"After your father, the famous violin player, passed on- you were left with only one option to make a living.
To work at the Opera De Populair, under Madame Carlotta.
Living in the basement of the Opera, one night while singing in what you thought...
He walked slowly in the orchestra pit, "Mademoiselle, last night I heard you singing. I know you- you thought you were alone, but you were not. You have the most astonishing voice."
He seemed genuine, for a stranger. The dim light glistening off of his eyes, the only part of his face visible besides thin lips.
"It is like an angel. Exquisite in tone and shape, in fact in almost every single detail. Except- but forgive me, it is obviously untrained. Now without training, your voice beautiful though it is; will never attain the heights for which I know it is destined.
Now , if you will allow me, I can help you. I-I am a musician, of sorts."
You walked towards him again, "Please no." Apparently he did not like the physical closeness.
"There is a condition and this condition is inviolable. I have never taken on any students, for until last night I never wanted to. And if others should hear that I am giving lessons, well they will want them too. Therefore I must insist, if you allow me to be your guide and I sincerely hope you will, I must insist that I remain anonymous; which is why I'm wearing this mask."
You think and begin to answer, "Please." The man stops you.
"There's no need for an answer now. I will find you. Goodnight."
With that, he disappears- seemingly floating away into a dark hallway. You decide against trying to follow the masked man, he probably knows the opera better than you.
***
The end of another day, the actors were undressing into their every day attire. Tossing their costumes onto a long table.
You're humming while picking up the costume pieces, a song the maestro taught you as a vocal exercise.
He had found you the next day, or night technically speaking. He described what his thoughts or plan was. The first thing he had given you apart from his name, his title really, was a piece of music. One that stretched your singing ranges, it was good for every singer have a decent range.
"She's been here for a month and all she does in hum." A brunette actress said. "And she's getting better at it." Another one added.
They spoke as if you were deaf, as if you couldn't hear them standing a foot away.
"Dear- have you heard from the count?" She asked smiling.
They all laughed, "that shut her up." You walked out into the hallway to return the costumes to the powder room for tomorrow's rehearsal.
The pageboy caught up with you. "Ms/Mr/Xr. Y/N! Listen, I found a a nice family you can stay with. Not far from here, it won't cost you anything!"
"Thank you, Sir. But I'm very happy where I am."
"I'm not supposed to let people stay here!"
He stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking around at the walls. Though something must have changed his mind on that, he never asked you to leave another time.
It was the opening-night of the production Norma.
Flowers were pouring in for Carlotta, even if those poor people hadn't yet heard her voice. If one could even call it a voice.
"More flowers Madam." You said entering the stars dressing room, vase in hand. She pointed to an empty spot on the vanity as she "sang."
You retreated through the crowd of people to backstage. For the next 10 minutes you were bustling around other actors, stage crew, and the managers occasionally yelling at people.
The orchestra played, queue the audience's silence.
Handing Carlotta her moon prop and she began to sing. Her voice was sharp and loud, not the best of the sopranos- but enough for her miserable husband.
Though it was odd, she was scratching her neck with it. The viewers chuckled, then moved on.
She sang louder, itching her neck again. Her husband received a panicked stare and a stressed song.
While the crew were trying to figure out what was happening, a loud bang came from the stage. They all stared to find Carlotta aggressively running her head up and down a prop.
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The house burst out laughing. Soon enough she threw the false hair to the ground and grabbed her wig cap.
She crouched down out of embarrassment, making a fool of herself while cast members circled around her as the curtain shut.
Even though it was a short night, some of the older viewers were not satisfied and gained a refund; the younger folk were quite content with the performance (which they had no idea was cut short).
