part 11
Chapter 4: Unimaginable disaster
When the gas lamps went out in the hall, Brill and her brother exchanged nervous views. "Here it is. Please... please, let me make a mistake this time.
The curtain slowly separated, revealing the stunning scenery. The two spiral staircases framed the scene, towering above the well-thought-out flames, so real that it seemed as if they were swinging. After a short pause, the choristers poured out onto the stage and took their seats around a huge round hearth right under the balcony, which was supported by stairs. Soon the sound of many voices merged in perfect harmony, filling the silence of the hall. The audience leaned back on their chairs to watch the opera through gilded binoculars.
The opening scene quickly explained the whole story without a single extra note or melody. Brill caught herself in the fact that she had become a little carried away by history, immersed herself in rapidly changing emotional scenes despite the fogging fear of the mind. She stepped forward, wide-open eyes, when she saw Don Giovanni hiding behind the red curtain, aloud reflecting on what should happen to the poor girl against whom he planned the evil.
The memories of the terrible dreams and the misfortune they had foretold were fading in Brill's head as she became more and more immersed in the drama being played out before her. On several occasions, she had to pull herself out of the world being created on stage, reminding her that she was not here to watch the opera. That the reason for this is much more serious and requires full attention. Looking away from the stage, Brill looked at the hall, lit by gas lamp's faces of the public, while trying to ignore the play. But each time the music penetrated through its determination like an assassin in the night, easily distracting attention. Brill turned to the stage again, as if drawn by an invisible hand.
The young singer came on stage; her voice rose effortlessly to the furthest lies. Brill was frightened to recognize her as a girl she had seen backstage three days ago. "Christine ... seems to be her name, - thought Brill, and insidious claws of fear cooled her interest in the play. - As she and that young man walked by, I knew for a fact that they would play a very important role in what was going to happen that night. But how... what's going to happen?
Grabbing on to the armrests of the chair, Brill looked back quickly and anxiously, studying the audience, looking for a clue that would explain her mysterious dreams. But I found nothing unusual. The audience sat motionlessly as if frozen in time; all eyes were chained to the stage - the whole theater was motionless, except for the fans of the singer, who had fallen into agitation. Then Conner turned his head slightly and awarded Brill a strange look. She must have made some kind of irritating sound because he continued to look at her closely as if she suddenly grew a beard.
A new, darker melody began to weave into the fabric of the opera when the verse of Christine's angelic voice: the purity of the cello was gradually replaced by French horns and drums. Attracted by the formidable intonations emanating from the orchestra pit, Brill again translated the exciting look at the action unfolding on stage. Conner mumbled something to her, but she just shook her head. With her fingers caught in the red velvet of her armrests, Brill felt her heart stabbed to death, losing her breath.
The Red Curtain, behind which Don Giovanni had previously fled, opened up again; at the same time, the music suddenly changed the pace. The duo of rattling drums and deeper, furious strings blocked the pure melody that Christina had just sung.
Behind the retracted curtain with a regal view stood a tall man. Slightly bending the masked face to the side, he stared at Christine. His dark hair was smoothly combed backward, on the face of a face hidden under a black mask. The man's suit, a beautifully sewn black headset, emphasized the slimness of his waist and the developed muscles of his arms and legs. The corner of his mouth rose in a triumphant grin, and he with the grace of a wild cat came on stage. The man seemed to be flowing over the stage, barely disturbing the air, his eyes sparkling from under the mask and inextricably looking at Christine.
There was something frighteningly wrong in the way he was moving towards the young singer, in the inclination of his head and a close look - as if he was following the girl as if he was going to eat her alive as soon as he got there. Brill had never seen anything like it in her life, and she wasn't quite sure that it was just a game. She looked at the pair, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat. In her throat rose and grew, like a tumor, a disgusting suffocating fear, until Brill was sure that now he would suffocate from terrible pressure. Her half-forgotten dreams began to whisper in her head, but she couldn't take her eyes off the stage.
When Christine turned around to look at the man, her mouth slightly opened from the shock, and she panicked for a few steps. It was obvious that this man had somehow taken the place of the fat Pianji, but it seemed strange to Brill that Christina had allowed such an incident to dislodge her from her role. Unlike the audience, which seemed to have no reaction to the substitution - on the contrary, the ladies were now looking with much more interest than before, but Brill's sucked under the spoon.
to be continued...