Operatic Tragedy | Mikael

Chapter Five

 Marguerite didn't see Mikael in the crowd that night. Whenever she looked out to the audience she kept an eye our his face, but never saw it. But perhaps he was just somewhere she couldn't see him.

 When the performance was over and she was back in her dressing room, she heard the all too familiar sound of Pierre's rapping his knuckles on her door.

 "You were splendid tonight, my dear," he said through the door. "I must say, you are truly the greatest soprano I have ever seen and heard."

 "Many people have said that to me, Pierre," Marguerite replied. "But I will believe it coming from your mouth because I believe you are sincere about it."

 "Of course I am sincere. You have talent and passion, Marguerite. There is no way to lie about that. I must say, you seemed far more relaxed tonight than you have been."

 "Oh, I am," she said. "I saw that man again today and actually spoke to him. He is a Monsieur Eriksson from Scandinavia, and he is not a ghost after all."

 "Ah. That's good to hear, I suppose. It would be a bit strange to have ghosts around here, wouldn't it? He is an attendee, I presume?"

 "Yes, he said he has been enjoying the opera. He doesn't seem like the opera-going type-you know the type, Pierre-but he seemed so sincere when he said he likes it here."

 "I see. Is that admiration I hear in your voice, my dear?"

 "Not admiration, Pierre. You know I respect anyone who can truly appreciate our art."

 "I know, I know. But...is this a new suitor I finally sense? The mysterious gentleman who enjoys attending the opera and listening to your voice."

 "Oh, Pierre, that's ridiculous!" Marguerite remarked. "We only just properly introduced ourselves today. And besides, I must be too old to be having suitors. I am forty, and will be forty-one soon enough."

 She heard Pierre laugh. "You know, there are women who would lie about their age so people don't know how old they really are, but not you. You are far to honest for such things."

 "Then I will continue to be far too honest." Marguerite opened the dressing room door, dressed in her own clothes again and ready to go home. "I suppose I shall see you tomorrow?"

 "My dear, you see me every night. How could I tear myself away from all this for even one night?"

 "Oh, I'll take that as a yes. Goodnight, Pierre."

 Marguerite exited the opera house, and saw a familiar figure walking down the steps ahead of her.

 "Monsieur Eriksson?" she called.

 The man stopped at the bottom of the steps and turned around. She couldn't see his face, but assumed it was him since he stopped when she called him.

 "It is you, isn't it?" she asked, coming down the steps.

 "Yes, it is. Good evening, Madame Roux," he said, and she knew it was him when she heard his voice. "I did not if I would see again tonight, but I must congratulate you on your performance tonight."

 She smiled. "Thank you. Norma is a favorite of mine, and I respect anyone who can appreciate it. May I ask if you are living in the city, Monsieur?"

 "For the time being, yes. I am not living in so respectable a part of the city as this, I'm afraid. What of you, Madame?"

 "On a respectable street that isn't very close, which is why I take a cab, and it also seems to be more fashionable is the leading lady arrives by carriage instead of on foot. Come, let's hail a cab and we can ride together. You must also need one of you live very far."

 Before Monsieur Eriksson could protest, Marguerite hailed a cab and said to him, "Come now, Monsieur. It is not a very long ride."

 He nodded, and said to the driver, "To the lady's home first." He looked at her. "Madame?"

 Marguerite gave the driver her address and they settled down in the carriage as they drove off.

 "If you don't mind my asking, Monsieur, what brought you to Paris all the way to Scandinavia?" she asked.

 "Business, I'm afraid. It is not anything particularly interesting, and certainly wouldn't be to a woman with a profession such as yours."

 "Perhaps not, but my husband was a businessman, and you have to know some business to be in my profession."

 "Ah." He nodded. "Well, I do not know how long I will be in Paris for, but the opera seems to have persuaded me to stay a little longer than I meant to stay. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I am attracted either way."

 Marguerite smiled. "A love for music is never a bad thing, Monsieur."

 When they reached Marguerite's street, she got out and paid the driver extra.

 "That should be enough for my companion's drive home," she said. She said to Monsieur Eriksson through the carriage window, "Please allow me to pay for it this time. Goodnight, Monsieur Eriksson."

 "Goodnight, Madame," was all he said, for he was staring at her and didn't seem to know what else to say.

 Marguerite remained standing on the sidewalk until the carriage was out of sight. She hummed softly to herself as she went indoors for the night.