The Metropolis Case_ A Novel - Matthew Gallaway [38]
Lucien felt a pang of dread as he wondered if she had somehow detected his missed entrance, or if perhaps she was annoyed that the audition had even been scheduled. On the verge of a mea culpa, he stopped as she raised her eyes in his direction and smiled, a ray of serenity that contained no trace of seduction but—just as he would have hoped—only the reassuring condolence an established singer might give to a younger one beginning a climb toward the lofty peak where she now stood.
The professor and his sister disappeared, leaving Lucien alone in the music room. As he waited, he parted the drapes with a thought to open the window, but the casing was stuck and he dared not push too hard for fear of breaking a pane. He pressed his palms against the cool glass as he regulated his breathing and decided that he preferred the heavier, more expectant air inside, suffused with the sweet scent of the burning lamps and the long shadows of the room.
A few minutes passed before Manuel García swung open the doors. “You’re still here?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” Lucien replied thickly, as if he had swallowed a jar of ink.
“Most of my singers are not in the habit of missing their cues,” the professor addressed him curtly. “As I explained to the princess, you are quite a bit younger than I would normally consider, and your lack of concentration seems to validate my suspicion that this audition is premature.”
It had not occurred to Lucien that the professor could be so merciless, but as soon as he recognized the trait, he realized that he would have to respond accordingly unless he wanted to return to another year of classroom drudgery. “Professor, I understand your concern,” he began, “and whatever dismay you felt a few minutes ago is not only one that I share but one that is compounded for me by having made the mistake.” As Lucien spoke, he thought of Pauline Viardot and knew that he would do anything to join her ranks. “With your indulgence, I’ll sing without the piano this time.”
The professor’s expression remained stern, but he relented. “That won’t be necessary,” he said as he took his seat and began to play. “But this will be your last chance to impress me.”
LESS THAN TWO hours later—after an exuberant dash through a dusty field of construction adjacent to the Rue de Rivoli—Lucien was back on the Île, where he found his father in the garden. “I have important news,” he began in a rush, before describing the audition with the famous professor and how he had managed to redeem himself. “I think you’d be very impressed,” he barreled ahead. “He’s extremely scientific—after he listened to me sing, he took measurements of my chest and waist and he looked down my throat and up my nose, all of which he declared to be in the proper proportions for a singer.”
Guillaume barely lifted his eyes from the table, where he was comparing two leaves and entering figures into a notebook. “So you’re going to be his student?”
“Yes, exactly!” Lucien cried, as if to make up for his father’s lack of enthusiasm, “and if all goes well I can expect to enter the conservatory in two years.” He stood facing Guillaume for several more seconds and realized that he had yet to deliver the most important—or at least controversial—element of the news. “Which means I don’t have to return to lycée this fall.”
“Is that so?” Guillaume responded quietly as he folded his hands in front of him and looked directly at Lucien. “And what if I said you did?”
“Do you understand who Manuel García is?” Lucien challenged. “I would be one of his youngest students ever—it’s practically a guarantee.”
“Surely he doesn’t expect you to train with the