Firmin raised his arms with definition. They came down in one swift movement, then up once more. Thus he continued until the entire overture of "La Fille du Regiment" was finished. Firmin wasn't aware of it, but his wife, Cecile, was in attendance at the opera that night. She looked on with a sad and loving stare. She had just finished her 13 hours at the factory, and felt like seeing her husband for once in a while. She thought highly of him and loved him so. Money was scarce, and she had to sneak into the theatre. The bouncer knew her and let her in because of the pity he had for her. It was a sorry sight to see a woman in her thirties with the ability to reproduce, but lacking one thing, her husband. Cecile had to get up early in the morning in order to get to the factory on time. She woke just as Firmin was entering the bed. She would give him a quick kiss and continue to dress for her job. When she would come home, he would still be at work, conducting. After years of sleeping in their bed alone, she dressed in a nice gown and decided on seeing him. Firmin worked as director and movement choreographer at the Vienna Opera House. They had moved to Austria for its rich musical background right after college. After a few odd jobs Firmin was recieved as a stage manager at the Opera House. He worked diligently, although he resented being in such a demeaning situation, but money was money, and he had to start somewhere. He worked long, hard hours, barely seeing his newlywed wife, but it kept food on the table, no matter how little there was of food. Firmin's waist shrunk after college. He didn't have the luxury of keeping himself overweight with excesse food anymore. If Vienna wasn't so expensive he could have afforded a child, but being in a financial bind he would never be able to. He was relieved when he recieved the job as a conductor. His salary went up, but not by much until he was in his fifth year. Cecile decided that she would help with the cost of living, and thus began her job at the factory. There lives were content, yet miserable. Both wished for more money and a better life, but nothing arose.
One day Firmin recieved a letter in the mail. It was his old compainion Armand Moncharmin. Armand discussed his life and how he was working for a high noble, although he mentioned nothing of the glasses adorning his brow, nor the weigh hanging onto his bones. Firmin decided that Armand should pay him a visit. He invited him with the hopes that perhaps he'd say no. Cecile, after reading the letter, warned him about inviting Armand.
"Firmin, you are crazy." Firmin sat down on the bed and crawled in after a long day.
"Please, Cecile, try to understand that Armand and I have been the best of friends for years. It would be rude of me not to." She stomped over to him.
"Firmin, it's not that I'm objected to you inviting Armand, it's just that we are so poor. We would have no food, no room in this small home, and no time to spend with him." Firmin's eyelids were growing heavy, but he struggled just so that he could talk to his wife.
"Armand isn't a lavish man, he'd enjoy our small home. Also, I knew him well in college, he doesn't eat that much...he's very thin, so we won't have to worry about feeding him much. And last, he probably is never busy at that castle, give him some books to read and he will be content. Now please let me sleep!" She walked away shaking her head.
"I still don't think it's a good idea. You'll see." She then left for work, still pondering about Armand.
Two weeks went by since their talk and Firmin was delighted to read that Armand's employer was taking a holiday in Scotland, which left Armand free to stay with Firmin and Cecile for two weeks. Firmin was overjoyed to finally be able to see his college buddy again.. He counted down the days until Armand's arrival. Firmin also instructed his wife to quit her job at the factory. He wanted to create the facade that he could well support his own wife. Cecile, being a very compliant woman, did so and regretted it from the moment the words "I quit" rolled reluctantly off her tongue.
Finally, the day arose and Firmin rushed to the trainstation in order to greet his friend.
* * * * *
Armand had received word that the noble was going to take a vacation in Edinburough, Scotland. Armand was instructed to stay at the castle. After the first day, his work was finished and he had the rest of the time off. Without word, and risking his job, Armand left for Vienna. He picked up some of the finest wine for Firmin, in Koblenz, Germany, on his way, and within 3 long, tiring days, he arrived in Vienna. As he exited the train with his large bag, he regarded his watch in dismay. Although it was good news, he was distraught that the train had arrived an hour early. Armand set his bag down and sat heavily on a bench. He chose to wait for Firmin, but after 10 minutes he decided to just meet him at his home. Armand carried the letter with him and summond the coach to take him to the address shown. The driver looked at the letter a moment, cocking his head, and stood back looking at Armand in his fine clothes, and then laughed in his face.
"What?" Armand demanded, sounding very British in Austria.
"Sorry, Herr Moncharmin, but you look like a well off gentleman....right?" The coachman asked while helping the heavy man into the carriage as it began a downpour of thick drops.
"If you must know, yes, I am of the upper class. Why in the world do you ask?" Armand demanded as he moved away from the opened window.
"Well, sir, this is a very bad part of town...a man of your stature would never travel it alone at night, if you understand." The coachman said as he handed back the letter.
"Bloody Hell, man, this is my best comrade who lives at this address! I care nothing of your gypsy tales...take me there immediately! Or shall I call someone who will?" Armand shouted as his face turned scarlet in anger. The coachman lowered his gaze and turned to the horses.
"I'm terrible sorry, sir, I was just trying to warn you of what you are...."
"Yes, thank you, please, let's go!" The coachman mounted the seat and whipped the horses into a trot.
Within fifteen minutes, Armand arrived at Firmin's home. He looked out the carriage window in disgust. There stood a small town house, burned in soot, with a small patch of flowers in front, which gave life to the dismal home. It had a small window which was cracked by some rock, Armand guessed, and a wooden door which splintered from the harsh winter. It was one floor and looked as though it had been abandoned. Armand searched for the address, then compared what he saw to the letter, but to his dismay it was correct. Armand opened the window and shouted up.
"Driver, this can't be correct. My friend is the director at the Vienna Opera House, he must make more than this." He said motioning to the dark home. The driver just shrugged. Cecile came to the door which opened with a creak. Armand's hope sunk as she smiled humbly and beaconed Armand to enter. Armand sat for a moment in disbelief, then swallowed harshly and prepared himself for a week of what would be Hell for him. He opened the door as the coachman made himself busy with Armand's bag. Armand took a grand sweep with his cloak and made an extravagant entrance. Cecile quickly hid her smile and a quick giggle behind a cough as she took Armand's bag.
"Cecile...hello. It's been so long!" Armand said as he gave her a tight embrace and a small, but gentle, kiss on her cheek.
"Yes, it's good to see you Armand. Thank you. I'm afraid that Firmin has already gone to recieve you at the trainstation." She took his wet cloak and hung it by the door while she smiled largely at the weight Armand had put on.
"Oh, darn, well, he'll return soon...right?" He asked while he dug in his bag for the wine.
"Um, yes, I'm sure he will. In the mean time, would you like some tea, or cake....have you eated yet?" Armand found the bottle and adorned his nose with the small glasses as he examined the label.
"Oh, yes, sorry, I did eat on the train, however, a cup of tea would be wonderful. Here is a bottle of the finest wine in Deutshland. I thought we could have it later." She took it with a smile and busied herself with the tea. "So, how is Firmin? His letter wasn't very detailed." She lit the stove and placed the water on the top.
"Oh, well, he's good. He just received a promontion to help with the box office, but he's not very good at math, so he declined it." Armand smiled remembering his old friend.
"Is he still a practical joker....is he still fat?" She gave a painful smile.
"Actually, he's quite thin, and hasn't smiled much in the past month or so..." Both became uncomfortably silent for a few moments past. "Oh, here's your tea...would you like some sugar?" She asked while setting things down on the small table.
"Thank you." He chose some sugar cubes and took a sip, smiling. "It's very good. I was just wondering if there is an English paper around here that I could read?" She gave a start and looked abashed.
"Oh, well, we don't get the paper, but I could run to the market and buy you one. Would you like that?" She asked while she headed for her coat.
"No, that won't be necessary. I'd, actually, prefer to retire to my chamber for the night. It's been a hard and long, few days." She smiled and showed him to his room. She could see his disappointment at the lack of space, but could do nothing for him. She closed the door and began cleaning the kitchen.
It was very late when Firmin entered, dripping with water. Cecile gave a start, but then ran to her husband in dismay.
"My God, Firmin dear, you're absolutely soaked. Get out of these clothes!" Firmin shrugged her off and held his hands up against her. His eyes were wild.
"I couldn't find him!" He shouted.
"No, darling, he's here. He arrived early and took a coach to our home." He sighed in relief and allowed her to peel his clothes off. "He's sleeping, so keep your voice down."
"How does he look? How is he? Was he disappointed at our small home?" Cecile gave a loving stare and a sweet smile.
"Firmin, please, let's not discuss it. You'll see him in the morning when he wakes. But, for now let's get you to bed and warmed up." She took his arm and lead him to the bed. After they both changed she entered the bed and fell immediately to sleep.
Firmin stayed awake. His mind was filled with questions. What did his old friend think of the tiny home? Was he going to stay? How did he look? Does he have a family? Firmin walked out to the kitchen, which wasn't a long walk in their home. He immediately looked to the door where he knew Armand was sleeping behind. He wanted to look in on his old friend, but he remembered that Armand was a very light sleeper, and he didn't want to wake him, so he walked silently through the house. As he went by the front door, his eyes fell upon the cloak. He looked at it with admiration as he examined the tag and stroked the fine wool. Suddenly his hand recoiled in fear. Armand was somewhat modest and hadn't mentioned that he had become rich. Firmin remembered that Armand used to be poor, and that he had to work very hard just to attend the university. 'So,' Firmin thought, 'he's now very rich.' Firmin closed his eyes from the pain that thought endured. Armand had risen finacially, but Firmin had become poor. He slowly made his way back to bed, but not without whispering into the darkness, "It appears we all have changed, my friend."