Just how much worse I was soon to find out.  Andre called me at five-thirty the next morning as he had promised and I was at work by six-thirty.  I did not even stop to get a cup of coffee.  Michel and Jacqueline were surprised to see me hard at work when they came in at eight-thirty.  Michel asked me how long I had been there and I told him.  Then he said that I should probably take a quick break and go get something to eat before Jean-Baptiste came in.  He told me that he was afraid that I would get into trouble for coming in so early, or worse, make myself sick by working such long hours and not eating properly.  So I did as he requested.  As it turned out, there was a snack-bar at the metro station not far from the opera house where I was able to get a croissant and a small coke lite.  It cost somewhat more than I thought it would and the croissant was not the best one that I had ever had and the entire breakfast was not very filling but I really wanted to get back to my work as soon as possible so I really did not care how good or how bad the meal was.

     When I returned to the opera house, I asked Andre if Jean-Baptiste had come in yet and Andre replied that he had not yet arrived.  He must have noticed the look on my face because he asked me if anything was wrong.  "Nothing," I replied, "Nothing at all.  I just wanted to know if he had come in yet."  I returned to the work-room and went back to work on the men's pants that I had been working on for the last several days

     I looked at the clock on the wall just before I started back to work and it was just before nine o'clock.  When I looked at the clock again, it was three-thirty.  I had just put the pair of pants I had been working on down on the work table and had gotten up to stretch and had just sat down again when Jean-Baptiste walked in the room.

  "Bonjour, Roberta.  Ca va? (how's it going?)"    "Ca va bien, Jean-Baptiste (going well)."   "How are the pants going?"  "Not as well as I had hoped.  I've only gotten one pair half-way done.  It's been awhile since I've done men's pants and I guess it shows.  I was hoping to have one pair done by five o'clock today but it doesn't look like I'll make it."  "How long have you been at it?"   "Since six-thirty this morning."   "Six-thirty?!  Have you been sewing the entire time?"  "No, I took a break at eight-thirty this morning."   "And that's the only break you've had all day?!"  "Uh...yeah," I said rather bemused.

     "Roberta!  I want you to go home, right now.  You can finish these pants tomorrow."  "But why?  I need to get these pants done as soon as possible.  You know how Carlotta is, and besides, I thought my hours were flexible."

     "They're not THAT flexible.  Besides, you're no good to me in the costume department if you make yourself sick."   "But I feel fine," I replied.   "And for how long?!  I don't mean to be angry but I must look out for my help.  If my help gets sick, I'm not able to get the costumes done on time.  You've already seen what can happen if there's any delay. Remember how Carlotta was yesterday?  Now just imagine how she'll be if there are any more delays!  I really don't want to have any more scenes like that!"

     "Very well, monsieur, but I really would like to finish those pants."  "Let's see what you've done so far."  I held them up for him to see.  "These will do nicely--only the waistband and braces to finish, I see.  No, I'm sorry, Roberta.  I must insist that you go home.  You've been here nine hours already!"  "Eight and a half," I corrected him.

   "That's plenty long enough!  Go home!  Get some rest!  Eat!  That's an order!  You can come back at eight tomorrow morning.  That's plenty early.  Now, go home!"  As I stood up to go and get my things, I must have swayed a little because Jean-Baptiste then added, "See!  What did I tell you?  You've been at this too long today!  Have you eaten anything since this morning?"  He took my arm and made me sit down again.

    "Uh...no.  I guess I haven't."   "Roberta, I'm under orders by the management to keep the health care costs of our company down and I have enough problems with Carlotta and Joseph.  I don't need to be worrying about your health problems in addition to theirs.  Now I want you to go home and get something to eat and get some rest.  Come back in tomorrow at eight.  You can pick up where you left off."  "But what about Carlotta and the rest of the cast?  Won't they be upset?"  "I can handle Carlotta.  What I can't handle is M. Hauptmann jumping all over me and accusing me of letting my help work themselves to death over a few costumes.  Now, go home!"

     I stood up again and grabbed the edge of the work table to make sure I did not sway, and then looked at Jean-Baptiste and said, "I'll go home but I want you to know that it's under protest.  I'll see you tomorrow."  I grabbed my purse and sweater and left the opera house.

     After leaving the opera house, I walked down to the Place de l'Opera and turned left, going down the Boulevard des Capucines.  Not only was I looking for a cafe or bar-tabac that was still serving something to eat, but I was also looking for a bookstore that might have had books about teaching English.  I was still unsure if the events of the previous evening had been my imagination or if they had really happened.  Well, Roberta, I thought to myself, even if this has all been just a dream, you can still use any books that you might find to teach Colette.  That is, if her folks will let you teach this langue barbar!

     While I was able to finally find a bar-tabac that was still serving sandwiches, I was unable to find any bookstores that had any books on teaching or even learning English.  I walked nearly the entire length of the Boulevard des Capucines before finding a bookstore that even carried any books in English.  When I asked the saleclerk if this particular bookstore had any books on teaching English or even learning English, she suggested that I try the Latin Quarter of Paris.  I must have had a look of disappointment on ly face because she explained that mostly tourists frequented this part of Paris and most of them were either English-speaking or had no interest whatsoever in English textbooks.  I nodded my head and said that I understood her position and then left the store, still empty-handed.

     I got on the metro and, by changing trains at a couple of stations, made my way to the Latin Quarter.  I was not sure if I would find any place open because it was nearly five-thrity but I finally found a bookstore that had a large section of textbooks for teachers.  Looking back, I probably should not have been surprised.  This part of Paris, near the University of Paris, has always been a great place to find books and Frenchmen read far more that their American counterparts.  The trick is not finding what one wants but finding what is within one's price range.  The days of cheap, used books have long since gone and I was unable to find anything really suitable for someone just starting to learn the language.  My search was complicated by the fact that I had never taught English in a formal manner to anyone.  After all, how do we native English speakers learn the language?  Usually, unless one is deaf, by osmosis.  That is, we are surrounded by the language all the time.  As I mulled this point over in my mind, I thought, well that's fine if we were in London or New York but we're here in Paris.  Osmosis won't work here.  Maybe I'll just have to design my own course for Maestro.  No, that might not work.  What if he wants to learn British English or Canadian English?  Isn't there a book with all these firms of English?

     I was just about to give up on my search when I came across a paperback edition of THE STORY OF ENGLISH by Roberta McCrum, William Cran and Robert McNeil.  Even though the copyright date was 1988, and some of the information in it, especially the slang, was quite outdated, it was better than anything else that I had found so far.  The only other book I had been able to find was one called THE QUEEN'S ENGLISH and was copyrighted 1955, shortly after Queen Elizabeth II had been crowned, and I thought, no that's too out-of-date.  The English language has changed too much in the last forty-six years, and besides, England is no longer part of the United Kingdom, nor is it a constitutional monarchy but is now a republic.  I was unable to find anything else in the way of teaching English or even in learning the language, so I took the McNeil book and paid sixty francs for it.  I was surprised that the book cost so little but the saleclerk at this bookstore told me that the book had gone out ot print and also that there was little demand for that sort of thing here in France.

     As I perused the book on the way back to the Fontaines, I remembered the PBS series the book was based on and hoped that I had made the right choice.  The series tended to get a little bogged down in etymology as well as the history of the language and I hoped that I would be able to find a way to use the book as a basis for teaching conversation and perhaps even teaching Maestro to read and write the language as well as to speak it.  I suppose that I could have tried to find tapes in English but I felt that it was all that I could do to find what I had, and besides, I was not at all sure that Maestro would even have a tape recorder or if he even liked using tapes.  I have always felt that one learns a language better if one is speaking with a live speaker rather than trying to learn a language using tapes.  I know that I always had more fun learning a foreign language, particularly French, when I was able to speak with a live, native speaker rather than the tapes that were used by my high school teachers and I hoped that Maestro would learn more by speaking one-on-one than he would with anything else.

     When I arrived at the Fontaines, they must have been surprised to see me come in so early--nearly seven o'clock, as compared to all the other evenings that I had come in so very late.  When I explained that Jean-Baptiste had let me go early and that I had spent the rest of the afternoon looking for the book that I had just bought, Mme. Fontaine seemed relived.  I am sure that she was glad that I had come home safely so early, and like Jean-Baptiste, she may have been worried that I was working too hard.  As for the book on English, I explained that someone at work had wanted to learn the language and I was willing to teach him and that was why I needed the book.  Neither she nor the rest of the family said anything more and I had a nice dinner with the family, and the reader can be assured that I did get a good night's sleep.

     I arrived at work at eight the next morning and started where I had left off the day before.  I had just finished making the braces that button onto the pants when Carlotta walked into the workroom, and as usual, she was in a huff.  "Are my costumes ready yet?" she demanded, in an angry tone of voice.  "No," I answered, very surprised that she should have asked me because Jean-Baptiste was in charge of her costumes-- at her request, I might add.  "And you call yourself a costumer?!  What do you do with yourself all day while you're here?  Just sit around and do nothing?!  Why, I ought to have you fired!"  She whirled around only to bump into Jean-Baptiste as he was coming into the room.

     "Why, Carlotta!  So nice to see you here so early today!"  Jean-Baptiste greeted her.  "Jean, I want that girl out of here now!"  "Why?  What has she done?"  "It's what she hasn't done that I'm upset about!  She does nothing here at work!  With so many unemployed Frenchmen that can do her job so much better than she, I don't see why she should even be here in the first place!"  "Now, Carlotta.  We agreed that she was not to do your costumes.  I am to do them and here they are.  Let's go to your dressing room to see how they fit."  He motioned to Carlotta to follow him and then turning to me, he said, "We'll talk later."  They left the room and I got up to close the door behind them.  I then went back to the work table and sat down and began to cry.  Admittedly, I had not had much experience in the workplace, but up until then, I had never had a co-worker that difficult and I was nearly at my wit's end with Carlotta.

     Just then, I heard Maestro's voice.  "Don't let her get to you like that."  I looked up, and as usual, I saw nothing.  "Maestro?" I called out softly.  I had no wish for Carlotta or anyone else to hear me.
"Yes, it's me.  Please don't let her bother you." "Why is she doing this to me?  What did I ever do to her?"  "Nothing, and that may be part of the problem. In addition, she's a French nationalist and a staunch supporter of M. le Pin.  She may have other problems as well, so don't let her get to you."     "What other problems does she have," I asked as I wiped my eyes.

   "I'm not in the position to say at the moment."  I nodded and then asked, "Where are you?  How do you know all this?"  "As for where I am, that is not your concern for the moment.  As for my knowledge of her, I've been able to observe her at length and I've watched her treatment of other members of the company.  About the only advice I can offer you concerning Carlotta is to try and avoid her if possible.  Let Jean-Baptiste and the managers handle her.  Don't get into any arguments with her for I assure you, you will not only lose the argument but you will also lose your job as well and I would hate to see you join the ranks of the unemployed."

     "But if she keeps on like this, won't she end up losing her job as well?" "That's very unlikely.  Unlike most of the members of the company, she has friends in high places, if you know what I mean, and these are people that she has known for years and done many favors for in the past.  I would advise you to at least pretend to agree to everything she demands and if you have any more problems with her, let Bouquet or the managers handle the situation.  Don't even try to handle it yourself."

     "Thank you.  I'll try to follow your advice.  I wonder what's keeping Jean-Baptiste.  He said that he would be back."  "He's probably still with Carlotta.  He may be with her for a while, trying to calm her down.  You should stay in this room and calm down as well and from the looks of your work table, you still have a lot of work left to do.  We'll talk later, perhaps tonight when you give me my first English lesson.  You haven't forgotten, have you?"

     I shook my head and said, "Of course not.  At what time will we meet?" "Later on this evening.  I'll contact you.  A bien tot!"  Then there was silence and, as usual, I had a moment of doubt as to whether or not I was imagining things.  I picked up the braces I had been working on and buttoned them to the pair of pants I had just completed and after folding the whole thing, I placed it in the costume bin, picked up the pattern peices for another pair of pants and started all over again.  Maestro's right, I thought, I really don't have time for this.  I've got too much to do.

     I had just finished sewing the pants' legs and was working on the fly of the pants when Jean-Baptiste opened the door and walked into the room.  He quietly closed the door behind him.  I looked up as he walked towards me.  He pulled up a chair and sat down beside me and said, "I'm really sorry about all this."  "It's all right, monsieur," I said as I reached for a pin from the pin-cushion. "No!  It's not all right!  She knows better that to do this!  I've had a talk with her and I've gotten her to agree to talk with me from now on about any concerns she might have with her costumes.  If she gives you any more trouble, come to me and I'll take it from there."  "Thank you, monsieur.  I'll do everything I can to stay out of her way," I replied, turning back to my work.

     "Listen, Roberta.  Why don't you take the rest of the day off?  Michel and Jacqueline can help get these done."  "I'd like to, monsieur, but I noticed before Carlotta came in that some hoops on a couple of the crinolines need repairing and I'd really like to get that done.  Besides," I added, "if I keep busy, I won't have time to think about my problems with Carlotta."  "Very well then.  I'll give you an extended lunch break.  You can come back at three."   "Won't Carlotta be upset?" "Carlotta has left for the day.  What she won't know won't hurt her!"

     "All right.  I'll be back at three, then."  I reluctantly put down the pair of pants I had just started and picked up my things and turned to go when I thought of something.  I turned to him and asked, "Could I use the phone?  Since I'm going to have such a long lunch hour, I'd like to call home to my French family and let them know I'll be home for lunch today."  "Of course.  You can use that one on the wall over there next to the door.  Just remember to dial nine before dialing the number.  Otherwise, you won't be able to get through."

     I walked over to the phone and called Mme. Fontaine to let her know that I would be home for lunch that day.  Just before she hung up, she told me that I had another package waiting for me at the concierge's apartment.  I thanked her and hung up.  Then I turned to Jean-Baptiste and said, "I'll see you at three."  I then left the opera house and went back to the Fontaine's for lunch.

     The noontime commute was hectic as all noontime commutes are and I arrived at the apartment building at about twelve-thirty.  When I got to the concierge's, she did not look happy to see me.  At first, I was puzzled as to why she should look so upset and then I tried to pick up the box that she indicated was mine.  "Oof, c'est lourd!" (Wow! That's heavy!)  "Oui! C'est vrai! C'est cher, aussi!" (That's right, and it's expensive, too!)

    Then she told me that since she had to pay extra postage on it because of its weight, I owed her thirty francs, about five dollars.  I only had thirty-five francs left from my last paycheck but I decided it would be worth being broke for the rest of the week, as I had had enough hassles already and really did not need to have any more.  I gave her the thirty francs and took my box, taking several rest stops on the way to the Fontaine apartment.  When I got there, I had to ring the doorbell since my hands were full and I was unable to get my keys out of my purse.  Mme. Fontaine opened the door and when she saw me struggling with the box, she helped me put it down on the floor under the coat rack in the short hallway that led to the rooms in the apartment.  Then we both went to the dining area of the living room and sat down with the rest of the family and had lunch.

     I was unable to get back to my package until after I had helped Mme. Fontaine wash the dishes after lunch.  She suggested that since I had had so much trouble carrying it inot the apartment, I should empty out the box a little before carrying it to my room.  When I opened the box, I saw a note from my brother Pete, and under the note, I recognized one of the French textbooks that I had kept from my college days.  At first, I laughed out loud.  After all, why would I need books on the French language and culture since I was already in France?  Then, I got an idea!  Why not use some of the conversations and readings that were in these books, even translating some of them into English in order to teach Maestro?  I quickly grabbed as many books as I could and took them to my room and came back and picked up the box and took it to my room.  I quickly went through the books, tossing the ones that I did not want at the moment onto one side of my bed and putting the rest on the other side, perusing the titles as I went.

     Since it was nearly two-thirty, I quickly chose three books to take back with me to the opera house.  One was ALM FRENCH: LEVEL ONE, the second was CONVERSATIONS IN FRENCH and the third was COLLOQUIAL FRENCH.  I grabbed those three books and Pete's note, which was actually more like a letter than a note, told Mme. Fontaine not to wait supper for me because I would be working late again and left the apartment as quickly as I could.  I got to the metro station as quickly as I could and since I had some unused tickets left on me, I did not have to spend the few remaining francs that I had for subway fare or waste any more time waiting in line for tickets from the vending machine.  I got back to the opera house just before three and was able to get back to work on the pants I had started before lunch.  I put my books and letter aside and waited until my first break at five-thirty before I did anything with them.

     At five-thirty, Jean-Baptiste walked into the room and told me that I had to take a break.  I really did not want to because I was in the middle of working on that pair of pants but he insisted.  "Madame, I am afraid you must stop your work for at least fifteen minutes."  "But if I do, how will I even get any more done on these costumes?"   "Roberta, I'm word is getting around that you are getting as difficult to work with as Carlotta."  "God forbid!  I've never been as bad as she is!"

     In a kinder tone of voice, Jean-Baptiste said, "No, at least you're not trying to cause trouble all the time like she is, but nevertheless, management is concerned."   "But all I'm trying to do is do my job and to stay out of her way.  Besides, she's the one that's always griping about the costumes not being done and I figure as long as I'm working on them, she shouldn't have any reason to complain."

     "Unfortunately, your strategy doesn't seem to be working!"   "Then what's her real reason for complaining?"   "She thinks she has several.  You're American and you got this job that she wanted somebody else to have."  "Who?"   "Another costumer that she's worked with for years."   "You?"
 "No, someone else."  Before I could comment any further, he noticed my pile of books on the corner of the table and asked, "What are these?"

     "Oh, just some books my brother Pete sent.  I just got them today."  "Books on conversational French?  Why would you need these?  I thought you knew our French language, or DO you?"   "Well, you know it never hurts to review.  Besides, I wanted to see if I could find some choice words or expressions to describe Carlotta."   He laughed and then said, "Well, I'll leave you to enjoy your break."  He turned and left the room.

     I waited a moment, and then walked to the door and quietly closed it and went back to my work table and opened up the first book on top of the pile.  I then went to my purse, and taking out a small notepad I started to write some notes in it while keeping my eye on the clock at the same time.  At exactly five-forty-five, I put my book and notepad down, picked up the pair of pants that I had been working on and resumed sewing.

     The next time I looked at the clock, it was after eight.  I had just finished putting the waistband on the pair of pants I had been working on when I heard Maestro's voice.  "Good evening, Roberta."  It had been so quiet that evening and I had been concentrating on my sewing so hard that his voice startled me--so much so that I nearly jumped out of my chair.  He continued, "Forgive me.  I did not mean to frighten you."

     I quickly stood up and then said, "That's all right, Maestro.  I didn't realize how late it was getting.  Are you ready for your first lesson?"  "Yes.  Where should we go to have it?"  "How about right here?  Here, let me clear off a space for us."  I quickly piled up my sewing and put it on a corner of the table.  I then got the chair that Jean-Baptiste had used earlier and placed it next to the one I had been sitting in.  I motioned for Maestro to sit down next to me.

        I got my purse and took out the notepad I had been writing in earlier and sat down.  Maestro sat down next to me.  Then I said, "I don't know how much you know about English but there are several varieties of English in the world.  There is British English which is used most often here in Europe as well as Asia and Africa but there is also American English, which I use since I'm American and there is also Canadian English and Australian English.  There is even Irish English and Scottish English.  I'm going to teach you as much as I can but I'll probably be using American English more than the other varieties."

     "English sounds so complicated, even difficult," he replied.  Even though I was unable to see his face since it was hidden by the mask that he wore, I was able to see his eyes.  They seemed to be opened wider that I had seen them before.  I thought to myself, is he really scared or is he just excited about learning something new?  "Oh, it's not that bad.  the spelling is sometimes complicated and some of the pronunciations differ but the basic vocabulary is the same for all the varieties of English.  Besides, it's one of the easiest languages to learn," I smiled as I replied.  Then I became more serious.  "Maestro," I continued, "before we begin our lessons, I'd like to ask you something.  I noticed in our previous conversations that you speak French a little differently from other French speakers.  In fact, your French sounds very much like mine but I know that you're not an English speaker.  Otherwise, you would have no need of lessons.  I guess what I'm trying to ask is where are you from originally?"

     He remained silent for a moment and then spoke, "Your ears are very perceptive.  You are correct that I am not a native French speaker.  I am from Yugoslavia,"   The reader must keep in mind that, in spite of the Dayton Peace Accord signed back in 1995, the Serbs forcibly reunited the republics that had broken away from the old Yugoslavia back in 1990 with Serbia and Montenegro to re-form a new Yugoslavia in 1999.

     "You're a Serbian?" I asked. "Absolutely not!"  he replied emphatically, "I'm Croatian."  The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice immediately made me feel ashamed for having offended him.  He must have sensed my shame because he softened the tone of his voice when he spoke again.  "Do you know much about Yugoslavia?" he asked.

     "A little," I answered, "But I thought after the civil war ended several years ago and President Clinton pulled our troops out of Bosnia in late 1998 and the Russian-brokered peace treaty that the Serbs signed shortly thereafter, that that was the end of it."  "I'm afraid things aren't that simple in Yugoslavia.  You see, the Serbs and Croatians have never gotten along at all and no amount of treaties or U.N. troops will ever change that.  Besides," he added, smiling as he did so, "I thought that you were going to teach me English and not discuss foreign affairs."

     "You're right, of course.  I'm sorry I got off the subject.  I suppose the first thing you need to know is how to greet someone."  And so, I proceeded to teach him how to say greetings.  I was glad I had taken the time to take some notes before our lesson.  Erik proved to be an excellent student because within thirty minutes, I had taught him everything I had written down earlier that day.  I had to end our first lesson much earlier than I had originally planned ny saying, "Our fist lesson must, unfortunately for us both, end for now.  When do you want to meet again?"

     He answered me with a question of his own.  "How often must we meet in order for me to learn English?" "That depends on how well you want to know the language,' I replied.  "Is once a week enough?" "Oh, no!  Not at all enough!  I would say, especially since you are just starting to learn English, we should meet once a day--at least until you are comfortable with your progress.  After awhile, we can meet less often, say, four times a week.  I know that seems like a lot, but English, easy as it is to learn, can't be learned overnight.  You'll understand that when we get to reading and writing, especially."  "Will I have to know all that besides?" he asked.   "It depends on what you want.  I have always felt that when you do something, you do it right or not at all.  I guess I'm a little picky when it comes to my mother tongue.  I've heard it and seen it mangled so many times by well-meaning non-native speakers and writers that it irritates me to see English so mis-used and even abused."

     "Have you ever taught English before?" he asked. "No, and that's another thing that irritates me.  I don't really know what I'm doing.  I don't have a teaching degree and I hope that I'm teaching you the right way.  I can only hope that I can teach you to avoid the pitfalls that can victimize non-native speakers and that I can teach you enough English well enough that, should you ever find yourself in London or New York or Sydney, that you'll never get into any trouble."

     "I see," he said quietly. "Your first question reminded me of a question I should ask you.  When is my next singing lesson?"   "That depends on you," he answered, smiling again.  "How well do you want to sing?"  "How well do you want me to sing?" I asked, smiling as well. "Better than you can now," he answered.  "That doesn't really answer my question.  How well do you want me to sing?" I persisted. "As well as you possibly can," he replied.  "How long will that take?" I asked.  "At least as long, if not longer, than it will for me to become fluent in English," he answered.  "That long?" I asked incredulously.   "If not longer," he replied.

   "I didn't know my voice was that bad," I said after a moment of silence. "Actually, it isn't terribly bad," he said, as he stood up to leave the room.  "If it were, I wouldn't even try to teach you to sing.  I have found that people who sing fall into two catagories--those that are tone-deaf and unable to sing at all, and even worse, won't admit that they are tone-deaf, and those that are able to sing but that just don't have professional training.  Fortunately, you, like most people, fall into the latter catagory, and what is even better, you admit that your voice isn't perfect and you are willing to do what it takes to improve your voice, even if it means doing boring, breathing exercises.  You ARE doing doing those breathing exercises I gave you, aren't you?"

      I shook my head.  He continued, this time with concern in his voice, "You MUST do those exercises every day because if you don't, you will put stress on your vocal chords, possibly damaging them.  Women's vocal chords are very delicate and can be easily damaged, even ruined if not treated right.  Do you smoke?"  I shook my head again.  "Good!" he continued, "Smoking can ruin vocal chords.  I can't count the number of people I have met who have ruined their vocal chords by smoking.  Do you drink coffee or tea or cola?"  I nodded my head this time.  "Quit drinking that stuff!  Don't drink it anymore!  Those things can also damage your vocal chords.  Replace all of those drinks with water.  In fact, drink lots of water.  Water hydrates the vocal chords.  It lubricates them and makes it much easier to sing.  Do you eat chocolate?"  I nodded my head again.  "Quit eating chocolate!  That's bad for your vocal chords as well.  Do you drink alcohol in any form?"
I drink wine at my meals," I replied, glad to finally say something.

     "Quit that as well!" he said, and then added, "In fact, don't drink alcohol in any form!  It's the opposite of water.  It dries out the vocal chords, making it difficult to sing.  I know you don't believe that.  You've probably seen as many drunks as I have, singing loudly as they stagger along on their paths, but if you notice, they can't stay on pitch, not to mention not being able to sing words coherently.  Alcohol dehydrates the body, including the vocal chords and should always be avoided."

     "I don't mind giving up wine or even tea but I DO mind giving up my coffee and chocolate," I said.   "But you MUST give all of that up, as well as do those breathing exercises, because if you don't, you won't be able to sing nearly as well as I know that you can and will if you do.  You may never be able to sing well enough to be an opera diva but you may be able to become part of the chorus, maybe even well enough to have a supporting role on stage."

"That's hard for me to believe," I said as I got up and gathered my things.  "Before we leave," I continued, "when will we meet again for my next singing lesson?"   "I think that since you will be giving me my next English lesson tomorrow evening, we should have the next singing lesson tomorrow morning, say at seven thirty?  Meet me by the large props on the fourth level basement.  You know the ones I'm referring to--the large backdrops?"

     I nodded my head and then asked, "But won't I get into trouble?  The basement dorrs, except for the door that leads down here to the work rooms and costume and dressing rooms, are all locked.  Besides, I'm getting into trouble for coming in so early and leaving so late."

     "Don't worry about the doors, and as far as Jean-Baptiste is concerned, you won't get into any trouble if you tell him that you will be taking part of the afternoon off.  You'll have to in order to make your lesson plans for my next English lesson.  If you start to schedule your days like that, management can't get angry at the hours you are putting in and besides, you'll be avoiding La Carlotta, and thus avoiding any more problems with the managers."

     "But how will I get my work done and how will I be able to do the exercises you gave me?"
"Haven't you any room at where you are staying?  Do you have a full-length mirror to see if you are doing those exercises correctly?"  I shook my head.  "No to both questions," I replied.  "Is there any way you could find room or even find another place to stay?  Is there any way you could at least get a full-length mirror?"

     "There is a store room on the top floor of the building I live in.  I suppose I could ask the ncierge if I could use it if she isn't.  The only thing is that it's right next to a gypsy family and I don't know if my things will be safe."  "Gypsies?  I've never heard of gypsies living among non-gypsies.  Usually they keep to themselves,"  Erik said, somewhat thoughtfully.  "Well, I don't know if they're gypsies or not but they sure are noisy.  The concierge has lots of trouble thrying to get them to turn down their television and radio."

     "Hmm.  Well, do what you can with those exercises.  They are very important.  Until tomorrow, then,"  He then turned and walked out of the room.  I stooped down and picked up my purse and then stood up and walked out of the room as well, closing the door and turning off the light as I did so.  When I went out into the hallway, I looked around and, as usual, saw nothing.  Now that's really strange, I thought to myself.  Every time he leaves, it's as if he disappears into thin air.  I wish I knew how he does it.  Sometimes I wonder if I'm really dealing with a ghost!