|
Post by Christine Daaé on Jul 16, 2013 11:29:52 GMT -5
In an inwardly distraught frame of mind, Christine walked back to the rehearsal room and entered with that painted on mask of a smile that she wore to fool the outside world into believing her false happiness when in reality, she doubted that she could ever be truly happy again, for as long as she lived. It was the mark of a true parisien—the ability to hide one’s innermost feelings beneath a mask of indifference.
She took her place seated near the front of the chorus, close to the leads, and took up her score, reopening it and smiling at Monsieur Gabriel, listening and studying as the rehearsing continued on as normal. She was good at that—at listening. Listening, after all, helped distract from thinking about other things.
|
|