the man known as Lenier. He was always Lenier and never Uncle or any last names. The man was the one who took the mother and girl to their new accommodation.

“It’s not much but it’s comfortable and warm during the colder nights.” Lenier patted the heater on the wall by the window. “I changed the mattress for a newer one but we have not the money to buy one so I took it from the Coligny’s bed. He won’t notice the difference for he seldom lie on it.”

Lenier indicated to the two beds that he had arranged there. They were identical in design but the one by the window was with a floral bed covers. Christine recalled jumping onto the floral bed cover mattress and laughed. It was softer than her old one. It was not that they could not afford one but not the softness there.

“From here, you can see the circus there. I can bring you there if you want.” Lenier looked to the lady but she declined him casually.

“Well, that’s all then.” Lenier then took leave of the mother and child who had then leaned out to see the circus even though it was close. Lenier did not see the young girl turned to see him. She was smiling then.

It was the first man in her life that shown her kindness.

The second one was the pianist.

Jean Valerian the elderly man whose fingers could bring out the beautiful music from the ivory keys on the piano. He taught her the lyrics of Carmen then with Christine seated next to him on the piano seat.

Car tu n'avais eu qu'à paraître,

Qu'a jeter un regard sur moin
Pour t'emperer de tout mon être,
Ô ma Carmen!
Et j'étais une chose à toi
Carmen, je t'aime!

“Try that , my dear.” The pianist hummed the tune to the Christine then at fourteen of age. It was her break from the dance routine then of the Swan Lake. She rushed to the pianist who was ever willing to play some chords for her. He had heard her scream a year ago when she fell on her routine and hurt her left heel. She screamed out loud on the pain then at her mother.

“Mother, I am in pain. I need to rest.” The tone of her voice and the resonance it emit caught his attention. He has a keen ear for voice as Madame Giry was good at picking the dancers. The pianist had taken the girl to the side and applied ointment for her.

“Monsieur Valerian, I will take care of her.” The mother had come to retrieve her daughter. It may be a personal fear of her of a man may be molesting her. She was however assured when another lady approached her daughter.

“Madame Giry, I will take care of her.” The other elderly slapped at the pianist’s hand then took over the task. Christine soon took her rest next to the pianist. The Carmen was played out with his fingers with every tap delicate to the spring below the key to vibrate the strings beneath the cover and the tune came out with its sweet melody.

“Christine, you are a good dancer but your true talent are in your voice. You could sing.” The pianist then asked her to sing the basic vowels AEIOU. It came out beautifully but Christine was not able to continue on then for she was asked to resume her dancing lesson. Madame Giry had then turned to whisper to the pianist.

“Never intrude in my dancers.”

It was not for another month before Christine was to hear the conversation of her singing lessons. She was seated with her mother at the table having their evening meal when the elderly lady joined them.

“Madame Valerian, I did not invite you.” Madame Giry glared at the other. “I am the one who trained the sopranos. And your role was for the dancer. We can share her talents. If she failed as a dancer, she could be a soprano.”

“Do we agree?” Madame Valerian asked.

“She is my daughter. I will train her…”

 “And I will sponsor her training as well.” Madame Valerian handed over the purse. “I am doing it because she holds a talent inside her. With this, she may be the next soprano that will bring the audience to their feet.”

“She is not to be sold.” Madame Giry made her point to the other. So that ended the first bout between the two over Christine.

4.

“She is an angel ….No, she is the angel for the role.” Madame Valerian sat herself on the dining table after having served the dinner spread for her husband, he pianist. “If only Margot was around, she may surpass ….No, she may not. I know…”

“And dinner is getting cold.” The man across the table spoke up. He was not a man of many words for his voice was the piano music that he tap with the ivory keys like his teeth. “And you ought to eat first.”

“Eat? Is that all you hold in compassion for missing Margot?” Lady Valerian was upset then. “Margot is our daughter.”

“And she is missing.” The man slumped in his frame while he lowered the fork he was holding. “The war is a sad event and people get…”

“Margot is not dead. She is only missing.” Lady Valerian recalled the day they had to leave their home for the borders of France. It was the year of 1876, when the Montenegrin declaring war on the Ottoman Empire. The Valerian then a middle aged couple had migrated from the southern part of the continent to Montenegro playing their trade as pianist and soprano to the elites there. They had moved there when the music scene there accepted the beauty of the operas. It was great for some years and then the war came. It was then to flee for freedom from tyranny. They took their valued daughter Margot then a young soprano who had yet to find her place on the stage. Their fled to freedom was running with the others in the same predicament but not all of them shared the same trauma like the Valerian.

“Margot missing!” The wife called him. “She was next to me.”

The man stood up from his rest by the tree. They were in the woods with five families trying to found the shortest way across. The lady went frantic and started calling the name loud until she was told to quiet down by the others.

“Your shouts may bring the soldiers.” It shut her up but not her search. The couple split up to find their daughter. She was not seen but the soldiers saw them. They came rushing towards the man and he fled with the bullets whizzing past him. The man jumped the obstacles and finally found cover to evade his pursuers. He then found then in his run he had forgotten his love.

His only love left then in his life..

He went looking for her. He did not find her until the next day break hiding in a fox hole. She did not dug in but tried to burrow there. He pulled her out and then held her close.

“My love, we will not be apart again. We will flee together and if it happened die together.” That vow carried them across the borders and then to a new life where he plays with his fingers and she coached with her voice but every moment, they have in their mind was their daughter, Margot.

“Old man! Are you deaf? I want to coach Christine. She is a gem.”

“Madame Giry won’t approve.” The man replied. “Can we go back to our dinner?”

The dinner went on like many to others to be repeated every day and so was the lady  her insistent with Madame Giry. She did it until Madame Giry loathed the conversation.

“Madame Valerian, I do appreciate your … generosity but Christine is my daughter. She may not be what you want.”

“Madame, from one mother to another. Do we not treasure our only child? It’s from our body that the child came to this world.” Madame Griy gripped her hands together in prayer. “We did it out of love. And our love extent to giving them the best. You are doing your best to make her the best. I am also trying to do that.”

“You are not her mother.” Madame Giry laid out in simple words.

“Yes, I am not but I would like to be her Guardian. I like to be a part of her life.” Madame Valerian made it simpler.”

The process to be a Guardian was simple; you shake your hand and kiss the child. One day, Madame Valerian for her wish and it was that momentous day, the piano played this tune.

LA MUSICA

Dal mio Permesso amato a voi ne vegno,
incliti eroi, sangue gentil de' regi,
Di cui narra la fama eccelsi pregi,
Né giunge al ver, perch'è tropp'alto il segno.

Io la Musica son, ch'ai dolci accenti
So far tranquillo ogni turbato core,
Et or di nobil ira et or d'amore
Poss'infiammar le più gelate menti.

Io su cetera d'or cantando soglio
Mortal orecchio lusingar talora;
E in questa guisa all'armonia sonora
Della lira del ciel più l'alme invoglio.

Quinci a dirvi d'Orfeo desio mi sprona,
D'Orfeo che trasse al suo cantar le fere,
E servo fé l'Inferno a sue preghiere,
Gloria immortal di Pindo e d'Elicona.

Or mentre i canti alterno, or lieti or mesti,
Non si mova augellin fra queste piante,
Ne s'oda in queste rive onda sonante,
Et ogni auretta in suo cammin s'arresti.

Claudio Monteverdi Mantua, Italy, c1607 L' Orfeo Libretto

Music
From my beloved Permessus I come to you,
illustrious heroes, noble scions of kings,
whose glorious deeds Fame relates,
though falling short of the truth, since the target is too high.

I am Music, who in sweet accents
can calm each troubled heart,
and now with noble anger, now with love,
can kindle the most frigid minds.

Singing to a golden lyre, I am wont
sometimes to charm mortal ears;
and in this way inspire souls with a longing
for the sonorous harmony of heaven's lyre.

Hence desire spurs me to tell you of Orpheus,
the immortal glory of Pindus and Helicon,
Orpheus who drew wild beasts to him by his singing,
and who subjugated Hades by his entreaties.

Now while I alternate my songs, now happy, now sad,
let no small bird stir among these trees,
no noisy wave be heard on these river?banks,
and let each little breeze halt in its course.

Like the first opera pieces to be enjoyed then, Christine found acceptance in her life then. She was fifteen then.  It was not her only joy then.