Persephone's Angel

Music of the Night

Chapter Twelve: Music of the Night

--* I couldn't stop thinking of my and my Opera Ghost's wonderful night as I layed in my bed, here is the rest of what happed.

 After the stroll in Jardin des Tuileries, the Opera Ghost and I walked even more, I was walking senseless, I had no idea of where I was; but, the Opera Ghost, however, knew exactly where he was and he was going. We ended up at a cemetery and beside the cemetery was a huge, gothic style church with a large, silver bell at the top that was rung on Sundays. "Wow" I whispered and the Opera Ghost shrugged,

"I designed this building, my Angel of Music, just before I designed the Paris Opera House" said my Opera Ghost, my eyes bulged as I looked up to him.

"You designed this place? And the Paris Opera House? Wow, so you're an architect!" I cried, He smiled and gave a small chuckle.

"Yes, I did. Of course, with the Paris Opera House I had a little help; the man's name was Charles Garnier. And there was a sketching competition to see who could sketch the finest opera building the world would ever see. Garnier won the competition, I was too late to submit my sketch. However, in talking to Garnier we struck up a deal; I would help him build the Palais Garnier which you know by the name of the Paris Opera House.

Guess how many years it took to complete?" He asked, smiling to down to me, he had taken up my arm again and we were walking through the cemetery. I bit my lip in thought.

"Five years!" I guessed and he shook his head.

"Higher"

"Uh...ten years!" I guessed, surely I must be over!

"No, no my dear, higher"

"uh...fifteen?" I asked, the Opera Ghost laughed.

"You're one year off, my darling! It took us fourteen years to finish the Palais Garnier, that was only due to money troubles and the Franco-Prussian War; during that time the Palais Garnier was used as a warehouse." He explained, I nodded.

"A warehouse for what?" I asked, he sighed.

"Gunpowder, food, clothing, things of that sort" he further explained. "Then, a fire came and destroyed the interior of the Palais Garnier, but, do you remember the five cellars? Good, they remained untouched." He paused for a moment and a smile graced his lips "when it was finished again, Charles was summoned to the Empress Eugénie and I can still remember what she said! 'Whatever is this style?

It's not a style! It's neither Greek, nor Louis XVI, nor even Louis XV!' and Garnier, I must tell you, was a man who could think on his feet; he instantly replied with 'No, those styles are outdated. It's Napoleon III. And you complain?'

Oh, my angel! I don't believe I've ever laughed so hard in my life!" My Opera Ghost said, laughing, I giggled and we quieted again, I rested my head against his chest and he took us up the steps of the church.

"Wait...we're going inside? Isn't that trespassing?" I asked, my Opera Ghost smiled.

"Of course we're going inside, you must see the organ! No, lovely, I built this place, after all." He replied with a wink, producing a small, golden key and unlocking the great doors. Lit candles were scattered all about the pew room and, standing at the front of the pew room was a young-ish man, he was on his knees before the statue of God. He wore a white robe and blue rosary hung 'round his neck.

He stood at our presence, and the Opera Ghost didn't look the least bit surprised. The Opera Ghost gently escaped my arms and walked to the man who I suspected was the preacher; they shook hands like old friends and spoke fast French. I stood a little ways away from them, confused. Although my French was improving, I dare not attempt to say it to anyone just yet! The man I suspected of being the preacher had short, blonde hair and light green eyes; he was a tad pale, then again, who wasn't in this part of Europe?