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I know nothing, I'm only a dancer Monsiuer

3/11/05 04:24 pm - Dear Diary,

We had a formal try-out today. An audition of sorts. We haven't gotten the results yet. I am excited, it isn't just the acting manager making a decision who would be best for the part. It really showed some of the flaws in other performers, other dancers, other vocalists.
The entire process showed me that I have things to improve on, and so do others. We were able to watch one another. I found it invigorating. I loved it, the competition simply drove me even harder. This opera is my life.
Dear Diary, there hasn't been the slightest sight of my Mama lately. I worry about her sometimes. Although, I haven't seen much of another dancer either. Sorelli has been off with The Comte. I do believe that there is something more between them than they say.
Oh! This reminds me, I have seen the young Vicomte de Chagney. Raoul is his name. He has been to the Opera almost every afternoon this week, I wonder why.


2/24/05 03:24 pm - Dear Diary,

I'v come to the conclusion that I am not alone at all. I'm always surrounded by something going on. This immense building has been my home and my upbringing. Since it opened in five years ago, I have not been ill-ease. It makes my heart flutter when I think of everything that has gone on here. The true fun is at the conservioutaire. We dance and laugh, but most of us are growning up and there is less laughter. Maybe I can find some way to liven their sprits.

I'm no perfectionist, and I really should be. I need to set my priorities straight and be more controlled. Maybe this diary can help me with some of my goals;

l'un: meet my future husband. I've always dreamed of loving and being loved, but nothing more than a a common dancer has ever looked my way. Ever since St. Valentine's Day, I have had not one ounce of amour or comfort from any males. Maybe I feel the loss so much because my father is gone to heaven. God rest his soul.EM>

deux: keep my tattoo a secret. I have not even told you, dear Diary. {I shall inform you later}

trois: to develop a healthy relationship with our Lord and Father through the Roman Catholic church. I barely get to the chapel as often as Christine does. She is entirely more religous than I am.

quatre: My last goal for this diary entry is relating to the Opera. I live and learn here. But I would love to teach. My tutors do not stay around long enough because I am not a very good student, more of a "bouche intelligente" or smart mouth. Maestro Chaminade has given up on me too. She and I were great until I decided to teach her things she was messing up on, oh well. I would love to teach though, or at least be taught by someone that knows something. I mean no disrespect, but I have picked up on a great many things while living here in Paris, around music.

Enough of goals. I look forward to this spring. Perhaps I shall ask Mama if I can take a trip, I've heard Christine speak of the North, and of eastern France. I have not been farther than 'Orleans. I dream large for a young girl of 17. But it is better to dream than not dream at all.

à jamais le vôtre,


2/20/05 10:01 am - Dear Diary,

I may be young, but I need not to be ignored. Oh! Everywhere I turn in this immense Opera House, I see others having a grande time. And lately, my friends, my comrades, my fellow dancers have found other things to interest them. I love to play games, I love to play keep-away, and maybe I'm merely being childish.They are growing up? And I'm not? Is there something wrong with me? Oh, if only they could hold on a little longer. Maybe we could go swimming again in the river, when the weather is warmer. Or even travel to the beach.

I'm just feeling a sense of loosing my childhood I suppose. I've grown up with these people around me and I'm not sure I'm ready to be an adult, although the glamoure of it seems more real every day. But life will go on, fortunately. This week we have been focussing on le amore. Love, never have I felt that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Maybe I'm just in a mood to complain, there isno real point to this Diary entry. Not at all. I shall go and find my tutor, she has taught me many things of singing.

Singing is not my forte, nor is it my hold-back. I can carry a tune, but dancing is my strongsuit. So, singing I will work on. Mlle. Chaminade is great for this. She composes, sings and even can dance a little. I've returned the favor by teaching her some good moves.

I have not seen very much of my own mother lately, she has disappeared to do many errands. I know not where or for whom, or for why she isn't willing to explain. It is hard to see her and not hav her. She is my mother, but I will share.


2/15/05 04:48 pm - Dear Diary,

I love it that even on rainy days people are pleasant, to my face atleast. I've not gained a pound since my last sotume fitting! Those lovely English Sweets Mama brings to me are very good. I adore chocolate when I can get my fingers on it. The other day, I tried for the first time; liquid chocolate. A warm, liquid chocolate. Cechiquoaital is what the Americans call it. But it's not from America, it's from South of the Americas. 

Drama will surely rise when the rumors get around to Mama Jammes. I've been told, and I confirmed this remark, that Little Jammes has gone and lost her virginity! Oh my! The thing is, is that she has not told me herself, so it could be false. I just am sitting here at the end of my day, and finally at last! {I stopped writing for a mere 5 minutes while Jammes herself came to reassure me she is still pure}

What a relief! I shall go now and stop all those dreadful rumors, I wonder who started them all anyways.

~Little Meg~

2/8/05 08:06 pm - Dear Diary,

Maestro said one thing that excites me. My lessons are going so well, that a local composer Cecile Chaminade would like to tutor me. A local tutor teaching me! And not from just the Opera, a real musician!

The excitement has just risen. While writing the previous good news, Mame Valerious (Christine's adopted mother) is up and out of bed. A while back, Christine has worried the poor lady for days on end. Christine has been visited by a great teacher, I overheard an "Angel of Music" but I'm not to say, for I was dropping eve's. This teacher of hers is very good, but I still don't a difference in her voice, nor dance. It has been nearly six months since her first lesson. So I don't know what this teacher of hers is really teaching her.

I only gossip to you , Dear Diary. This Christine business is not my own business, so I keep my nose out of it. But Donny and the costumes are my business.

I've been warned by Buquet that if my kitten keeps playing with the costumes that the seamstress will find out. Then I will be in for an earfill, most definately. And I am certainly not in the mood for any form of nagging or antagonizing.

The new students seem to be rather quiet. I mean, I've met one of them. It was when we took a recess and left the Opera. Gabriel, an Englishman. He and the others seemed to have a "jolly oj' time" learning with the rest of us in the Conservatioure. A nice young fellow, rather quiet at first though.

Either way, this Diary entry has come to a close, good night- mon ami. If I didn't have you, I might be the biggest "blabber-mouth" the stage has ever heard!


2/6/05 07:30 pm - Dear Diary,

Donny has such an appetite. He's growing into a very large Tom-Cat.

Mama has given me a key to most of the higher story closets and rooms. But on one condition, that my responsibility for the key includes not to try it in any of the lower story rooms, doors or closets. I don't even go down there, so of course I agreed! But I'm so curious sometimes, I wonder why not downstairs, maybe the boards are getting creaky and old or something. But I can't see why- this Opera isn't more than 20 years old since the start. Or maybe there were things down there left from the military. It's supposed to be a secret, but all of the dancers know that the Revolution held this as a prison and such. We've found old weapons.

The Italians have the most infectous laughters, and are wonderful companions to visit the Tavern with. Piangi took soem of the girls to M. Harold's Tavern not but two days ago, and we had a marvelous time. Mama is not to know. I met James there, he is a Baron. Actually, his full name- if I remember correctly is Barone Castelot de Barbezac. My memory is not failing me, I wouldn't think. It sounds correct when I say it aloud.

I wear the key Mama gave to me around my neck, on an old chain I found in my dressing room. It was aomng some of the flowers given me after last season's Opera opening. We opened Maestro Guido's new Opera, it was lovely. I must go now, I have a date with James for an evening picnic somewhere near the River Sienne.

2/1/05 02:54 pm - Dear Diary,

I had a picninc on the fourth balcony today. We brought my kitten with us. There was myself, Christine, Lilliana, and Francesca. I think she said her father was Italian. I mean, her olive skin is absolutely beautiful.

There have been few going-ons about the Opera House. I did find one lone cloak though. Noone seems to know who's costume it is. We haven't excactly needed a cloak for any production that I remember. Maybe a gentleman left it there one night. Who knows?



1/25/05 06:12 pm - Dear Diary,

Can you believe it? These past two days have been entirely stress free! The MM Managers have given each of the leading performers a gift! I'm so pleased with mine! La Carlotta was given a pair of diamond dress shoes. I've never seen anything more beautiful before. La Sorelli was given leather gloves that had silk lining, I thought they were rather handsome. I'm sure that Mama has told both the managers that it is my birthday next month. I mean, I've only told her and Christine what I want. Oh, I;ve told you as well. But let me tell you, Dear Diary- they gave me the most handsome kitten. He is not even 3 months old, he's a brown and white cat. I've named him DONATIEN For he truely was a gift.

I think that last week, either La Sorelli or Jammes borrowed my fur shawl. I have very few nice items, for Mama works at the Opera, and I know not of my father. Mama said he died. But, I've never been truely blessed economically. So I find it dreadful when something as nice as fur gone from my dressing room. As a lead dancer, I need to look well for public outings. The public is begginning to recognize me just a little more often. But Jammes siad that it wasn't her, but it was missing since the last time someone screamed "Opera Ghost! It's the Ghost!" That's been, what? Nearly a week I believe. But what would the Ghost want with my shawl? Surely he might have a heavenly angel at his side he could give it too, but I'm just rambling now. On another note, I think I've found a weak point in the walls of the boxes. Near every pillar, it seems hollow. I've often heard humming when I go to visit Mama during the mornings before practise.
Wouldn't it be lovely, Dear Diary, if one day I was recognized every where I went? Oh how lovely to be in the public's eye. I love to delight the audience. To hear my name, as if I were the star, and not he Prima Donnas. Me? A celestial center stage performer? "LA MARGUERITE" If I haven't mentioned this already, that is obviously my elongated name. They will scream and applaud me. Oh, Dear Diary, it will be lovely. The Opera is my home. The conserviouatore is the only place I've truely belonged.
I must go and feed Donny now. (this is what I call him for shortness.)

1/22/05 09:11 pm - Dear Diary,

Nearly everywhere in town allows minors to drink at the pubs. It hasn't exactly been terribly long since my first encounter at the English pub down the street, a new fellow owns it. I've seen many locals there. Before Mama finds out, I'd better not let her read over my shoulder.

Everything at the opera-house has been in hushed tones since the rumor of Mr. Manager. I do believe in the rumor. It's not as if La Carlotta has been any easier to handle since La Sorelli also has become a name for herself. The competition has been fierce. And because of the new casting-lead for a mezzo-soprano singer, I could be up for a leading role! Can you believe it, Dear Diary? I may be no prima-donna, but I do have holding power.

I'd actually love to lead in next week's production. Well, tonight's gala is about to start, maybe I'll meet a rich special someone.


1/15/05 09:19 pm - Dear Diary,

Yes, tonight had no odd occurences thankfully. I was a lead dancer thanks to Monsieur Gabriel, the acting manager, to help me into the new steps. I've taken care of finding a new favorite bow. Mame handed me one for the performance tonight of Faust. It is the new managers, MM. Richard and Moncharmin's favorites this month.

I also have found that A good deal of young men keep ending up intoxicated by the end of a performance. Especially the trap-door men. Also the "organ" managers as well. I giggled when they were first foundm, it wasn't a serious ordeal either. I don't know what to think of that. It's not right that they should drink on a performance night

Besides, the new ribbon that Mother handed to me, was found with her english sweets. She's a box-keeper. And a guest gives her her favorite candies. English Sweets. Maybe they heard of my fretful night finding my ribbon a snack to a mouse from her. She must have told him! I just know it must be.

I've been kept up lately. Buquet told me I've been so tired lately is because I've been sleep walking. La Sorelli locked me into my room last night, so I could not do that anymore. Buquet also said that I was headed towards the rue de rivoli side of the opera house. I don't know why I went there. My dreams have been sound. I do remember waking up to a single candle lit next to my doorevery time. And I also remember listening to a sound, it wasn't distinct at first, but as I try to remember. I think it was a light, giddy song. Yes, it was the song I sang past new year.  Also, I've herd it sung at other significant parties. One was at the departure of our dear managers from time past. "Masquerade" was the song.

My new ribbon is purple. Not quite a lavendar, nor plum, but a deep purple. I simply love it. Dear Diary, if only you had eyes to see it.

A performer for you,


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