Of Phantoms and Angels

X. The Soprano's Return

   Lilienne stood statue-still on a pedestal in front of the seamstress- Mme Omid- as she pinned the hem of her dress for their latest opera, Il Muto.  Music flowed steadily from the direction of the stage, and there was a constant hum of activity as preparations for the Opéra Populaire's next performance reached their peak.

     She gazed around distractedly, watching the smaller ballerinas flutter around like des papillions,  while the men haul heavy props.  She smelled the familiar mixture of drying paint on wood and stale sweat in the close quarters of backstage.  But she payed attention to none of it; she thought of Phantoms and Angels, and how much longer before they called her to the stage to rehearse their dances.

     "The ballet from act three!" someone called from the stage, and Lilienne was finally called back into reality.  She jeté-ed off the pedestal, much to the disapproval of Mme Omid, and joined the other ballerinas on stage.  Mme Cartelle clapped her hands.

     "Stand farther apart; you must fill the whole stage!  Vite, vite, girls!  You will not have this much time to blunder about when you are performing!"  She was disapproving, as always.  Nothing would ever be quite good enough for the tight-faced, shrill-voiced woman.

     They rearranged themselves, and as they awaited the maestro's cue, Lilienne couldn't ignore the nervousness that clawed at her- she looked around her at all the advanced dancers, all perfectly poised.  I've already failed the Angel, I can't fail Mme Cartelle as well...

     The maestro gave them a single bar count-in.  Lilienne twirled into the ballet, trying not to stumble over her feet as they adjusted to a new platform.  They all fumbled through the dance, arms ungracefully hitting one another.  Lilienne, mid leap, caught a glimpse of Mme Cartelle as she shook her head.

     "One more time, du début!" she called.

     Of course, Lilienne had learned that in stage language, 'one more time' translated to five more.  They all returned to their first positions and awaited their cue, bearing her scrutiny as they danced it over again.  However, the longer she danced, the farther Lilienne's mind drifted from the stage.  Was the Angel watching?  If he was, he was likely criticizing her every movement, just as Mme Cartelle was. 

     Lilienne was jolted back into her head as she danced straight into another ballerina, the impact sending them both reeling.  The two dancers fell to the stage with a hard thud.

     "Lili!" Brigitte cried.

     "Mlle LaClaire, what is the matter with you?" Mme Cartelle called.  "You should be ashamed, you hopeless child; grâce à toi, the dance is now ruined!  You should count yourself lucky that this is a rehearsal; what would I do if you had done this during tonight's performance!?"

     "Je suis très désolée, Madame-"

     "I don't need your tears, petite fille.  Get up, for heaven's sake!"

     Lilienne scrambled to her feet, smoothing out her skirt and drawing a shaking breath.  She was used to Mme Cartelle's insults, but after her last encounter with the Angel, she only seemed to be falling downhill.  Suddenly, Meg was by her side.

     "Madame, I think Lilienne is just tired. Perhaps if she could sit for a few minutes..."

     "We could all use a break, Madame," Brigitte spoke as she stood.

     "Eh bien, allez-vous en!  All of you!  You may go to lunch."

     She threw her hands up in the air in defeat, and a relieved sigh passed over the stage.  All the dancers dispersed to rest their muscles that ached from effort.  After an apology to Brigitte, Lilienne slipped backstage with her head low- could she do nothing right?

     Lilienne sat in the dining hall behind the stage with all the other cast and crew, shrinking amidst the clamour.  There were too many people for her to keep track of, and between the many bodies and their hot lunch, the room was becoming stuffy, and the air felt harsh in her lungs.

     But, in in the midst of all the hustle, Lilienne sat in silence, secluded by her thoughts.  In her mind, she kept returning to the previous night.  She heard the harshness in the Angel's voice.  Over and over, his words played in her mind.  As she stared ahead blankly, pushing her food around her plate to the rhythm in her mind, she absently twirled the loose end of the ribbon that tied her hair into its braid- the very length of black silk that had originally been tied to the stem of her rose.