<blockquote>This story begins at the end. The orphan is found by her new family adoptif.
Look: she is here, asleep in a row of plush seats in the Grande Salle, her bare brown feet tucked under the tattered hem of her skirts. Above her soars the painted ceiling and the many chandeliers of the Opéra le Peletier, which is, in the brief time of this story, the national opera of France. Around her stand the members of the production company—the angular Costume Mistress, the rotund Directeur de Théâtre, the seamstresses and the members of the orchestra and the many brawny stagehands—all peering at her intently and holding their breath, as if she is a princess in a tale. There is some debate about turning her out into the streets—for in the time of this story, an extra mouth to feed in Paris could mean hunger for all.</blockquote>
