The Opera House Chapter 26 to 28

26.

“Pay me, Monsieur.” The lady displayed her right palm. The man took it and laid his kiss on it.

“It’s paid.” The man reached for the lady but she drew away. He stood up from the grass covered ground and frowned at her.

“Why, Christine? I thought you will be happy to see me? It’s me Raoul.” The man turned to look at the pond that he once painted many times over.

“Yes, I am ever glad to see you but if you are to treat me like a whore, then pay me first.” Christine sat up and then reached for the buttons on her blouse. She buttoned it up before looking at him.

“I am a lady and will like to be shown one. Don’t come to me and pawed me like an animal in heat. I will not stand for it.”  Christine pulled her legs up and covered it with her skirt. “You are not the man I used to ….know.”

“Know? Christine, we were in love before I left for the Academy. And I have returned to find you so …cold and distant.” Raoul looked at her. “What did happen in the year that I was gone? Was there another one?”

Christine looked away from him towards the pond. Yes, she has changed. She had become a woman. A free spirited one.

“Maybe I should call myself Carmen.” Christine muttered out.

“And I will be Jose.” Raoul smiled trying to win back her love.

“No, Jose was a fool. He killed her for believing the love that was never there. He should have stayed with his fiancé.” Christine replied.

“So was Faust not be with the Devil but it’s ordained in their life.” Raoul defended the fate of those two. “Mine was to be with you. Why have you changed?”

Christine approached the pond and stood there at the edge. Raoul joined her but he stood at her side. He made no move to touch her but his stare was with her to the pond.

“We were happier then. Why did….”

“Was there others, Raoul? I sensed that in you.” Christine asked.

“Others? Sensed? Did I carry any other smell on me?” Raoul grabbed the hem of his tunic to smell. “I smell only myself.”

Christine moved away a few steps and then looked at Raoul.

“I do…like you. I was elated that you were coming back but when you did, I don’t know why but I needed to start again with you. I am sorry, Raoul.” Christine spoke up. “I need time. I need to achieve my dream to be the singer. The new Opera Singer. The upcoming Diva.”

“If it’s time and space you need, I will respect that.” Raoul replied. “If it’s your desire to be the Diva then I shall ….respect that.”

With that Raoul took his leave of her. Christine turned to look at the man she thought she loved once more. Maybe then but somehow in her, her new love was the Opera House. She will be the Diva and changed her life forever.

So did Emil while he sat there in the dim light reading the musical notes that he took from the pianist table. He had seen the scribbled over chords to make the music more distinct and to suit the singer. He saw the chords to be sung by the older one, and then the younger one. He likes the younger one. He recalled her name was Christine.

She may seem older than him but with him, he has lost the count of time. He lived his days and nights as they come with no regard to when he will need to count the dates. He knew he was older then for he was taller and the body grown in size. He still could not read but his understanding of the tones was more acute. He does not know how to read the words that were written on the paper but he knew the sounds that it made. He then related the sounds to the chords.

Emil used his ears to manage the sounds that he wanted to hear.

Emil then took up the notes and scribbled in his own.

The scribbled notes then became the new score.

Not all knew of it but Jean Valeria stopped his fingers from tapping the keys. His sudden stop disrupted the others and the Conductor signalled the symphony to cease playing.

“Monsieur Valeria, why have you stop playing?” The Conductor held his respect for the elderly pianist. He has accommodated the other to get the best sounds out of the singer. His notes amended to cater to both the pianist and singer.

“Well, are you okay? Can we continue?” Jean Valeria heard the Conductor and nodded. He then told the Conductor on some suggested changes.

“It will give more prominence to the Diva’s voice.” The Conductor looked at the new changes in the notes and nodded.

It worked and the symphony was elated to rehearsal more on the new approach.

Madame Carlotta felt more at ease and went with the changes but she did not notice the emergence of Christine then. The younger singer was also seen to be more prominent then but Christine was to play second fiddle.

27.

Christine found the package on her table inside her room that evening three days to the opening. The rehearsal was over that day but it ended on a gloomy mode. The dancers were the first to hear and they told the others.

“The opening night tickets are slow in sales. The Parisians are not keen on the Diva. They have heard of her before and without the lure of the Phantom, the Opera House is no different from the others.”

“We have lost our Diva.”

Those words soon reached the reigning Diva and she was upset. She took to the Ritz to rest hence the rehearsal ended up earlier. She was also upset the Comte had not come to see her rehearse and ignore her invitations. Everyone knew then for the Diva was lamenting on it at every occasion she had.

The final nail was the dropped in the ticket sales.

“Fuck the show. And the Comte.” That was what the Diva said before she stormed off.

Christine looked at the package. It was light in the weight and yet it was bigger than her hands. She shook it and heard the tinkering sound.

 “Well, it won’t be a red apple.” Christine muttered to herself. She thought it may be Raoul’s gift to rekindle their love but she was not tempted to rush into it. It was funny how love sometime works. Some weeks ago she was keen to see him come back and when he told she was elated but when she met him, she felt as if she was facing some stranger. She could not find herself to say the words she once mentioned but did hug him. She felt his hands and then the feeling to get away. She however took his invitation to meet at the pond but when the meeting went amorous in nature, she got turned off.

And then the gift was there. Would it change her feelings? Christine then saw her mother have approached her.

“A gift? Would you not open it?” Madame Giry looked at her daughter. “It did not come from me.”

That was an uncalled call but their relationship been stormy for some days then. Christine looked at her mother. She smiled and then replaced the package on the table.

“It’s not important.” Christine then asked of her mother. “I am so sorry for my earlier behaviours. You are old enough to do whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Christine.” Both mother and daughter hugged each other without knowing they were watched by Lenier. He smiled from his peeking spot behind the wall, and then left the two together. He has a bigger task to do. The rumours reached him and he needed to make some remedies for it. He climbed the steps to reach the ramparts at the roof. He stood there and waited. He could find the boy up here but the other will find him.

Soon then Emil appeared.

“Boy, you have a new task.” Lenier told the boy. He had given the boy then an overall with the belt that hung his tools needed for the work. The boy carried a bag over his back containing the needed supplies for the task.

“Meet at the steps tonight.” That was all Lenier told the boy.

It was late evening when Christine looked at the gift on her table. She reached for it and then slowly unwrap it open. It was badly wrapped but the gift was inside. It was a monkey playing the drum toy. The toy have a key behind it which when wind up will get the monkey to play the drum. The tune was unknown but it resembled some marching bands music. The set was old and looked rusted.

“I have not seen one like that for a long time.” Christine looked to see her mother there. “Who gave you that?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s from some admirer.” Christine smiled. She had received gifts before from the admirers in the form of flowers or sweets but never a monkey. She thought it could be from Raoul as his way of reliving their love. She recalled their better times but his gifts were mostly dinner and the smooches after it. He had never gave her any gifts.

“So you did not come from Raoul.” Christine spoke to the toy. She then hummed to herself the chorus of Carmen.

Avec la garde montante,
nous arrivons, nous voilà.
Sonne, trompette éclatante !
Taratata, taratata !
Nous marchons la tête haute
comme de petits soldats,
marquant sans faire de faute,
une, deux, marquant le pas.
Les épaules en arrière
et la poitrine en dehors,
les bras de cette manière
tombant tout le long du corps.
Avec la garde montante, etc.

Maybe their love will rekindle.

Christine smiled.

28.

Raoul lowered his fork onto the dinner plate while his brother lament on his failure at the Academy. That was their first dinner since he returned.

“Raoul, I got the informal report from the Commandant. You were expelled for discipline issues and that include your flirting affair with his daughter. Do you know how many officers have been expelled by her behaviour? Five and you were the last one.”

“So I fucked her and her father tried to have me killed in the last exercise.” Roaul replied. “Did he miss that out? I bludgeon the Major for trying to kill me.”

“You did what…” The Comte sighed. “The Major and myself went back a long way. Why …Never mind. I will be direct. Why are you back here?”

“Why should I not be back?” Raoul asked. He glared at his brother. “Did you send me there so I could be send on to somewhere further or maybe die there? Was that your intention? Why?”

“So many questions from you, brother. I was talking about your Academy expulsion. So now what do you want to do.”

“The family have business I can take care of…” Raoul was cut off.

“The family held not anymore of the business. I sold them or traded them to keep the food on our table. Raoul, my dear brother, we are as poor as the mice except for the name and the clothes on our back.” The Comte told him. “You were to be an officer and earned your keep there but you have to come back here.”

“To be with your slut..” The Comte spat those words.

“You will not insult Christine She is my…” Raoul displated his anger but his brother was ahead.

“Shout not at me, Raoul de Chagny. I am still your brother and in rank. Respect me or leave the family.”

Raoul looked to his brother and then stormed off. He did not leave but returned to his room at the manor. He was angry then with his family and at everyone including Christine. He came back expecting love to be spurned by all. He wished he was on the roads then but he knew that he would not survive. He had no coins to live on his own. He sat there in his room and then his mind started working,

He will sell out his brother.

He was not stupid not to know of his brother smuggling activities. He can always get his brother to pay for the insult that night. He will speak to the one he knew have handling the investigation.

Chief Inspector Joseph Bouquet.

A knock on the room door shook him off his dream. The servant brought him an invitation from the Diva herself.

“Thank you for seeing me at such late hours.” The Diva greeted the young Viscomte at her suite in the Ritz. The lady was dressed in the peignoir there covered decently by the satin gown. The lady had prepared for the occasion the wine that will enhance the evening atmosphere.

“I think it was a wrong time for me to meet you.” Raoul stood near the doorway staring at the lady. He was uncomfortable and it was his anger that made him took the invitation. He had heard of the lady’s reputation as a seductress and a black widow as next. She does not take their lives but their wealth and dignity. She was also her brother’s lover or one of his.

“You may need to rest with the rehearsals for the play. I best be leaving.” Raoul turned to leave but the lady stopped him.

“I hear you like Christine. Do you want her to sing as lead for my play?” The lady laid the choice to Raoul. “I can be persuaded.”

“Forget Christine.” Raoul muttered out. “She does not matter to me. I want though is payment in Francs or whatever. I want it now.”

“The Viscomte in need of money? I am surprised. What did your brother do to you? Did he strike your name out of the DeChagny fortune?” The lady laughed.

“Forget it. I am leaving.” Raoul took hold of the door knob but the lady was persuasive.

“I can give you your payment if you do something for me.” Raoul turned to look at the lady. She had disrobed the gown and stood there with her peignoir.

“Are you worth it? I will pay you for the performance. Be my Diva tonight.”

Across the city of lights, Chief Inspector Buquet sat at his desk pondering over the stack of reports that he had yet to file. He had read those reports and all of it was related to the smuggling activities on the river. He had listed down the names of people that were suspects. They ranged from the dignitaries to the low level scums but a few names stayed in his mind.

Comte DeChagny; ex soldier and wealthy in the funds.

Armand Moncharmin; trader from his own backyard who left the colonies and created a reputation as the arms dealer.

Firmin Richard; a colonist and revolutionary for the independence of Haiti.

“Chief Inspector, the report is here. The Opera House had changed hands to Firmin and Associates.”

“So our new scent will give us the new trail. Hopefully we will find the closure to our case. Please pray with me that the Opera House will be our God sent gift.”

The Opera House Chapter 25

25.

Firmin inked the document of ownership to the applause of the others gathered there at the Gentlemen’s Club. He rolled the ink swatter over the signature before handing it to attorney that was to witness the signing.

“Bravo!” Armand called out. “The deed done and the celebration will be underway.”

The group of five gentlemen then reached for their glasses to toast the transfer on the Opera House while they sat at the private room. The attorney then stood up and asked to be excused.

“Monsieur Debierne, Monsieur Coligny. If I may advised you once more. The funds for the Opera House will be transferred to your trustee once we have filed in this deed to the Courts.” The attorney then bowed to the four gentlemen and took his leave.

“And to the Opera House. May it perform forever.” Coligny then high spirited made the toast which the other three gentlemen raised their glasses. “I ….”

“I am ever in favoured of the Opera House for my leisure times.” The voice was from the doorway and in step the Comte. He was followed by his brother the Viscomte. The four gentlemen taken aback by the intrusion but as gentlemen they cordially invited him to the table. Two more glasses were served and the wine poured.

“I was passing by and saw all of you. I did meet the attorney outside. Monsieur DeMille is my good friend and had acted for me on several matters.” The Comte started off the awkward meeting. “Here’s to the new owners.”

Six glasses were raised and the contents sipped but two of them in distaste. It was Firmin who drew first blood.

“Yes, we are proud to own it. I am not surprised that you may know Monsieur DeMille for he came to us to offer his services when we were to look for one then. I am sure Paris is a smaller city than most for everyone knows …”

“Everything? No Monsieur Firmin. Only the privilege like myself perhaps. It came with the honour and rank of the elite.” The Comte cut in. He then changed the subject matter to the previous owners.

“Monsieur Debieme, you are a wealthy man now. Perhaps you would want to consider some sound investment in the business of shipping.” The Comte was blunt to his question.

“Comte, I am ever pleased with my …wealth but I think I will retire with it now. I am old and soon to see my creator. Let me partake in leisure with my last years.” The Colonel smiled at the Comte. “Monsieur Firmin with the bigger chest may be of your preference than me.”

All the six gentlemen laughed and then the two previous owners stood up to leave but the Comte stopped them.

“Please, gentlemen. Stay for one more question. My brother Raoul is back and ever eager to see the Opera House in performance. You have not done any for two months now with your acquisition and I hear major maintenance. Perhaps a show could be soon.”

“Yes, there will be one soon. Our unusual absence was due to the rehearsal of the play by the Diva Carlotta and with her perfection is a requisite. We shall be opening next week and it will be playing Carmen.” Firmin cut in.

“I am glad for then we may once hear the terrors of the Phantom.” The Comte pissed on the opening play. “I am sure the Carmen like the Phantom will be equally stirring.”

“The Phantom?” Monsieur Coligny intervened. “The Phantom had ceased to exist for some weeks now. In fact there are no such Phantom but the noise and some displaced boarding that we have replaced  with the last culprit, a former staff of ours in the pay of others to spread rumours.”

“Is it? I am afraid I missed that out.” The Comte smiled. “Well good riddance to bad omens and happier ones to come.”

“Viscomte Raoul, I am glad that you are back. Perhaps you may not be in the know but Christine is the second singer to the Diva.” Monsieur Coligny dug in the spike at the younger man. The Comte expression turned grim but the Viscomte was red in embarrassment.

“I was not informed. Thank you for telling me this. I will see her later.” The Viscomte looked for an excuse to leave then and was assisted by Monsieur Coligny who offered him their ride with Monsieur Debieme. The three gentlemen left leaving the other three seated there.

“Comte, I am surprised that you are here. And what may I asked was your intention to speak of the Phantom? We all know that the Phantom was a fake and created to gather audience to the so haunted House.” Monsieur Firmin took his direct approach.

“Two questions for me. One I was entertaining my brother on his premature return to Paris, and your next question, the Phantom may be unreal to you but to us in Paris he is real. He watches over the House as well as the catacombs. Surely your acquisition will rouse my interest and as a Parisian I know my city. The catacombs have been a smuggler route for years. If you are thinking of using it without my knowledge and ….consent, then you are ….doomed to sink in it.”

“Surely, Comte. We have never hidden anything from you. We are business associates. We never hid our intentions to acquire the Opera House. We intended to use it for our front in Paris and of course with your approval.” Monsieur Firmin replied. “We have no idea that there was …..We knew of the catacombs but of its use, we were not informed.”

“Then stay out of it.” The Comte stood up. “Good day to you, gentlemen.”

With that the Comte took his leave but Monsieur Armand was upset

“Did you see the smug on his face? He was taking us for fools.” Armand tossed the glass to the wall. “I shall have …”

“You will do nothing to him. …. Until we conclude the guns.”

Tweet...tweet....Yes, I am back 3/2/2018 ( Updated )

Need I say more?

“They always tell you to do what you love. But they forget to add that writing doesn't pay by the hour.” 
― Joyce Rachelle

I will add to that.

"If you place love into your writing then the payment is a longing to continue on. Like in love."

The Opera House Part 21 to 24

Book of Desire and Music

21.

CARMEN L'amour est un oiseau rebelle que nul ne peut apprivoiser, et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle, s'il lui convient de refuser. Rien n'y fait, menace ou prière, l'un parle bien, l'autre se tait ; et c'est l'autre que je préfère : il n'a rien dit, mais il me plaît. L'amour ! etc.

CARMEN Love is a rebellious bird that no one can tame, and it's quite useless to call him if it suits him refuse. Nothing moves him, neither threat nor plea, one man speaks freely, the other keeps mum; and it's the other one I prefer: he's said nothing, but I like him. Love! et

“I can’t do it.” Christine sighed then while the mentor of her’ held his fingers from tapping at the piano. Madame Valerian who was seated near Christine approached her. She held the younger singer into her arms. 

“It’s okay, my dear. You can take a rest now.” Christine heeded her mentor’s partner request. She walked to the seating nearby and slumped there. Madame Valerian then approached her partner on the piano. 

“Jean, it’s late already. She had been at it for two hours now. We got to let her rest.” The Madame then sat herself at the piano seat. Jean was quiet with his eyes on the piano keys.

“She is not our Margot. We got to accept that. Even if Margot is here, we cannot punish her if she is not ready.” 

“No, my dear. Christine is not ready to be our envisioned Margot but she sound better than the so called Diva. I just need to hone her vocals to certain decibels and she will be ready.” Jean looked at the sleeping singer at the seating. “We saw the gem in her when we took her on. We agree to train her and we shall.”

“Let us rest for now.” 

Rest was what Emil did at the upper ramparts that lined the area beneath the roofing. He was sent there to repair the leakages and given his need to unseen, he only work at after dark. He was comfortable working in the dim light with his days spent in the catacombs. He does not fear the darker beings there if they ever do. 

Emil looked at the moonlight that stole through the cracks in the roofing. He then took up the strips of paper with the layer of tar on it. He then plastered it to stop the leak. There were places where he had patched before but needed more patching. One of the consolations of working during the dark was the silence. He could then open his mind to the thoughts of his mother and her voice on the music that he loved to hear. It was a piece from Carmen that le loved. Whenever he hears that chorus, Emil will try to stand upright and marched like the little soldiers that he arranged on the floor. 

CHŒUR DES GAMINS

Avec la garde montante,

nous arrivons, nous voilà.

Sonne, trompette éclatante !

Taratata, taratata !

Nous marchons la tête haute

comme de petits soldats,

marquant sans faire de faute,

une, deux, marquant le pas.

Les épaules en arrière

et la poitrine en dehors,

les bras de cette manière

tombant tout le long du corps.

Avec la garde montante, etc.

CHORUS OF STREET BOYS

Right beside the relief guard,

here we come, here we are!

Blow out, loud trumpet!

Taratata, taratata!

We march with head erect

like little soldiers,

keeping time with no mistakes -

one, two - keeping step.

Shoulders back

and chest well out,

arms this way

straight down beside the body.

Right beside the relief guard, etc. 

At that moment, Lenier closed the door to the unit he considered as his personal chamber. He saw the lady standing there by the only outlet to the outside. The moon light shrouded the standing figure giving it a silvery from enhanced by the white sleeping gown. 

“You send Emil to his works.” It was not a question by Madame Giry but a statement. “I am happy that he is out to work for it will do him good to find something useful to do.” 

Lenier nodded and then approached the wash basin prepared for him by the lady. That was one of the privileges that he had not when he was alone. Ever since he had so called offer sanctuary to the deformed boy, he had the personal company of the lady. She had done many things that a lady would had done; changing his linens and dusting his shelves but she stopped at her personal intrusion on her body. He had not forced himself on her for he wanted her for her love and not for lust. 

“He is fixing the leakages.” Lenier removed his tunic and exposing his scarred body. He took up the cloth there to wipe the grime there. It felt good to be clean after a hard day’s work. The owners have insisted on the cleaning works. 

“I will not have the new owners woe to me on their displeasure of the property after it’s handed over. Words like that will be among the others in the gentlemen circle.” Coligny told Lenier. He then looked at Debeninne. “If you may, Colonel. Please order your officer or was it a non-commissioned officer.” 

Lenier felt the slight on his personality then to be called a non-commissioned officer. He had performed his best for the Legion and got a medal for it. It was his personal records that prevented him to improve his rank; attacking a senior officer was one. He did it twice to protect the Colonel. 

“Are you ready for bed?” Lenier felt the arms around him but he pulled them apart. He picked up a new tunic from the stacked pile near the wash basin. 

“Why do you not want me?” The lady asked of him. “I thought you…”

“I do, my ….dear but I am not one to rush things through.” Lenier turned to the lady. “I am tired.”

With that, Lenier approached the bedding. He motioned her to lie on it while he may need some time to think.

“What ails you, Lenier?” 

“It’s the House. I feared it may need more than repairs. The structure is under pressure from the nearby works and the foundation beneath us is unstable. I knew of these as I was with the engineers that construct the structures in Algeria. We were taught to build in the shifting sands.”

“So fix it. Ask the owners. The new ones. They need to know and they will pay.” Madame Giry spoke out. “They need a …”

“More collections. As soon as the Phantom tales lay dying, the collections dwindled. We are losing out to the newer houses.”

“The Phantom? Is it real? I heard of the accidents; the falling pieces, the missing musician equipment, and the howlings. Are they true?”

“Does the tree not grow leaves? Yes, the Phantom is real. As real as our love. Together and yet apart.” The lady reached for her lover. 

“Then shall we stay together while we could? Make me feel like a woman once more. ” The lady pleaded with the other. Lenier was to resist but the lady was ever persuasive. 

22. 

Madame Carlotta stood there nude as she was on the day of her birth while the water rinsed off her body from the bath she had taken. It was good for her to take one every morning for it will cleaned her body of the previous night events. She was not short of companions on her bedding and husbands that gave up on her. She stepped out of the six feet in length with a width of three feet and depth of two feet but that was not the beauty of it. The tub was gold coated. 

Carlotta loved the shade of gold. 

And more when it was blocks of it. 

“Carlotta, are you ready for another round?” The diva looked to the bedding where the lover of the night lying there. He was sprouting a sizeable dimension but the lady was past her need for it. 

“No, I am waiting for breakfast.” The lady put on the dressing gown and looked at the morning spread. “I told them no milk. I had my share of milky proteins.” 

Soon after the meal, properly dressed, the Diva raised her question to the companion that shared her bedding then 

“Phillipe darling, why did you ask for Christine to be placed as my back up chorus?” The companion sat there held the cup that he was to drink. 

“I am the Diva, darling.” The Diva continued on and she was not stopping yet. Her tone raised two decibels. “Who is Christine to you?” 

“Christine is my brother’s current girl. And he has been discharged from the Academy. He is coming back.” The Comte continued on with his drink. He was not faithful to whom he chose to share his bedding and the Diva offer was too great to resist. It was not every evening that he gets a Diva to bed and more rare to get one to give you a good blow. He did return the favour with an orgasm licking but that was last night. 

“So young brother is coming back and you arrange the girl to sing? You are so stupid.” Carlotta snapped back. She was not one to hold back when people with better rankings than the Comte had patronised her before. 

“I think my …” The Comte took up the napkin to dab at his lips but the Diva was not finished yet. 

“You know what was on my mind? Phillipe, you are not doing it for the brother of yours. You were doing it for yourself. You want to fuck your own brother’s girl.” 

The Comte sat there momentarily staring at the Diva soak the scone with the fruit jam. He was thinking then of his brother. He loved him but there was a rivalry between them since young. He was going after what his brother was trying to own. 

“I be gong now.” The Comte stood up but the Diva was not done. 

“Let me give you a passage to remember for our night. It’s from Pagliacci. 

Nedda(Italian)

Che m’ami?

Hai tempo a ridirmelo

Stasera, se il brami

Facendo le smorfie

Colà sulla scena. 

Nedda

That you love me?

You will have time to tell me that

tonight, if you so wish,

while you perform your tricks

there on the stage. 

“Sorry, darling. I won’t be playing tricks with you tonight. I am on the main stage with some other clown.” The Comte replied and then left. He was in no hurry for no one rushed him. He boarded the carriage there and soon was on his way to the river docks. The meeting was nit at the docks but on the barge on the river. 

“Champagne, Comte.” The gentleman there offered the Comte who was seated across him on small table laid on the deck of the barge. The spread there was minimal if one considered a bottle of champagne and two tall glasses there. Plus the best that French could offer for cheese. 

“I know it’s a simple meal here.” The Comte heard the other and took his seat. 

“So what is the occasion, Chief Inspector Buquet? How may I help you?” The Comte took the drink offered. “How did you know I was here?” 

“Well, you know how the dock yard rumours run. They travelled down the River Seine and soon reached my office. As we heard you are buying some business here.” The Chief Inspector took on the cue to explain his presence. “We are just here to protect your investment. You know some of these business have bad reputation and we do not want you to be tarnish by it.” 

“Merci, Chief Inspector. I am indebted to you.” The Comte did nod with his head. “But I am ever careful with my investment.” 

“That is good. Pardone me for taking your champagne without advising you. I believed your guests are here.” The Chief Inspector stood up when he saw two gentlemen disembarking at the carriage on the dock. “I must be going,” 

“And I shall not hold you.” The Comte stood up and did a bow to the other. “Good day, Chief Inspector.” 

The inspector took the plank toward the dock and did a courteous nod to the new arrival. 

“Comte, we thank you for the invitation. Did we interrupt your other meeting?” It was Firmin who asked the other. He had arrived with Armand and they took their seats when motioned by the host. 

“Are we on track, gentlemen?” The Comte dropped all pretentious expression and went into the matter. “The sample is here for your review.” 

Two crews of the barge carried a rectangle case to the table. They placed it on the deck next to the table. The Comte leaned down to open the cover. Both the other gentlemen placed a smile on their faces. 

“The Maxim machine gun. English design. Loads the .303 calibre and recoil operated. It fires five hundred over round per minute. For your gold, fifty of these will be delivered to your port in the colonial states.” The Comte then covered the case cover. 

“It’s the question of the guns we are here, Comte. It’s the payment in full upon shipment.” Armand brought the issue up. “We know you are committed to the series of acquisition. You requested that we buy the Opera House to complete the …” 

“The Opera House? I have already explained to you the plans of the acquisitions. I need a safe passage and then the catacombs present it.” The Comte explained. 

“So you have, Comte but the diversion of part of our funds to acquire the House have left us with a dent in the payment to you.” Firmin replied. “And you asked for full payment on shipment? We need to….” 

“Gentlemen, I am a busy person. We either agree or disagree.” The Comte looked away to the river. “I have other buyers. They will pay me equal or more.” 

“Comte, may I remind you of our deal?” Armand rose to his feet but he was held back by his other partner. 

“Pardon my friend, Comte. We will honour our deal as you would. We will take possession upon full payment as agreed.” Firmin pulled his partner to leave the barge. Once they were back on board the carriage, Armand demanded an apology from his partner. 

“I do apologies but please do not weigh on me the issue. If we failed to acquire the guns, we are both dead men.” Firmin explained. “The Opera House is a small hindrance but it will serve us as well. No one really knows the full extent of the catacombs and we can use the Opera House as the staging area.” 

“What if we were to meet the Comte’s men if he was to ship by there?” Armand asked. 

“We do like what our forefathers did. We take it for ourselves like Captain Kidd.” Firmin replied. “Who could he complained to? The authorities? I doubt so.” 

“I can agree. After all, we hold enough guns then,” 

The Comte stared at the departing carriage with his thoughts on the words spoken earlier. 

“They cannot be trusted. I will plan my own to that they die like lovers.” The Comte muttered to himself. His mind then was the dying moments of the play Romeo and Juliet. 

ROMEO

Neither tears nor entreaty,

nothing, nothing can soften them!

To the gates of heaven,

Juliet, to the gates of heaven and to die!

JULIET

To die! Ah, fever bewilders you!

What delirium seizes upon you?

My beloved, come to your senses!

ROMEO

Alas!

I thought you dead and I drank this poison! 

ROMÉO

Ni larmes, ni prière,

Rien, rien ne peut les attendrir !

À la porte des cieux !

Juliette, à la porte des cieux ! et mourir !

JULIETTE

Mourir ! Ah ! la fièvre t’égare !

De toi quel délire s’empare ?

Mon bien-aimé, rappelle ta raison !

ROMÉO

Hélas !

Je te croyais morte et j’ai bu ce poison ! 

“Bonsoir, gentlemen.” The Comte raised his glass. “May you have a better life in your next life.” 

23. 

ALL (to Don José)

Take to the country with us,

come with us into the mountains,

come with us and you'll take to it there

when you see, away over there,

how fine is the wandering life;

the whole world your domain,

your own free will for law!

And above all that intoxicating thing:

Freedom! Freedom!

The open sky, the wandering life,

the whole wide world your domain;

your own free will for law,

and above all that intoxicating thing:

Freedom! Freedom! 

Christine was elated on receiving the letter that Raoul was on his way home. He was taking a tour before he returned. It will be soon when the play will start. Her euphoria was halted by the call to practise and she did it well. So much better that the mentor of hers praised her loudly. 

“Viola! You got it.” Jean the pianist applauded her but not the Diva who stormed off the stage on the excuse she was unwell. The Diva departure was not sighted by the others for everyone was cheering the younger singer. 

“You did well!” That accolade came from the Conductor. 

It was rare but Madame Giry stepped up to congratulates her daughter but the other took the hug casually and then walked away to re-join the other dancers. The Madame was slighted by her daughter move and left for her solace with the new companion of hers. 

“I am sure Christine needed some time to …understand our relationship.” Lenier leaned down to kiss the Madame on the left side of the head. “She is not used …” 

“You protect her too well, Lenier. Like….a real father would be.” The Madame held her face down on her hands and tears flowed. 

“He…..No, it was not his fault but she could not be made to understand it. She had once asked of him but that was years ago. And now you are here, she may…” The Madame shook her head and then cried out. “Why? Why must he die before he could let his daughter see him?” 

Lenier held the lady he loved close to his chest. He had no words to console her then but his eyes averted to the doorway and saw the Madame’s daughter there. He pulled away and then tapped the Madame’s left shoulder. 

“Christine is here.” 

“Hello, mother.” Christine saw the man leaving them alone. It was comforting then for she wanted to be with her mother. 

“Mother, I miss you.” Christine reached out with her hand to the lady she considered her mother. “I know you are …I did not mean to push you away then. I was in joy and also in pain.” 

The mother of the child looked at her and Christine voiced out. 

“Mother, why did you replace father ….my father with him. The man may have offered us sanctuary but why do you have to share his bed? I ..I am not telling you how to lead your life but …Mother, you…” 

The mother tried to silence the daughter but the later was adamant on spilling her emotions out. Christine held out her right finger to the mother’s lips. 

“You are kind and generous. You saved a boy from a … beastly life, and ….allowed me to sing.” Christine continued on. “You done wonder with me but I need to know why you fell for that man? It’s not that I dislike him but he…” 

“He is old like me. He may be your father’s age. He had done so much for us. Why can’t he…” 

“You don’t understand. You won’t ever.” Christine left her mother there. She felt then her mother had spoiled her joy. She went to look for her mentor and the caretaker. 

“Christine, do you know the tale behind Carmen?” Jean Valerian looked to the singer that he had nurtured for some time then. 

“Carmen was a lady with her own ideas and values. True, she was portray a gypsy,; renowned for their wild streaks but maybe it was the life Carmen wanted. She needed no man to be protected, to love, to share her life but she lived it to the fullest. It was Don Jose who the opposite of her; wanting her love, doing silly things for her, and even joining the bandits but in the end, he was not hers to want.” 

“Jose did not kill her. She died in his arms because she wanted to end it all. Life then was restricting her freedom and she let herself be killed. She walked into his knife and died then. She held no regrets but Jose did. He was the weakling here.” 

“If you want to sing like Carmen, you have to be free spirited and hold no need for love.” 

“You must be Christine Daaé, the diva to be. You must desire only that. If you must make a deal with the Devil, let it be. For you are to be the Diva.” The pianist looked at Christine. “Despair no more, rejoice no less, for the world awaits you as the next Diva.” 

Christine had then dried her tears and thanked her mentor. She strolled off to re-join the others but the pianist was confronted by his lover. 

“Old man, what did you do to her? You may have just…” Jean Valerian looked to his lover and stopped her. 

“No, I merely opened her view to the real world of being the Diva. She cannot be restraint now. She need to be free to perform.” 

And Christine performed better then. 

It was to many but not one who held the gift of listening with perfection on the tones. 

24. 

Emil sat there on the dark corner of the rampart listening to the ladies rehearsing on the stage. He cringed on the various levels of tones that came from the different singers. He could tell the ones that were suited to be named as singer and there were only two. 

One was older but her vocals were good. She hit the pitch required to bring out the emotions to the chords while the second was younger. She sounded good too and was improving by the days of practicing then. They are all good but they lacked the final pitch that will define them above the others. 

One had yet to learn it, and the other had yet to reach it. 

Not till then when he heard the singing that afternoon. It was the younger one, and she was hitting the pitches that were never reached before. Emil sat there transfixed by her voice and his memories reverted to his mother once more. 

“Mother…you could…do that too.” Emil stammered out. Then he heard the call to stop. 

“You are not doing it right.” Emil looked over the rampart and down to the stage. The figures were small like the toy soldiers that he held in his fingers but the voices could be heard there. 

“You are supposed to hit the chords at minus-C and then slowly tapered off.” Jean Valerian the pianist roared out his frustration. “How many times do I need to tell you?” 

Emil saw Christine standing by the piano holding the leaf of music sheets with her trembling left hand. She was almost in tears then. It was her ninth attempt to do the line and she still failed. It was no better when the other voice was added to the symphony of pain by the lady Diva herself. 

“She can’t do it. She may had hit the notes on some but overall, she deserved to be in the chorus line.” The Diva then resting at the far end of the stage approached the Conductor. 

“Jean can attest to it.” The Conductor looked at the Diva and then nodded. He was after all a player in the symphony when it came to the Diva’s attention. Or non if he was to disagreed. 

“So Mr, Valeries, please….” The Diva was cut off by the Madame Valerian. 

“It’s Valerian and it’s time for lunch now.” The Madame clapped her hands together to signal that lunch was to be served. “Madame Diva, your lunch is at the Dressing Room. I best hurry before it gets cold.” 

“Or worse, taken by the rodents.” On the mentioned of the rodents the Diva went into a berserk mood and demanded that she be taken to the Ritz for her meal. 

“You may all continue without me this afternoon.” The Diva stormed off the stage leaving everyone amused at her antic but hidden from her view their snigger. 

Christine meanwhile looked at her mentor for some consolation but the older musician decided to leave for his lunch. It was the Madame who stepped forth to console her. 

“Don’t be sad. Jean care for you. He just wanted you to be the Diva that he had hoped of our daughter.” 

“I know, Madame. You told me many times but I still feel as if I am not worth it.” 

“And evrry Diva felt the same on their bad performing days but they will recover for the next performance. You must. You must always free yourself of the misgivings and the past. Be like Carmen. She is a free spirit.” Madame Valerian smiled. “Now take your lunch and be ready for the afternoon session.” 

Emil heard the word spoken as his mother once told him. They are no victory in life but a series of success that you will constantly achieved until your final hour then. For victory stands for an end but success will be ongoing for you. He held that in his mind that every day he will succeed in something. He sat there thinking of the chords that Christine was trying, It was not her voice but the accompaniment. 

Madame Valerian was right. 

Sometimes the performer can be seen to having a bad day when the symphony lets her down. The music score may be out of tune. Or the drums were out of sync. He replayed the tone that Christine was singing to, and then he gave it his singular thought to every note. He replayed it in his mind piece by piece and then the accompaniment of the different pieces. His fingers tapped the planks as if he was playing the tone. He was studying of the tone and width of the chords. 

It was his gift. 

“I …have much works to do.” Emil then ran along the rampart to descent to his sanctuary. 

Lenier saw the fleeting figure near the roofing and he sighed. The boy was getting bold to come out in the day when he told him that the late night was his work hours. He was standing at the empty stage then holding the broom to sweep the flooring. He felt regretful ever agreeing to the boy but the works that he could not do then was handle by the boy. His regret would be if the boy was ever discovered by someone or one day fell off the rampart, he will live to regret it. He knew his departing owners may forgive him but what of the new owners. Will they be as kind or take it as an excuse to remove him? Where could he go? He had spent his later years here soon after a series of jobs that he could not hold down except the Colonel offered him here. And he found solace with the woman when others before her had ignored or scorned him on his last coins. 

“I best be going to bring Emil his lunch.” Lenier heard the lady that bestowed him the gift of belonging and yet burdened him with the boy. He watched the lady carried the small basket to the corridor that led to the doorway and down the steps into the catacombs. She will not go far but leave the basket near the steps. She may wait there for him to come if he ever does. Or she may stay there to chase the rodents that will be tempted by the food. He never turn up but she knew that he was out there looking at her. She feared the darkness there and each time she does the chore, her prayers go out to the boy. Then she will leave before the others looked for her up there. 

While Madame Giry took the usual steps to the doorway, she could not help feeling the eyes on her from her lover. He was kind and humble but Christine will not still accept him. She felt the sadness inside her for that. She had brought it upon herself the task when she took pity on the boy, and she repaid his kindness with her care. It was not that of a wife but of a caretaker. Initially, she took to clean his room and his clothes, but she evaded his stare at her. She was afraid then not for Christine but herself. 

Could she love a man once more when the last one was so long ago? She felt that she was not the lady she was then and the desires were not there. Her then love was Christine but that soon faded when her daughter found more in the guardian than her. She felt the loss then and soon felt the need to be loved. 

Lenier was there then but it took her courage to take on the next level of their companionship. It was not for the gratitude he had offered but she needed the feeling of being held close. She finally chose him and to rekindle her desire.

Replies to some questions posed to me... 27/01/18

Thank you for some of you who asked me some questions of late in the comments, and thank you for doing so. I will reply here.

One, I am no techie besides a fan of sci-fi series and movies, so I can't really help you at which platform to use ie WordPress or Joomla. I used here is the blogger.com page and it have served me well for over five years now. 

Two, I do apologies for the spellings and grammars especially the earlier postings. English was not my first language, spoken or written ( we were taught English as a communicative subject in school hence the adverbs and tenses were secondary to the hellos and how's. ). But I learned the language the only the easy way; talking and understanding and correcting myself. As I did with other languages I picked along the the years. 

Three, I started off writing here as well as some other blogs as a fun time to interact with my daughter who was then in High School. She introduced me to the blog and being the dinosaur in the build and mind, I plodded on with clumsy steps. I started off with some small tales like the Male Tales, and then it went viral I guess. The fingers tapped and the laptops churned the data until the hard disk crashed ( a few since then ) but I did not stop. I enjoyed it especially after a long day of stress at work (my work does and its a relieve to be here. ) I used to type almost daily at least 3 to 4 hours, with the mind releasing the tale. I don't have one really planned but it just evolved as I write. I do try to stay at 25K for short tales or 50K for the novel length.

Four, yes, health took a beating the last few months and work belted onto the back like a slave master hence I was away from the keyboard. I have some other personal issues but its all being sorted. I gave myself time to step back and let loose my mind. Yes,. nothing creative came around, or it may had but only glimpses. I admit I do feel bad about it but I reckoned I needed time. 

And that time has to end soon. I will be writing this weekend like now. And from then I will complete my unfinished tales. So please stay with me. 

Cheers

Tweet...tweet m trying to be back .... 26/01/2018

Hello everyone.

No , I am not really back as yet for my health is really affected, and so are my creative nodes which are blocked for some reasons. I could tossed the hammer up it but I doubt Thor will appreciate the s*** I dragged out. Yes, I watched Thor; Ragnarok......I won't comment here for I am a reader of the comic and this one.... deserved to be kicked on the butt.

I have also been working my butt off some projects last quarter. The last quarter of 2017 have been fruitful in terms of works but the pain that came from it was unbearable at times. I wished there was Viagra version for work pumping. It would have helped instead of 'Deep Heat' for the flesh.

For that, with the fatigue, and I have been resting from the writing, and with no creative flow its has been frustrating. I tried to get back in the hours spent yield nothing as yet. I read some books for ideas and none came as yet, or none remained fixed for ideas.

But the day I do give up writing when I stopped breathing.

So I am pushing to pen whatever I have. It was something taught to me by another writer; never stop and if you have to, pen down a word or line to keep the works going. I guess I am doing it here now.

I have a long list of tales uncompleted and its my resolution to do it this year by the first quarter.

Now let me watch the latest version of Murder on the Oriental Express. I wonder how it fared against the 1974 version with Albert Finney as the lead.

Cheers

Tweet....tweet....4/1/2018....Pardon the missing weeks

Firstly my apologies for being away. I was unwell, and took a longer break than expected. I am still recovering and will soon be writing once more.

Meantime, here's to 2018 and a better year to come.

For my delayed start to the year, I hereby leave you some jokes below:

Its called Lessons on Life.

A pair of robbers took their heist on a bank in downtown. They gave them staff and guests there some management lessons not taught in learning institution.

First: Don't move or risk your life. The money belongs to the Bank but your life is yours. Lose the later and no one will pay you.
Lesson: This is called Changing the Conventional Way of Thinking.

Second:When a lady there posed herself seductively, the attentive robber approached her and told this; we are here for the money and not you. So stop tempting me to rape you.
Lesson: Be focus and act professionally. Do you what you are trained for. With enough money, you can have the ladies be more professional in their services.

Third: Soon after the robbery. the robbers who was college educated queried the partner who was older and lack the college degree on the amount they stole. The older one looked at the bags of money and then replied: don't be hasty. The Bank will soon advise us how much we took by the evening news.
Lesson: don;t waste your time on trivial works. Other will do it for you. That came with experience which is more than you could learn in school.

Fourth: At the Bank, the Manager was to report the amount of money lost. He added in fifty million to the lost amount which he had embezzled earlier.
Lesson: This is called Work to your benefit. Don't bang your head against the wall most times. Secure opportunities when chanced on.

Fifth: When the robbers heard the amount they took was substantial to what they actually had, they were upset. They risked their lives for the money but the bigger chunk was taken by the Manager by deceit.
Lesson; Its not all in the books the things you can learn but its what the book cannot teach you, you learned from the outside the book.

What does the above tells you on life lessons?
Its all in the way we think but stay focused to work on the important tasks to reap the benefits and not hold a narrow vision in your mind.

Till I fully recover, take care and have a nicer time here.

Cheers