Chapter Text
Clutching the hand of his daughter, Gustav Daae was climbing up the stairs of Opera.
The freezing November wind was blowing into his face, making him squint, and look down rather then up. Several brittle snowflakes found their way behind the collar of his coat, and now cold water drops were trickling down his spine. All in all, Gustav Daae was in a foul mood right now.
He didn’t want to do what he was going to do. In fact, he would gladly listen to any person, who would give him the solution to his problem. But there was no solution, at least he couldn’t see one. Except this.
Finally they were able to make their way up the stairs and slipped through a small side door only to find themselves in the grandiose hall of the Opera.
“Wow”, came the whisper from his left, and Gustav felt his mood lighten up a bit. His daughter could always brighten it, just by being the sweet, open-minded child she was.
“You like the Opera, Christine?” he asked, turning to the girl. Christine nodded vigorously:
“It’s not like I imagined it, it’s even better! Like a palace from a fairytale…”
“You are not too far from the truth, Christine. It’s a palace of music” Gustav smiled, watching the way his daughter was looking around her, her eyes glowing, smile on her face. This sight made his heart ache. What wouldn’t he give up to see it happened under different circumstances!
“Come. They are waiting for us”.
The staircase brought them to the hall of the first floor, where the main offices were situated. Gustav marched to the last one on the left and knocked.
After a second the secretary opened the door.
“Monsieur Daae!”
“Hello, Antoine. Are Messieurs Debienne and Poligny in the office?”
“Yes, and they are waiting for you. Come in”. Antoine opened the door a little more, gesturing the visitors to come in.
Gustav took the hand of his daughter once again and stepped into the office.
It looked every bit like the office of the directors of the Paris Grand Opera. The walls were upholstered with beautiful silks in wine-red, the floor covered with a thick carpet that muffled the sound of their steps as the approached two identical desks standing against each other.
The directors were waiting for them indeed.
“Ah, monsieur Daae, come in, come in”, said Bernard Debienne, rising from behind his desk. His round face was decorated with the friendliest of smiles that looked a bit out of place in this particular meeting. “I trust that you know my friend and colleague Jean-Luc Poligny…” the second man, thin and mustached, rose from his place, giving a business-like nod, “and I also took a liberty to invite Madame Giry to this meeting” a woman in her late thirties rose from the settee.
“This is my daughter Christine”, Gustav squeezed her hand, and Christine curtsied just like she was taught. “Thanks for having us. I wasn’t sure if…”
“Noncence!” Debienne interrupted him, coming a little closer. “You are one of our best violinists, M. Daae, we would miss you. Now m. Rouge has to learn the part of the second violin, oh dear…” he chuckled, and Gustav smiled politely.
“It is not for long, I hope, no more than two weeks. Then I would be able to return” he turned to mme. Giry “Please, take care of my girl”.
“I will”, she nodded, for the first time looking straight at Christine. “However, I hope that these two weeks won’t be for nothing and Christine would continue in our ballet class”.
“Won’t you, Christine?” Debienne also looked at her, and Christine swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she wouldn’t be able to repeat even the simplest movements? What then? Would the directors throw her out of the Opera?
“We’ll see”, said Gustav quickly, as if sensing his daughter’s distress. “I want Christine to be able to choose her own path”.
He looked at her with love, and suddenly Christine couldn’t hold the tears anymore.
“Please, Dad, please, don’t go! Don’t leave me!” She clutched to him, trying not to cry and failing miserably. She didn’t care anymore that there were other people in the room, that it was terribly indignant to cry in front of strangers. All she knew was that her Dad was leaving her for who knew how long, in a place she knew nothing of with people who were strangers to her.
“I’m sorry Christine, I’m so sorry, but there is no other way for us. Remember I told you about your grandmother?” Gustave’s voice was also a little teary.
Christine nodded, still hiding her face into her father’s jacket. Her father’s side of the family never approved of his marriage with a French woman, and, by extension, of Christine. Now that Gustave’s mother was on a deathbed, a letter came and asked him to visit his family’s house one more time. After all these years of silence Gustave couldn’t say no.
“Then you know why I have to do this” he whispered into her hair.
Another tiny nod, and slowly she was able to let him go. She made a step back, still sniffling, her face red, - partially from crying, partially from shame. But he couldn’t blame her, not in this situation.
“Excuse me, but could you please bid farewell? Some of us don’t have all day, you know” Poligny finally decided to break the silence. Despite harsh words, his tone was more awkward than unkind.
“Of course, of course, please forgive me” Gustave made a step forward and hugged his daughter one final time. “Goodbye, Christine. I will come back”
“Goodbye, Dad” she whispered, trying not to start crying again.
“I will bring young mlle. Daae to the dormitory” said mme. Giry, coming forward. Debienne nodded, obviously thankful that she was stepping in.
“Cheer up, mademoiselle! I know you’ll like it here, in our palace of music and magic” Poligny tried to lighten the mood.
But mme. Giry already took her bag into one hand and Chtistine’s small hand in the other, and marched out of the door – taking her away from the directors, from her father and from her old life.