Tears Of The Weeping Angel

Two Sisters

Narissa sighed as she and her older sister entered the foyer of the esteemed Paris Opera House.

"We're finally here," Emilie Louise said softly. "Let's go find the manager, or whoever runs this place."

Narissa nodded, and both of them made their way through the various corridors, asking for directions until they reached a heavy oak door with a brass plaque announcing the manager's office.

Emilie raised her hand and knocked.

After a moment, they heard the shuffling of feet and incoherent grumbling, the latter causing the two sisters to exchange bemused glances before the door finally opened by a man whose graying hair looked like he had combed his fingers through the strands too many times.

Monsieur Lefevre blinked at the sight of the two young women standing before him. "May I help you ladies?" he asked, his tone indicating that he would prefer that they leave than help them.

It was the taller girl dressed in masculine clothing who spoke, but her sister caught the hard glint in her eyes. "Good morning," she greeted. "Are you Monsieur Lefevre?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle," he confirmed. "And you both are..?"

The girl reached into the pocket of her coat and produced two sealed envelopes from we pocket and handed them to him. The red wax seals caught the manager's eye, and he beckoned the two girls into his office, momentarily forgetting the reason for his distress.

Lefevre bade them sit, and they took their places on the long sofa as he moved to his desk and sat down, and opened the letters.

Minutes ticked by as he read the contents of the letters in complete silence, one by one.

It was almost twenty minutes before he finished - or pretended to finish - reading the contents of each letter. "Which one of you is Emilie Louise, and which one is Narissa?"

This time, it was Narissa who answered. "I am Narissa, Monsieur," she indicated the girl beside her. "And this is my sister, Emilie Louise."

The man nodded and rose to his feet, his visitors following suit. "Come with me," he said.

Without a word, they followed. The older man's pace was clearly rushed, and it was a good thing they were both fast on their feet, or else they wouldn't have been able to keep up with him.

Emilie and Narissa didn't notice the people they passed by, or the stares directed at them; they had more pressing matters on their minds, and wouldn't have cared if they had noticed.

Soon, they arrived outside a room where music was playing, with the sound of sharp rapping on the marble floor every now and then. Lefevre knocked on the door, and entered.

Narissa peered around her sister, and found the opera manager speaking with a woman dressed in dark clothes who was holding a cane. Young girls dressed in the attire worn by ballerinas continued to move in time with the music, ignoring the conversation before them.

So, Narissa thought. That was the sharp rapping we heard.

As if sensing her gaze, the woman turned to look at her, and Narissa found herself gazing at a pair of agate brown eyes that seemed to see everything, and miss nothing. Quickly, Narissa ducked behind her sister, feeling unnerved.

"Mademoiselle Emilie," Monsieur Lefevre beckoned to her older sister, and Narissa saw her lift her head proudly - a trait they had both inherited from their mother - before entering the ballet hall. A sudden hush filled the room, for even the musicians had stopped playing as all eyes turned to the newcomer dressed like a boy.