It was in the middle of winter, November 1st, 1804. In an old shabby little home. The wood of the house is rotten and decaying. The snow was coming through a big hole in the roof, and inside was a man standing next to a seven-year-old girl, trying to comfort the child while she cried her eyes out hugging her half-dead mother. Who only had minutes left until her death.

"But mamma! I do not want you to leave me!" stuttered the young girl. Her emerald green eyes red and puffy from hours of crying. Her raven black hair parted into two low pigtails. Skin as white as snow, with brown freckles across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. The young girl's mother placed a shaky hand on her daughter's cheek.

"I am sorry Emma. Mommy is going to have to go away for a while. But I will always" the woman paused to catch the last of her breath and looked at her daughter with loving eyes. "be in your heart," Emma's mother said. Just like that, she was gone. It was like she went to sleep. Emma thought it wasn't fair for her to just leave her here and for her mother to not take her with her.

"No! Mother!! Mama! Do not leave me!!!" screamed Emma. The man stood as he was before. His head down in despair. They had little time to arrange a funeral, only five people there, the priest, the men to lower the coffin into the earth, Emma, and Mr. Giry. The service was quiet, all you could hear was the sound of the young Emma's crying. The priest closed the prayer and the gravediggers started shoveling dirt into the grave to cover the coffin. Some three hours later Emma was watching Mr. Giry pack the little possessions she had in the house. Emma hurriedly grabbed her mother's cross that was on her nightstand before anyone could sell it away. Tucking it into her dress pocket. "Come, Emma, the carriage is waiting for us." The man said he held Emma's suitcase in one hand and her hand in the other. She was quite the whole time. refusing to talk to him. She had been like this for three hours now. Not arguing at all Emma stepped into the carriage along with the man. "Monsieur Giry. I am going to stay with you since I have nowhere else to stay?" she kept looking straight ahead not sparing him a glance. Mr. Giry shook his head, looking at her with pity. The child had lost everything even though it was little, it had great value to her, her house, the river near the house. Her mother's garden...her mother.  "No my child you are going to stay with my Wife. I know you do not know her well, but i am sure you remember visiting with her and playing with Meg right?" Emma nodded, remembering those springs where she would visit the Populaire and play with Meg, her mother was always busy teaching other girls so Emma never really got to know her. Mr. Giry added on to his sentence "She is very kind and will take care of you." He said Emma had no emotion on her face as she said "So I am going to live with you and your family?"

"Oh no my dear girl, She is a ballet instructor at the Opera Populaire. You will be living there and will study to be a ballerina.'' The drive to the Populaire was a quiet ride. When they met their destination, Madame Giry stood at the entrance doors to the Opera house waiting for their arrival. It has been nine years. Emma Silverson is now working at the Opera house as a ballerina. And that is where our story begins.