"Ah, good morning, Mademoiselle!," greeted Monsieur Reyer as I walked out onto the stage. Reyer was pushing a simple, wooden piano while also holding a large stack of scripts under his arm. He huffed as he pushed with one arm; the heavy piano creaking as his face turned red.
"Morning, Monsieur Reyer!" I replied, quickly rushing forwards, "Here, let me help you, sir."
Reyer smiled, breathing a sigh of relief as I took the music sheets from him, "Bless you, Mademoiselle." and with his arms now free he shoved the piano into the middle of the stage with minimal effort.
He turned back to me, looking around the stage, "Now, I need to get some chairs. As the other chorus members show up could you please do me a favor and pass the sheets out to them?"
"Of course I can, sir," I said with a nod.
Reyer sighed, "Thank you. I'll be back in a couple of minutes. You'd think that in such a large building you'd be able to find a single chair, but no!" he huffed as he walked away, muttering, "'No not that chair, it has wet paint on it. Not that chair, it's a breakaway, no no no...'"
I snickered as he left and gazed down at the sheets, flicking through them. There were at least thirty sheets, and the music was complex and some parts looked fairly difficult. I hummed slightly as I read some, walking over to the piano and practicing a couple of bars with one hand; holding onto the sheets with the other.
"The show is only a few days away, my dear," said a voice from behind me. I whirled around and grinned as Madame Giry and Meg walked out onto the stage, "Are you ready?"
I shrugged, "As ready as I can be, I guess." I replied as I walked over to Meg and handed her a script, "For the performance...at least..."
Madame Giry placed a hand on my shoulder, "Don't worry. I'm sure that everything will work out exactly as it should."
I blinked, staring at her. The screaming from the audience, the burning flames, and Erik's broken and sad face flashed through my mind and I quickly turned away and rushed to a couple of chorus members as they approached the stage. I shook my head slightly to clear my mind as I gave them their scripts. I knew exactly how that night is supposed to go. But would everything happen exactly as it should? Even if I interfered, would any of the outcomes change? What if something went really wrong? What if-
"Pay attention." said a strong voice next to my ear.
I jumped at the sound and yelped as I almost walked right into a chorus member. The scripts slipped in my hands and I struggled to keep hold of them as I apologized. I turned around to thank whoever warned me, but found no one there. I looked around, confused.
"Did you really think I wouldn't watch a rehearsal for my own show, Mademoiselle?" said the voice again. I took a glance around me. No one else had reacted to the voice. Slowly, I gazed up at box 5 and just for a second I saw a glint of white. I sighed and rolled my eyes with a small smile; turning away to hand out the rest of the sheets.
XxX
"Hide your sword now, wounded knight!" sang the chorus; Monsieur Reyer instructing them with the wave of his hands.
"Your Vainglorious gasconade!
Brought you to your final fight,
For your pride-high price you've paid!"
I stood at the edge of the stage with Madame Giry, watching the rehearsal with curiosity. Piangi had his fingers in his ears as everyone else sang around him. Christine had arrived late, quickly grabbing a script from me and opened to the right page just in time.
"Silken couch and hay-filled barn,
All have been his battle field."
As Christine sang Carlotta looked over at her and glared, gripping onto the pages of her script in jealousy. Meanwhile, Piangi stared at his in confusion.
Piangi took a deep breath, "...Those who tan-gle with Don Juan-" he sang; late and off-key. Reyer groaned and signaled the chorus to stop singing, whirling on Piangi in a fury.
"No, no! No, no, no!" Reyer shouted, "Chorus, rest please!" Everyone else sighed and closed their scripts in a huff, staring at Piangi in annoyance.
"Don Juan," Reyer continued as Christine rushed past him to grab her seat next to Meg. Piangi hid behind his script. Reyer rolled his eyes, "Signor Piangi."
"Si?" Piangi replied in a fake smile, his head popping up from the paper.
"This is the phrase," Reyer turned back to the piano, "Those who tangle with Don Juan! If you please."
Piani huffed, "Those who tan-gle with Don Juan!"
Reyer threw his hands in the air in annoyance while the chorus member who scored the role for Passarino, laughed. Carlotta whirled her head at him and glared; the man quickly fell silent and turned his attention to his script.
"Nearly, but no!" Reyer commented, turning to play once more, "Those who tang-tang-tang!"
"Those who tan-tan-tan!" Piangi sang angrily, throwing his script on the floor.
"Oh, 'is way is better." Carlotta muttered, but not so quietly, "At least 'e makes et sound like music!" she called out, and the other chorus members laughed at her comment. Carlotta giggled, muttering to Piangi, "Cosa sta pensando quello stupido compositore? Quest'opera è ridicola, assolutamente ridicola."
Madame Giry huffed and strode forwards, "Signora!" the laughter died at once, "Would you speak that way in the presence of the composer?"
Christine looked down at her feet, while Carlotta chuckled and looked around.
"De composer is not 'ere," she said matter-of-factly, standing up from her seat, pointing at Madame Giry, "And if 'e were here I would tell hi-"
"Can you be certain of that, Signora?" Madame Giry asked her, smiling slightly.
Carlotta's face fell at this and everyone went quiet. A few people looked around in worry and I couldn't help but glance up at box 5 for a moment.
I stepped forwards, "Monsieur Reyer, if I may-"
Reyer shook his head, "N-Not right now Mademoiselle," he whimpered, turning back to Piangi, "O-Once again, if you please, Signor Piangi. After seven!"
Everyone looked at Piangi, who had once again buried his face in his script.
Reyer clapped his hands to the beat, "Five, six, seven!"
Piangi shook, his forehead sweating, "...Those who have been tangling with the Don Juan!"
Everyone groaned and began shouting and talking back and forth angrily. Piangi threw his script aside and buried his head in his hands while Carlotta jumped up and whirled on Reyer.
"What does et matter da notes we sing!" she shouted, "No one will know if et iz right or wrong! Nobody will care!" Carlotta cried, whacking Reyer with her script to get his attention, "Stupido uomo!" she shouted, "Questo è inutile! Idiota!"
I huffed and strode forwards, shoving the seat in front of the piano aside. Before I could do anything though, the piano began to play itself, as if someone was playing the part of the score with their left hand only. Everyone quieted down and stared in awe at the piano being played by no one. I reached forwards with my right hand and began to play the part meant for the right hand, watching the other keys with interest as they moved of their own accord.
Everyone shakingly picked up their scripts, surrounded the piano, and looked out into the audience.
"Poor, young maiden,
For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets,
You will have to pay the bill,
Tangled in the winding sheets!"
XxX
"A little more to the left!" I instructed as a group of stagehands pushed the grand piano into place next to the pit. Since the piano was too large, and since the audience had to see my performance, the removal of at least 10 chairs had to occur to fit the instrument. We had, of course, asked the Managers if it was alright that a few seats be put away.
"A few less seats; a few less people to see this show," Firmin had said with a huff as he straightened his hair, his face pale, "The showing is tonight, and everything has to be perfect for our..." He rolled his eyes, "composer... and if that means that a few seats have to be sacrificed so you can play your part then so be it."
"Alright, that's perfect! Thanks, guys!" I said with a grin, picking up the piano bench and placing it front and center. The stagehands nodded, wished me good luck, then rushed off to finish their duties. Slowly I sat down and placed my hands on the keys. I ran my fingers through all of them testing to see that all the strings were in tune. Once I found that everything was in working order I reached over to my right to grab my music sheets that were sitting on the edge of the stage. I glanced up as I did so, taking in the design of the set. The spiral staircases, the red drapery, and the balcony had been finished yesterday afternoon and now sat upon the stage in an eerie way. As if it was threatening everyone that dared look in it's direction.
But I was shaken out of my thoughts when a loud whistle blew from behind me, a thudding of boots entered the auditorium. I whirled around and stood from my seat as two rows of policemen walked towards the stage, following Raoul, Andre and Firmin, and the Captain of the Guard.
"You understand your instructions?" asked the Captain as they all made their way onto the stage, "When you hear the whistle take up your positions. I shall then instruct you to secure the doors. It is essential that all the doors are properly secured!"
"Andre, are we doing the right thing?" asked Firmin, looking around nervously.
"Well, have you got a better idea?" whimpered Andre. His forehead was sweaty and he dabbed a handkerchief against it.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," called out the Captain, "Am I to give the order?"
Raoul glanced around for a moment, then looked back at the Captain with determined eyes, "Give the order."
The Captain nodded, and walked out into the middle of the stage. Bringing his whistle to his lips, he gave it a sharp and loud blow. The policemen who were standing at attention immediately rushed off at it's sound, one even coming down and jumping into the orchestra pit.
Raoul rushed over to look at him, "You, there! Do you have a clear view of that box?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Remember, when the time comes, shoot! Only if you have to, but shoot to kill."
My blood ran cold at this, and I gripped onto the music sheets in my hands.
"How will I know, sir?" the policeman asked.
Raoul turned away, "You'll know." The policeman shook his head, staring at him in confusion.
Firmin turned to Raoul with a groan, "Monsieur le Vicomte, are you confident that this will work? Will Miss Daae sing?!"
Raoul raised an arm at him, "Don't worry, Firmin." he said, "Andre?"
Andre chuckled and smiled nervously, dabbing his forehead again, "We're in your hands, Monsieur."
"My men are now in position, sir," the Captain said, standing at attention.
Raoul nodded, "Go ahead, then"
The Captain nodded back, then turned to face the auditorium, "ARE THE DOORS SECURE!?" he called out.
There was a slam, "Secure!"
And another, "Secure!"
"Secure!"
"Secure!"
"Secure!"
For a moment it was silent. And then...
"I'm here...The Phantom of the Opera..." Erik's voice called out softly. The managers whirled around at the sound, muttering to each other, while Raoul glared, holding his arm out to the Captain to hold. I couldn't help but smile slightly, Erik's voice making me shiver. I looked back to the managers and Raoul, and almost snickered at the frightened look on their faces.
"I'm here.." his voice called out again, but this time from the other side of the auditorium by the boxes, "...The Phantom of the Opera." Everyone's heads turned in it's direction.
"I'm here..." the voice moved again, it was now to the back by the doors.
"I'm here..." to the ceiling.
"I'm here!" Erik shouted, his voice now coming from the rafters. There was a loud bang as the soldier shot his pistol. I screamed at the sound, dropping the music sheets and covered my ears as everyone began to shout.
"Stop, idiot!" Raoul screamed.
"Miss Scarlet!" yelped Andre as he rushed towards me, "Are you alright?"
I nodded and quickly sat down, my heart pounding, "Yes," I replied, "J-Just startled, that's all."
Raoul's face was red, "I said only when the time comes!"
"But, Monsieur le Vicomte-!" the soldier protested.
"No buts!" shouted Erik, his voice booming loud and clear and this time no one could tell from where, "For once, Monsieur le Vicomte is right.
Seal my fate tonight,
I hate to have to cut the fun short!"
Raoul and the managers looked around with pale faces, Firmin even reaching into his coat pocket and fishing out a tin bottle with shaking hands.
"But the jokes wearing thin.
Let the audience in.
Let my opera begin!"
Author's Note: This is the translations to what Carlotta said: Cosa sta pensando quello stupido compositore? Questo lavoro è ridicolo, assolutamente ridicolo: What is that stupid composer thinking? This work is ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Stupido uomo! Questo è inutile! Idiota!: Stupid man! This is useless! Idiot!