The Quest - *Phantom of the Opera* (a fantasy romance)

Chapter XXII

Destiny Foretold

XXII

Once Mère left to return her handiwork to the seamstress, Meg pulled out her stationery box. The pages of the letter may well become their own tome, but even if Christine never read them, penning the words had proven beneficial for Meg's peace of mind. In relating the events of Paris and her life, thus providing a written testimony as they unfolded, she no longer felt as if she languished, alone, in a forgotten corner of the world. However, today's entry grieved her heart, and her hand trembled as she wrote, picking up from where she'd left off:

3rd of April, 1871

I have sad news to relate, news Mère shared with me that she heard in the city. I feel you would want to know; Monsieur Reyer suffered a stroke three weeks past. I do not believe former events at the opera house brought this about, so please, neither of you should burden yourselves with unnecessary remorse. This revolution has caused a great stir of excitement, but it has also brought unforeseen anguish, and I feel Paris's rebellion aided in his collapse. He cannot speak, and all that is left of his family has drawn near to be with him, as has his widowed daughter, Sabine, with whom he's had no contact for six years. She has moved to the city to care for him. I hope learning that gives you comfort, as it did me. I always thought him such a funny and kind little man, a gentleman, though praise earned from him for a performance was difficult to win, as I'm sure you will recall. I remember how he would often smack his baton against the podium in trying to bring the chorus to order, ignorant rabble that we were, and I smile with fondness as I write this, at the memory of how exceedingly horrible those rehearsals had been! Poor Monsieur Reyer.

Other men have also experienced attacks of their hearts and souls at such a harrowing moment in our country's existence. Mère tells me that Monsieur Reyer was loyal to the Napoleonic regime, so he must view this rebellion as a betrayal of his countrymen. For myself, I cannot express an opinion, except to say that though nothing untoward has occurred, I share Mère's fears that the existing peace is superficial. The troops have withdrawn, but something about their easy surrender of Paris leaves me apprehensive, though again, I cannot explain my feelings, except to convey they exist.

Messieurs Firmin and Andre have returned to the junk business, and I say good riddance. I never felt comfortable around our former managers. They often looked at me so strangely, with an evil light in their eyes, as if they could see through my dress and even past my chemise! It made me shiver when they lurked nearby. I know you must have felt it too, for they looked at you the same.

I have saved the lighter news for last; at least I hope you will think it so. No longer mourn over La Carlotta's distress regarding her loss of Signor Piangi. The diva is now mistress to one of the stodgy noblemen who swarmed out of Paris en masse, and they have gone to live in Versailles. So refrain from harboring any qualms that she still clothes herself in black (trimmed in pink, of course), and refuses to speak to a soul. Perhaps she did grieve at first, I will grant her that. She was not completely pitiless and I suppose three weeks' mourning is to be considered astounding for one so vain. You should have heard the spectacle she presented each time she realized her public stood near. I daresay, even the good nuns at the Charité Hospital have never witnessed so many swooning spells or distressed moans as came from La Carlotta. Perhaps I am being unkind, though the haughty stares she gave you incensed me. She sounds happy, if misguided, but she was never one to listen well. I hear the nobleman she has chosen as her lover is quite fickle and changes mistresses as often as he changes hats. Still, "that is La Carlotta," as everyone at the opera house was wont to say.

The creak of the outside door opening made Meg look up from her parchment and set it and her quill aside. "Mère?"

"Oui, ma chère, who else?" Her mother's words were light. "I have brought company."