The costume was heavy and smelled like Carlotta's cloying rose perfume, and when it surrounded her, it clogged Christine's nose and caused her eyes to water. The aroma was not the pure scent of roses sent by her Ange de Musique, the scent that she gladly buried her nose within and drew deeply from. The smell from Carlotta's discarded costume was rank and overpowering, just as Carlotta herself was.

Yet, and yet… Christine would wear it, for tonight she was to take the prima donna's place in more than her gown. She would sing the aria of Juliet, from Gounod's Romeo et Juliette, in front of the entire Opera House because Carlotta, the Opera House's star, had stormed off in a great snit earlier today.

During rehearsal, one of the backdrops had fallen from its moorings a bit too close to the very costume Christine was now donning, but which at that time had been worn by the diva Carlotta. She had just had the pleasure of meeting the Opera House's two new managers, Messieurs Moncharmin and Richard, when the wooden pole clattered to the stage. It brushed the edges of her gown, landing in a loud thump at her feet.

Carlotta bolted away as quickly as her generous form would allow as the length of heavy canvas tumbled to the ground, her bosoms and jowls bouncing and her outraged screams echoing in the sudden silence. She clapped her hand to her chest, sending off a puff of white powder from her bosom. "How dare it! How dare it!" she shrieked, yanking off her tall, feathery headdress and tossing it at one of the costumiers. "La Carlotta is ill! La Carlotta shall not sing!"

She stalked off the stage and disappeared in a froth of skirts and feathers, the new managers staring after her in shock.

Horrified whispers skittered around the stage and pit in her wake.