The Second Life of Moztrot

by CrackedInkWell


Chapter 34: Le nozze di Figaro (Act 3)

“Water, Wolfgang?” my butler asked as he held up a pitcher of ice water and a glass in his aura.

“Yes, that would be needed.” Wilfred proceeded to pour a cup for me as I turned to Ms. Melody. “How are you holding up?”

She was shaking her left hoof about, “Numb, but I can still manage. At least we’re halfway done now.”

“Nevertheless, you are doing very well, thank you.” Those last two words were directed towards Wilfred as he passed me the glass. “I know this is a rather boring part of the opera, but it is a necessary evil.”

“Have you ever been to any new operas yourself, Mr. Moztrot?” she asked. “Like for example, that new up-and-comer… uh… Wagner, I think it was? I mean, after Beethoven, such things are getting more attention.”

I told her that I hadn’t had much of a chance to do so because of how busy I had been lately. “If anything, the only source of modern entertainment that I’m getting any real enjoyment out of is either those movies or the phonograph. Both of them have been giving me some idea of what’s new. I for one hope that I can keep up.”

“Why’s that?”

After a gulp of chilly water, I answered. “For example, I have with me copies of every single thing that this Beethoven has written. While I can’t say that every little thing he wrote is a masterpiece, at the same time, there’s no doubt that he’s found a new path in music that I’ve only begun to experiment in. Yet, what Beethoven does in his symphonies and sonatas, is what I should have done. It’s frightening.”

“But that doesn’t mean that you should outright copy his style,” the cellist pointed out. “Yes, his sound did revolutionize the music industry, but that shouldn’t mean that you can’t follow your own. I can tell you, as I used to play and work for him, that I learned something that you should take to heart as well.”

I tilted my head. “And that is?”

“While playing something that is crowd-pleasing is fine, it’s more important to play something that you want to hear. And as somepony that has played everything little thing you wrote, you’ve already accomplished that despite the restrictions of your day. We still love you for it. After all, even Beethoven himself has called you ‘The Poet.’ Besides, while you might not know it, you do have more of a major influence than you realize. Even today, your music still speaks to us, as clearly as the day you wrote it. Composers still study your techniques and style to not only learn how to match you, but how to develop their own.”

“Is that so?” I asked, “What do you think of the opera?”

“Honestly?” I gave a nod, to which she responded, “While I do like Beethoven’s work, this alone is perfection. Nopony has written anything like it before. Perhaps, nopony ever will again.”

“I’d like to concur as well,” said a new voice. Ms. Melody jumped at the sight of a unicorn stallion. “I was hoping I’d have a moment to give you my thoughts on the opera, Mr. Moztrot.”

Humming in thought, my memory flipped backward to find a name to match his face. “Fancy Pants, wasn’t it?”

He nodded awkwardly, “Yes, I… I know we haven’t spoken in quite a long time. But if it’s not too sudden, I’d like to say a few things to you.”

I offered him a seat on the bench before the keyboard, to which he accepted. “Alright, since we’re resting up for the next act, what would you like to talk about?”

“Well… I suppose I owe you an explanation.” He began, “For starters, the past couple of months since your welcoming party, I was angry at you for your behavior. However, the fault was on my end as I didn’t do the research on how you werereallylike and why you drank so heavily. To be honest, I didn’t even consider your… family situation until the newspaper accounts of your Requiem performance in Saltzberg. I honestly didn’t consider that you were grieving. So I should have been more sympathetic on my part. For that, I am sorry.”

“That’s alright,” I patted him on the back. “I’ve been very busy since my return, so I didn’t notice it myself.” I laughed awkwardly. “Still, what do you think of the opera so far?”

“You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen the Marriage of Figaro, but this is by far the best cast and performance that I’ve ever seen. Why, I’d say that if you keep it up through Act Three and Four, you’ll be the toast of Canterlot.”

“Ooh! Will there be any champagne?” I grinned.

He chuckled, “Which leads to my third item: Would you be interested in coming to my dinner party this Sunday? I noticed that is your day off from performing. And don’t worry, I will bring out the best drinks I could get my hooves on just for you.”

“Done!” I shook his hoof. “It’s been a while since I had a chance to have fun. Being able to let my ponytail down for a bit.”

Mr. Pants smiled and turned to the cellist, “Ms. Melody, can I extend the invitation to you as well?”

She shook her head, “Afraid not, I’ve made a promise to my roommate to attend a jam session on Sunday.”

I tilted my head in perplexity. “Huh, I didn’t know that were sessions on making jam. Who knew?”

Ms. Melody facehoofed, “You know, I keep forgetting that you’re from the eighth century. But I’ll explain it to you later, after the performance.”

“Well anyway,” Fancy got up once more. “I wish you luck on the rest of the performance, so far, it’s been wonderful to hear you conduct it.” He bowed to me before he left.

The rest of the intermission, I went among the orchestra, giving them advice and warnings on what to watch out for in the next act. Eventually, Wilfred informed me that we were ready to begin. After returning to my seat, I noticed how that the stage setting had changed to two cushioned chairs placed at the very top of the staircase upon the second floor. Along the guard, railings were wreaths of roses and white silk that encompassed the foyer.

Once the audience has quieted down, Act Three began with the words from the Count that echoed from the library. “What a mix-up this is! An anonymous letter… The maid locked in the dressing-room… My lady flustered…” Now the audience can see him clearly as he walked into the foyer as he continued to mull over his confusion. “A pony jumping from the balcony into the garden… Then another who claims that it was he… I don’t know what to think.” The unicorn paused, putting a hoof underneath his chin. “It might have been one of my vassals. Such a herd are bold enough. But the Countess…” He shook his head, “To doubt her is an insult. She has too much respect for herself and for my honor…” Then the Count looked up at the thrones at the top of the staircase. “Honor…? What has ponykind’s frailty done with it?”

Over by the second floor, just above the Count, Susanna and the Countess peer through. “Take courage,” her ladyship advised her. “Tell him to meet you in the garden.” While the husband mused if he should find out if the Page-Colt has truly been sent away, Susanna asked the wife about Figaro. She advises her to say nothing as the Countess has a new plan. Since the original idea with Cherubino has been discovered, she decides to go in his place.

Gathering her courage, Susanna went down the stairs to get the Count’s attention. The maid asked him if he knew where there were any smelling salts because his wife was feeling rather faint. After giving the box to her, the Count said that she may keep it.

Such ailments are not for girls in my position.” She points it out.

A filly who loses her bridegroom on the point of winning him…” He tries to kiss her hoof but she pulls away.

Paying Marcellina with the dowry you promised me.”

“That I promised you?” he blinked. “When?”

That’s what I understood.”

Yes,” his lordship mused. “If you had cared to come to an understanding.”

It’s my duty, and my lord’s wish is my command.

The Count’s eyes widen, realizing what she is implying. The two of them have a duet came to the conclusion that yes, indeed, Susanna will come to meet with him in the garden. While he sang with relief and joy, his wife overhead, however, looking as if her heart was shattered to the point that she had to leave. Meanwhile, while the maid tried to put up an act for him, there was something in her singing as if she was sickened inside by the situation. Still, she did promise that she would come without fail, prompting him to kiss her.

After the duet, the Count did ask, “Then why were you so distant to me this morning?”

With the page there…

And to Basilio, who spoke on my behalf?

But what need have we of Basilio?”

He smirked, “That’s true, indeed. Promise me again, if you fail me, my dear…” As he was kissing her neck, a thought came to him. “But the Countess will be waiting for the smelling salts.”

“That was just an excuse: I couldn’t have spoken to you without one.

Just then, the maid heard someone coming so the Count hid behind a curtain right before Figaro entered the room while she walked back up the stairs.

Susanna,” the valet inquired as he flew up to her. “Where are you going?”

Hush,” she replied in a whispered tone. “You’ve won your case without a lawyer.”

What happened?” he asked as the couple walked away from the foyer.

You’ve won your case!” The Count walked out from his hiding place, realized that he had been tricked. In a rage, he sang that because these traitors had done this, he will feel pleased about punishing them by having Figaro marry Marcellina. “Must I see a serf of mine made happy while I am left to sigh?” he questions in his aria. “Am I to see a base servant united in love to the mare I desire, who roused in me a passion she does not feel for me? Ah no! I will not give you the satisfaction of this contentment! You were not born, bold fellow, to cause me torment and indeed to laugh at my humiliation.

As he was singing this aria, I could sense uneasiness among the audience, as if they were being forced to look into a mirror of their own sins. Now that I looked down at them like a god, it’s almost too easy to tell which one of these elite ponies are guilty for the same vice as the Count.

Once his aria had concluded, Figaro, the doctor, his housekeeper, and the music teacher walked in with the final ultimatum for the valet: Pay up or marry her. Even when Figaro pleads his appeal to his lordship, he agrees with the judgment. However, the valet still refused to marry Marcellina.

“Pay up, or marry her.” The music teacher insisted. “She lent you two thousand bits in silver.”

Just then, Figaro gets an idea, “I am of gentle birth,” he said with a cunning smile. “And without the consent of my noble parents…”

Where are they?” the Count asked, “Who are they?

Let me go on looking: in ten years I hope to find them.

Were you found at birth?” the old doctor inquired.

No, lost, doctor,” answered Figaro. As he spoke, the doctor’s housekeeper began to realize something. “Or rather stolen.” His debtors asked what he meant and if he has any evidence to back it up. “The gold, jewels, and embroidered clothes which, in my infancy, the bandits found upon me are the true indications of my noble birth, and moreover, this mark upon my foreleg.”

“A birthmark on your right foreleg?” the old housekeeper asked.

Figaro paused as he raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”

“Great heavens!” she exclaimed. “It is he!” they all asked her what she was going on about. “Raffaello.”

With that one word, the doctor asked Figaro about the robbers that stolen him. To which he replies that it was by a castle. With this realization too, the doctor was in shock as he told him that Marcellina, his old housekeeper, is his mother. Even Figaro couldn’t believe it when she pointed out that the doctor representing her, his father.

Now realizing that she’s his mother, Marcellina embraces her long-lost son. While the music teacher and the Count were astounded by this revelation, and realizing that the wedding between them can’t go on, Susanna comes rushing in with a bag full of bits. She comes in to plead to the count that she can pay off her husband-to-be’s debt. However, she came poorly timed as she saw that Figaro was hugging Marcellina, thereby misinterpreting what was happening.

“Already reconciled to her as a wife?” the maid was disgusted, fury filling her cheeks. “Great Heavens, how faithless!” When Figaro sees her and flies over to tell her the good news, she tells him to, “Leave me, wretch!”

Stay a moment.” He pleads, “Listen, my dearest.”

Listen to this!” Susanna slaps him hard in anger, thereby knocking him to the marble floor.

Fortunately, Marcellina calls on Susanna to calm her bitterness as they’ve realized that she and the Doctor were his parents. Of course, the maid couldn’t believe it at first, but as everypony in the room confirmed, her anger gave way to confusion before relief at the good news. However, not everyone was happy by the news as the furious count dragged the music teacher out of the foyer.

The Doctor, now feeling the tremendous responsibility that has been neglected, told his housekeeper that, if she wished, that he would marry her.

Today,”Marcellina suggested. “It can be a double wedding.” She handed over some papers, “Take this contract for the sum you owe me, it is your wedding present.” Susanna in turn, gave her fiancé the purse filled with bits as did his father. Figaro thanks them for the gifts while his wife-to-be suggests going to find the Countess and her uncle to tell them what has happened in their relieved happiness.

As the four of them leave, two characters walked into the foyer from the kitchen, an adorable young sky-blue mare dragging the page colt by the foreleg. “Come, dear page,” she sang. “In our house you’ll find the prettiest fillies on the estate, and you shall be the prettiest of them all.”

Cherubino however, looked about the room in a panic. “But woe to me if the Count should find me. You know he thinks I’ve already left.”

“Oh well, if he does find you it won’t be anything new,” she points out as he drags him towards the front door. “Listen! We’re going to dress you like one of us. Then we’ll all go to present flowers to our lady. Cherubino,” she patted his head. “Have faith in Barbarina.” With that, the two of them make their escape out of the house.

The Countess returns from the second floor but is disappointed to find that the foyer is empty.

“Susanna has not come,” she sang as she headed towards the thrones at the top of the staircase. “I’m impatient to know what the Count said to her proposal. The plan seems to me somewhat rash, and with a husband so reckless and jealous!”

Glancing at her husband’s seat, she thought aloud, “But… where’s the harm? To change my clothes with those of Susanna, and hers with mine, under cover of darkness…” Then she slowly walks down the steps of the stairs. “Oh heavens! To what humiliation am I reduced by a cruel husband! In a strange mixture of infidelity, jealousy, and disdain, he first loved me.” Pausing to sit down, she added, “Then neglected me, and finally deceived me. He now forces me to seek help from my servant!”

For one moment of silence, she took out a locket that held the picture of her once beloved. “Where are those happy moments of sweetness and pleasure? Where have they gone, those vows of a deceiving tongue?” Dropping the locket upon the steps, she covers her face to withhold her tears. “Then why, if everything for me is changing to tears of grief, has the memory of that happiness not faded from my breast?” As she repeated those verses, I glanced at the audience to notice how some of the wives were doing their best to keep their eyes dry as they read the translation. But the Countess, while feeling weakened, stood up with determination. “Ah! If only my constancy in yearning for him lovingly could bring hope of changing his ungrateful heart!” Ah yes, as she repeated this final line, her confidence was reborn from the ashes of her heart. She will get her spouse back, one way or another.

Out from the kitchen doors, the Count and the Gardener walked across the foyer, neither noticing the Countess who was on the stairs. The Gardener voiced his suspicions that the Page Colt is still in the palace, and has the cap to prove it. Not only that, but according to him, he divested his own clothing to steal a mare’s outfit. He wants the Count to see this as they go through the front door.

Meanwhile, Susanna enters but hides until his lordship leaves so that she may come out.

What did the Count say then?” the Countess asked as the two of them were alone.

You could read his anger in his face.”

Gently now,” her ladyship advised. “It will be easier to catch him. Where is the rendezvous that you suggested?

“In the garden.”

The Countess smiled as an idea began to form in her head. “Let’s fix a place for it. Write to him.”

I write?” her maid blinked, “But my lady-”

Write, I tell you, and I’ll take it all upon myself.” While she sat on the step of the stairs, Susanna takes out a small notebook with a pen. “A song to the Zephyr.”

Out of the oboes and clarinets, an airy melody emerged as Susanna repeats, “To the Zephyr.

‘How sweet the breeze…’” the Countess begins to dictate.

The breeze,” her maid repeats as she scribbles it down.

“‘…. Will be this evening…’

“Be this evening.”

“‘…. In the pine grove.’

In the pine grove?”

The Countess nodded, “In the pine grove.” With a smile, she adds, “The rest he’ll understand.”

Once the note was written up, Susanna gave the letter to her ladyship to review it. What follows… honestly, to me, is the most memorable thing in the entire opera. These two mares, these actresses had the right voices to give that hypnotic effect to those who hear it. Off the walls of the rotunda, the heavenly sound bounced while they wove their gorgeous tapestry of harmony. Why, sirens of old wish they could sing a spell like these two in that moment of bliss.

But I’m rambling on.

After the note was folded, Susanna realized that she had nothing to seal it with. To which, the Countess pulled out a hairpin. “Wait.” Her ladyship adds, “Write on the back of the letter: ‘Send back the seal.’’

Then her ears perked up as she heard ponies coming to the front door. Once opened, a rush of young fillies holding flowers came towards the mares. In the chorus, they sang to the Countess to accept the roses as a token of their affection. Barbarina was in the lead, presenting her rose to her, “These my lady, are the fillies of the district. They offer what little they have and beg pardon for being so bold.” While the Countess thanked them, she was rather curious about one particular “filly” that seems to hide “her” face underneath a straw hat. “That’s one of my cousins,” young Barbarina explained. “Who’s come yesterday evening for the wedding."

We should honor this fair stranger.” The Countess smiled as she bid the stranger to draw near and to let her the flower. She chuckles when the “cousin” jerked a foreleg over to present the flower. “How she blushes! Susanna, don’t you think she resembles someone?”

Just then, the Gardener and the Count bursts into the foyer, “There you are!” the gardener pulls off the straw hat to reveal an embarrassed Cherubino. “There’s your officer!”

The Count turned to his wife. “Well, madam?

My lord, I am as annoyed and surprised as you are.”

He raises an eyebrow, “But this morning…”

She quickly thinks up the excuse that they wanted to dress him up for the party after the wedding. Thus, the Count, with rage in his voice turned to the colt, questioning why he hadn’t left yet. But fortunately, Barbarina intervenes. “Your lordship,” she slips over to his side, “You’ve told me so often when you caressed and kissed me: ‘Barbarina, if you love me I’ll give you whatever you want.’

Two things at once happened when she sang this line: the first was that the Countess gave him a death glare as if she were mere seconds away from murdering him on the spot. The other was from the audience in which I could practically hear every plothole in the room uncomfortably shut tight. I wonder why.

I-I said that?” the Count asked.

You did. So please give me, sir, Cherubino for a husband, and I’ll love you as I love my kitten.”

Well, now it’s your turn,” his wife exclaimed through her teeth as she stormed out of the room.

The Count turned to the page colt as he lit up his horn to drag him out of the foyer as well. “Well done, my ‘filly!’ You’ve learned your lesson well. What pony, demon or god turns everything against me?”

Just then, Figaro comes in, telling the Count that if they keep these other fillies here, there’ll be no party or dancing. This gave his lordship pause as he thought that his valet has an injured hoof. After taking a leap in the air, he tells him that it doesn’t hurt anymore. Figaro tries to have the other fillies, including Cherubino to get ready for the wedding, but the Count and the Gardener stop him to question him about the colt.

Here’s someone who says my nephew-to-be is a liar,” the gardener sang as he took off the straw hat and places the military cap upon the colt’s head.

Figaro acts surprised and asked for his story.

No story,” the Count replies, “but he says he jumped on the carnations this morning.

He says so?” Figaro gestured over to the gardener. “Well, if I jumped, it is possible that he too could have done the same.

He too?

Why not? I never dispute what I don’t know.” Just then, a marching melody came from outside of the mansion. “There’s the march, let’s go. Take your places, ladies.” He reached over to his wife-to-be, “Susanna, give me your arm.” The two of them, plus Barbarina and Cherubino follow them out the front door as the music was getting louder.

Such presumption!” the Count grumbled as his wife comes into the foyer. “My lady-”

Say no more now!” she responds coldly. “Here are two couples: we must receive them. One especially has your protection. Let’s sit.”

Let’s sit,” he too agreed coldly. “And plan my revenge.” The two of them walked up on opposite sides of the staircase so that they may sit on their thrones. From outside, the march became louder until, at the crescendo, the front door opened to a procession of the chorus. Barbarina and Cherubino marked the path for the couples, tossing white petals about before they sang their praises to the Count.

Faithful and honorable fillies, sing praises to your wise lord. By renouncing a right which outraged and offended, he leaves you pure for your lovers.

As these two sang, Figaro and Susanna with the doctor and his housekeeper marched in, hoof in hoof. They walked up both staircases to the top, where they were married.

From the chorus, the three couples walked down the stairs as the tossed-up flower petals and rice. “Let us sing praises to our wise lord!” Now on the marble floor, the three of them performed a minuet. Strings and winds carried out this elegant dance as they gracefully moved about. At one point, Susanna hands the Count the note, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Figaro.

The Count, taking the note, had to leave the dance floor to open it. However, not without pricking his hoof, “Just like a mare, to stick pins everywhere.” He opens it, “Ah, ha! I see her meaning.”

Figaro raises an eyebrow in suspicion. “Some flirt, in passing, has slipped him a love letter sealed with a pin. It has pricked his hoof.” His newly wedded wife slips over to his side, he masks his concern with a smirk as their Count goes to his wife. “Our Narcissus is looking for her; what fun!

The Count climbs the stairs, however, as he raises a hoof to get everypony’s attention. “Now go friends, and let the wedding celebration be arranged for this evening with the richest ceremony. I wish there to be a splendid entertainment, with singing and fireworks, a grand banquet and a grand ball. You shall see how I treat those dear to me.

To this, the chorus congratulates the couples while singing praises to the Count and the wife who exits the room unexpectedly. Although they too began to leave through the front door, leaving only the two couples behind, their cheers and congratulations still rang as the third act came to a close.

Faithful and honorable fillies, sing praises to your wise lord. By renouncing a right which outraged and offended, he leaves you pure for your lovers.

At the final chords, I also noticed that a mare in the audience got up and left in a full rage before the stallion next to her rushed after her. I told the audience that the final act will commence in ten minutes, but my curiosity also compelled me to go see what that sudden anger from that mare was about.