Unmasqued

The comte raised his eyebrows. "One does not consider La Sorelli as endowed with much common sense, although the dancer certainly is not lacking in other areas of endowment." He watched Christine over the rim of his goblet.

She looked away, focusing her attention on Raoul's warm thigh brushing against hers, and the fact that his face and hands were much more elegant and comforting than the intense expression on his brother's face. She realized, suddenly, that it was fortunate that she had caught the eye of the younger brother before that of the elder one.

"Theater folk are mad-pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle-they have too many of these absurd superstitions. It is ridiculous. We nearly had to cancel the plans for Faust, which is to open next week, because of the scenery." Moncharmin began to rapidly chew his bite of bread as though agitated or embarrassed.

"The scenery?" Raoul was mystified. "Was there a fear that it should fall? Is it not merely a painted backdrop?"

"Oh, no, no… did you not notice, my lord, that the scenery has real doors and windows? And corners and alcoves? It is the new style, to make the set more realistic, and we spent twenty thousand francs to build the Heaven set for Faust in order to keep our theater ahead of its competitors…and they refused to even rehearse with it." Moncharmin's bread was being ravaged. Crumbs sprayed. Crust dangled. "I cannot begin to understand this business."

"It is the blue," Christine ventured to speak. Everyone looked at her, even Moncharmin. But then he flickered away. The comte's attention did not. "The blue on the scenery-the sky. No one in the theater will perform with a scenery that is blue, for it brings misfortune. Death or loss of money."

"Death? Is that so?" The comte's gray blue eyes swept over her in that arrogant, calculating way that made Christine think of the protectors. But there was not one hint of fatherliness in his whole attitude.

Raoul did not seem to notice. "How did you resolve it, then?"

"It was insisted that we add silver ornamentation to the set-another cost, of course." Moncharmin reached to mangle the loaf of bread in the center of the table. "Another five thousand francs."

The comte smoothly changed the subject. "I did not mention how delightful it is to see you again, Miss Daae. I am told we met briefly some years ago, when you and my little brother romped at the beach in Perros-Guirec. Not a very fashionable place, but one near my aunt's home, where Raoul was raised."

"You remind me of a bittersweet time, Comte de Chagny," Christine replied. That summer in Brittany was the last summer she had with her father. "My father died that following winter, when I was ten."

"It was Madame Valerius who raised you then, was it not?" added Raoul.

"Yes, she and her husband, the professor of music at the National Academy of Music in the Opera House, were friends and admirers of my father, who was a great violinist. They were kind enough to keep me with them until I was able to enroll at the conservatoire." From then, it was an easy path for her to find her way to the chorus and ballet corps, all the time hoping for the chance to advance further.

To find her place.

Had she found it now?

"That day you met her at the seashore, I rescued her black scarf from the surf, Philippe," Raoul added. "Do you recall being there, now that I have reminded you?"

"Indeed I do," Philippe replied, his attention focused on Christine. "I do remember the girl, who has now grown to be such a beautiful young woman. It is no surprise, Raoul, that you have determined to reawaken your acquaintance with her. If I did not already have a countess, I would be so inclined." He gave a brief nod, meant to imply tribute to Christine. But she saw the look in his eyes and knew better.

From the time she was twelve and joined the chorus for a mere eight hundred francs per annum, she had lived in the dormitory at the Opera House, sharing a room with the other dancers. Living in such a casual, communal environment, she'd been exposed early on to the sexual interactions between men and women through whispered conversations, spying in dressing rooms, and her own clumsy, groping experience with one of the props boys that eventually led to her own deflowering.

And then of course, there had been Madame Giry, who spoke frankly of such liaisons and experience, and urged her girls to make their own decisions and taught them how to utilize their feminine power to the best of their ability. And how to be certain they were not gotten with child, and what to do if they should be.

Christine had witnessed the coquettish ways dancers and singers of all ranks-both men and women-teased and flirted with the admirers who came backstage to the foyer de la danse after the performances. She saw the hungry way the men looked at the dancers, at times with admiration, as Raoul did with her… and at other times with a condescending desire. As the comte did now.