The Violinist's Daughter

Chapter 1

Gustave Daaé watched as his 6 year old daughter pranced around  the Opera Populaire, laughing playfully as the lights became brighter.

She gave a charming bow, blowing a kiss to the spotlight technician, and dashed off stage. Gustave laughed as his little girl ran straight into his arms. He swept her up to his waist, looking happily at her lovely face.

"Papa, I want to play music just like you! I love being on stage!"Her musical voice chirped out the words her father loved to hear.

"Oh, älskling, you will become the biggest star the world has ever seen!" He ruffled her soft brown curls, causing her to giggle uncontrollably. "Naj! Papa!"

He put her down and she clung to his leg. "When is Maman going to come back?"

He winced, bending down to face his little daughter. "I'm afraid your Maman isn't here anymore. She's up in Heaven, with all the angels."

Christine looked at him thoughtfully, "You told me that already. I want to know when she will come back to me."

Gustave kisses her forehead, stroking her curls. "She can't come back to us. But, one day, we will see her in Heaven."

Christine pouted, crossing her arms. "I want to go see her now."

He sighed, "I'm sorry, älskling, not until you're much older."

She sighed, and tugged on his hand. "Tell me a story, Papa!"

He chuckled and sat down on one of the seats. Christine crawled up onto his lap, putting her head on his chest.

"Once there was a girl, Little Lottie. She loved to sing more than anything in the world and she would pray to her Angel of Music." Christine sighed rubbing her eyes.

"Her Angel of Music would come to her, and speak to her, teaching her how to sing. She and the Angel would play together and practice until her voice was more beautiful than any Angel in Heaven. Her angel, who loved her very much, took Little Lottie into Heaven and they lived happily, with music and happiness."

Gustave looked down at Christine, who looked back at him sleepily. "Is there more?"

He smiled, kissing her head, "One day, when I'm gone, I'll send the Angel of Music to you, Little Lottie."

She smiled, closing her eyes, "Little Lottie. . ."

Gustave carefully picked up Christine and walked backstage. Antoinette Giry stood, her beautifully angular features trained in an uptight frown. They softened into a gentle smile as Gustave and Christine came into view.

"Bonjour, Mon Ami. I see Christine is well."

He nodded, setting Christine into Antoinette's arms. He looked at Christine lovingly, before looking back at Antoinette. "Thank you, Antoinette, I think her first trip to the Opera House was a little more than enough for a day. Can you wake her up for the performance? She loves to watch me play, and today I'm doing her favorite piece."

Antoinette, nodded, looking at Gustave curiously. "What is her favorite piece?"

"Sarasate's Carmen. I think it's because her Mother was an opera singer. She loves all the operas arranged for violin."

He laughed quietly and Antoinette's eyes twinkled. She peered down at the child in her arms, smiling. "She is the same age as my Marguerite."

He chuckled,"Perhaps they will become friends."

Antoinette nodded, "Perhaps. Good luck, Gustave."

"Thank you. Congratulations on becoming the instructor for the ballet, Madame Giry"

This earned a small smile for Antoinette. "It was hard earned."

With that, she strode off to the less glamorous part of the Opera  across the street, called Paradis du Danseur but it was less like a Dancer's Paradise, and more like a  combination of dance, music, and insanity that felt like Hell but created Heaven.

In the building, there were a section of cots for young children  who were sent to the ballet camp and  small bedrooms  for the students who trained full-time at Garnier Institute, the Conservatory that had partnered with the Opera House that focused completely the arts. The Institute was aimed at students from 13 to 26, and even though there were 13 year olds, they were so well trained and intent on becoming dancers that the age hardly made a difference when practicing.

Sometimes, when singers and dancers were too exhausted to go home, they would spend a night in the cots, resting their souls from the grueling rehearsals.

Without a doubt, the Opera Populaire was the most prestigious  organization in the whole world. With more awards than one could count, the place was absolutely enormous. The original architect had created numerous secret passageways and rooms that no one had discovered yet. The Opera was simply magnificent.

Antoinette placed the sleeping child into a small play pin stuffed with pillows and blankets next to one of the cots in her office. Christine slept easily, and, within a few minutes, Madame Giry was asleep.

An older boy crept into the room, his golden eyes simply observing the sleeping child in the pin. He found her to be quite cute and liked the way she had a small smile on her lips. Her brown curls were dark and glossy and made the pale face look even paler. He concluded that she was a lovely child, but probably a stupid one. No one, not even those years older than him, understood the heart wrenching  meaning of music.

This girl would never understand what the sound of notes truly meant, for she was almost certainly just another child who would try her hand at music and give up. No, he didn't like this girl, for she was just another one of them.

He slipped away to the hidden passageway behind a mirror that led to Carnegie Hall. Today there was to be a Swedish violinist performing whom he greatly enjoyed. The violinist had an excellent sound and brilliant skill, which he greatly admired.

The boy laughed when he thought of the little girl in the room, for she could never fully understand the skill the violinist had.