The snowflakes had not yet stopped descending when Pierrot appeared from behind the curtains. He strolled toward a large brown piano that had been rolled out into the center of the stage. Pierrot had never met the piano before. He settled in on the bench and hunched his head over the keyboard and wagged and wiggled his hands over the keys before even touching them, as though to warm up. When he pressed the keys, his fingers jumped back in surprise. The keys were so much lighter than those of the piano at the orphanage. They were so much more willing to be his accomplice. This was a piano that liked to be played, unlike the other, stubborn one. He ran his fingers over the keys, enchanting both himself and the audience. His playing sounded like laughter in a school yard. The tune sounded nonsensical at first, but then the audience picked up the tiny, delicate, sweet melody that he was improvising right before their eyes. It sounded like the world’s most magical jewelry box had just been opened.
It was the bar of music that he had played the first time Rose began dancing. Pierrot had been working on it every day since. Remembering how she couldn’t resist it, he had wanted to seduce Rose again. Rose closed her eyes, listening and enjoying the tune, ignoring the rest of the world. She began to dance from one foot to the other, swaying to the music backstage. There was suddenly the sound of laughter right behind her. She thought that she was safe behind the black curtains, thick as the night in a moonless forest. But when Rose opened her eyes, she was standing onstage, facing the back curtain. She very slowly turned around; the audience was looking right at her.
Everyone in the audience became completely quiet the minute they saw Rose’s pale, shocked face. They couldn’t take their eyes off her. She looked so surprised that she was alive. They couldn’t figure out why exactly they found her so beautiful. What was it that was making them stare? Was it the giant eyes, which seemed to be preternaturally black? Was it the dark hair? Was it the rosebud mouth? Her rosy cheeks?
Pierrot kept playing. He played hesitantly, as if the tune were also trepidatious and surprised to find the audience there. Rose smiled at the audience. She flapped her arms in the air as though she were trying to ascend to the heavens, to escape the situation she was in. But she hopped upward and landed on her butt.
They all laughed at her adorable expression and antics as she continued to find ways to fly off the stage. Rose felt the admiration from the audience. It was like standing in front of a fire that was emanating heat. And every time she made any movement, it was as if she had tossed a log into the fire.
At that moment, Sister Elo?se ran out from the back. She had to stop what was happening on the stage. But she didn’t watch where she was going. She tripped over the rope attached to one of the buckets filled with fake snow that had mysteriously not tipped over. Of course, now it seemed to have no trouble reversing. A heap of paper snow spilled out over the stage. Rose scrunched her head into her shoulders and put her hands out on either side as though she were caught in a snowstorm.
She spun as she shook the paper snowflakes out of her hair. Then she wrapped her arms around herself, the way people do when they are freezing at a bus stop. She started to hop from foot to foot as though she were trying to keep warm. Then she began dancing a dance of a snow angel. She acted as if the ground were cold to her toes and the wind kept making her swirl around. She stood on the tip of one toe and raised her other leg high above her head. She quickly brought it down before the dress slipped down completely. She was wearing white darned stockings underneath and black lace-up boots.
And Pierrot played along. They were so synchronized that it was hard for anyone in the audience to discern whether Pierrot was playing along to her dancing or whether she was dancing to his music. It seemed to everyone watching that they had rehearsed this number carefully for years.
Pierrot began to play so wildly that there was nothing for Rose to do but make a little flip in the air with her hands behind her back. She flung her body forward as if in a front dive. For a moment it did seem that she was about to obtain flight. And then she tucked up into a roll, wings and all, and ended up right at Pierrot’s feet.
Pierrot played the last notes of his song. She put her hand out. He took it. He helped her to stand and they walked to the center of the stage and took a bow.
A very wealthy woman was seated next to the Mother Superior. She was the cousin of the former prime minister. She had a hat made out of distressed velvet. It looked almost like she had just come off the battlefield and had a bandage wrapped around her head. It went so far down over her face that you could only judge her expression by her thin lips, which were usually constricted into a tight frown. She had a mink stole that seemed not to want to behave, as it kept slipping off her neck and getting into fights with another audience member’s Pekingese. She leaned in to the Mother Superior.
“Ces deux-là sont extraordinaires. I must have those children perform in my parlor,” she said. “I’ll make a sizable donation.”
And her words changed the orphans’ lives.
On the way home, Rose put a snowball against her cheek where Sister Elo?se had punched her the minute she got offstage. She was sitting in the back of the cart with the other girls. The Mother Superior was seated up front, Sister Elo?se at her side.
“I think the minute we get back Rose should be put in the cupboard for a week,” Sister Elo?se suggested.
“She’s been punished enough.”
Sister Elo?se was stunned. The Mother Superior turned and looked at her harshly. “I don’t want you hitting her in the face again. She’ll be black-and-blue for two weeks now.”
“I think it’s time to send Rose out to work. Before she really gets us into trouble.”