Not many people attended Christine Daaé's funeral.
It rained. There were whispers that it was proper for Angel tears to be shed on the day that one of their own was returned to the heavens. Christine Daaé was adored by those who knew her as their daughter, Prima Donna, and Raoul's fiancée. The coffin was luminous white and glowed in the soft light of dusk. The gentle rain created rivulets that flowed down the sides of the coffin in tiny, crystal waterfalls.
White roses formed their small bouquets around and on the center of the deathbox. White against white. And at first glance, the scene would almost look like a wedding...if it were not for the people who were dressed in all black. Their heads were bowed solemnly, and their dark umbrellas formed a canopy over Christine's flowers, protecting them from the building storm. Soft weeping could be heard, but the ones who loved the Angel most had no tears in their eyes.
Christine's Mama Valerius was near the front, and she refused to wear black. She held flowers in her hands, but there was a smile on her face and constant, ecstatic cries of, "She has returned to her Angel of Music now! He has taken her up to heaven to be with him! My little Christine is finally going to make music with the Angels as he taught her!"
These cries were greeted with silence and a sympathetic acceptance that the woman must have gone mad with Christine's loss. Her voice finally faded as the priest began to speak...The imposing figure was enough to stop the weeping as well...and all were silent.
Raoul de Chagny stood at the end of Christine's coffin. He did not have an umbrella, and the rain was already soaking him through to the skin. His face held a deathly pallor, and his eyes were empty with only a confused look in the blank recesses and the continuous, denying shock that he had yet to get over. Raoul's hands shook by his sides so violently that he finally clenched his fists to stop them. Everyone at the ceremony watched the Count with pity...while his sisters flanked him like protective hens and dabbed their eyes with fancy, lace handkerchiefs only because it was proper to do so.
The priest spoke prayers and condolences in a dull monotone, and when he finally stopped, each person stepped forward to place a rose on the smooth, pure-white coffin.
Red on white... Purity and love... Grace and beauty...
It was Raoul's turn, and each of his sisters took an arm to support him, as gracious as they were. He did not set the rose on the coffin, but rather it fell from his fingers, and rolled away from the others...into the dirt hole below... His hand was a battlefield of cuts; he hadn't even realized that he'd clutched the rose that tightly in his fist.
He held the rose so tightly...so tightly that he was cut by the thorns...
The gravediggers began to lower the coffin into the ground on top of the rose.
"No!!"
Raoul's agonized cry startled both his sisters and the priest, and he sobbed as he wrenched away from them...in the most despairing, pitiful way. His hands trembled by his face as he cried, "Christine, Christine!! Oh, my God, my Christine! No, please..."
As his sisters tried to bring him back, away from Christine, Raoul once more pulled away...and he threw himself on his beloved's coffin and clutched the roses as he sobbed like a child. His fingers curled in agony as he positioned himself exactly where Christine's head would rest on the satin pillow inside.
Either in shock or out of mere respect, no one came forward to pull Raoul away now...even as he begged for them not to crush the rose he'd gotten for Christine, which had fallen underneath and rested below... He couldn't bear for them to crush the flower that he'd picked out for her, so flawless in its beauty and exactly as she had been. The petals were soft, not unlike her perfumed skin when he held her hand and kissed it--Oh so lightly!
Lightning struck and Raoul's voice was more of a yell, as if he was calling up to heaven itself. "Christine...Christine...!"
The rain was beginning to come down harder. The very few guests cast one last look at poor, broken Raoul de Chagny, and then they went on their way, trailing a pathway back to the main street. The priest took Mama Valerius away as well, and he listened silently as she began to speak of the Angel of Music once more...a name that made Raoul sob even more.
After long moments Danielle, Raoul's older sister, finally tried to take his arm again...and her voice was as sweet as honey. "Raoul, dear...It's raining. You'll catch a cold in this weather...Come on, now..."
His other sister Cecilia was not so patient. "And it's freezing, on top of that. We do have to bury her eventually, Raoul..."
Their little brother made no sound in response, but his hands were still tight around the roses on the coffin...and he refused to move.
As the second priest approached and began to speak to Raoul in low whispers, the sisters moved away to talk amongst themselves.
"He's heartbroken, Cecilia... This is such a horrible tragedy!" Danielle took her handkerchief to dab at her eyes again. They were real tears this time, but not for the dead maiden.
Cecilia sniffed and pulled the hems of her dress closer to her. It was far too muddy to allow anything to drag, even funeral clothing. "We have already gone through one funeral. And at least his poor Christine was not murdered as Philippe was. I don't understand why Raoul is so upset; she didn't breathe a word the moment she stepped foot in our estate! It was improper enough to have her stay with us... despite Raoul's claim that she'd been traumatized. I can't imagine a situation more traumatic than when we learned of our dear Philippe."
"And the ring! Don't forget the ring, Cecilia." Danielle was not mean by nature, but she and Cecilia had both been miffed when Raoul announced his engagement.
"I remember the ring perfectly well. It was a disgrace...to wear another man's ring while she was engaged to a Chagny!"
"It very well could have been a ring that Raoul gave her."
A scowl crossed Cecilia's beautiful face, and she shook her head. "Raoul would never give such a plain ring. Besides..." His sister glanced back to make sure that Raoul was still preoccupied by the priest. "She wore Raoul's around her neck. I saw it."
"Let us hope that no one else did, then." Danielle was not paying so much attention to her sister anymore; however, she was instead watching the receding line of guests. "So few people came...and we're the only ones here now."
But they weren't.
It rained. There were whispers that it was proper for Angel tears to be shed on the day that one of their own was returned to the heavens. Christine Daaé was adored by those who knew her as their daughter, Prima Donna, and Raoul's fiancée. The coffin was luminous white and glowed in the soft light of dusk. The gentle rain created rivulets that flowed down the sides of the coffin in tiny, crystal waterfalls.
White roses formed their small bouquets around and on the center of the deathbox. White against white. And at first glance, the scene would almost look like a wedding...if it were not for the people who were dressed in all black. Their heads were bowed solemnly, and their dark umbrellas formed a canopy over Christine's flowers, protecting them from the building storm. Soft weeping could be heard, but the ones who loved the Angel most had no tears in their eyes.
Christine's Mama Valerius was near the front, and she refused to wear black. She held flowers in her hands, but there was a smile on her face and constant, ecstatic cries of, "She has returned to her Angel of Music now! He has taken her up to heaven to be with him! My little Christine is finally going to make music with the Angels as he taught her!"
These cries were greeted with silence and a sympathetic acceptance that the woman must have gone mad with Christine's loss. Her voice finally faded as the priest began to speak...The imposing figure was enough to stop the weeping as well...and all were silent.
Raoul de Chagny stood at the end of Christine's coffin. He did not have an umbrella, and the rain was already soaking him through to the skin. His face held a deathly pallor, and his eyes were empty with only a confused look in the blank recesses and the continuous, denying shock that he had yet to get over. Raoul's hands shook by his sides so violently that he finally clenched his fists to stop them. Everyone at the ceremony watched the Count with pity...while his sisters flanked him like protective hens and dabbed their eyes with fancy, lace handkerchiefs only because it was proper to do so.
The priest spoke prayers and condolences in a dull monotone, and when he finally stopped, each person stepped forward to place a rose on the smooth, pure-white coffin.
Red on white... Purity and love... Grace and beauty...
It was Raoul's turn, and each of his sisters took an arm to support him, as gracious as they were. He did not set the rose on the coffin, but rather it fell from his fingers, and rolled away from the others...into the dirt hole below... His hand was a battlefield of cuts; he hadn't even realized that he'd clutched the rose that tightly in his fist.
He held the rose so tightly...so tightly that he was cut by the thorns...
The gravediggers began to lower the coffin into the ground on top of the rose.
"No!!"
Raoul's agonized cry startled both his sisters and the priest, and he sobbed as he wrenched away from them...in the most despairing, pitiful way. His hands trembled by his face as he cried, "Christine, Christine!! Oh, my God, my Christine! No, please..."
As his sisters tried to bring him back, away from Christine, Raoul once more pulled away...and he threw himself on his beloved's coffin and clutched the roses as he sobbed like a child. His fingers curled in agony as he positioned himself exactly where Christine's head would rest on the satin pillow inside.
Either in shock or out of mere respect, no one came forward to pull Raoul away now...even as he begged for them not to crush the rose he'd gotten for Christine, which had fallen underneath and rested below... He couldn't bear for them to crush the flower that he'd picked out for her, so flawless in its beauty and exactly as she had been. The petals were soft, not unlike her perfumed skin when he held her hand and kissed it--Oh so lightly!
Lightning struck and Raoul's voice was more of a yell, as if he was calling up to heaven itself. "Christine...Christine...!"
The rain was beginning to come down harder. The very few guests cast one last look at poor, broken Raoul de Chagny, and then they went on their way, trailing a pathway back to the main street. The priest took Mama Valerius away as well, and he listened silently as she began to speak of the Angel of Music once more...a name that made Raoul sob even more.
After long moments Danielle, Raoul's older sister, finally tried to take his arm again...and her voice was as sweet as honey. "Raoul, dear...It's raining. You'll catch a cold in this weather...Come on, now..."
His other sister Cecilia was not so patient. "And it's freezing, on top of that. We do have to bury her eventually, Raoul..."
Their little brother made no sound in response, but his hands were still tight around the roses on the coffin...and he refused to move.
As the second priest approached and began to speak to Raoul in low whispers, the sisters moved away to talk amongst themselves.
"He's heartbroken, Cecilia... This is such a horrible tragedy!" Danielle took her handkerchief to dab at her eyes again. They were real tears this time, but not for the dead maiden.
Cecilia sniffed and pulled the hems of her dress closer to her. It was far too muddy to allow anything to drag, even funeral clothing. "We have already gone through one funeral. And at least his poor Christine was not murdered as Philippe was. I don't understand why Raoul is so upset; she didn't breathe a word the moment she stepped foot in our estate! It was improper enough to have her stay with us... despite Raoul's claim that she'd been traumatized. I can't imagine a situation more traumatic than when we learned of our dear Philippe."
"And the ring! Don't forget the ring, Cecilia." Danielle was not mean by nature, but she and Cecilia had both been miffed when Raoul announced his engagement.
"I remember the ring perfectly well. It was a disgrace...to wear another man's ring while she was engaged to a Chagny!"
"It very well could have been a ring that Raoul gave her."
A scowl crossed Cecilia's beautiful face, and she shook her head. "Raoul would never give such a plain ring. Besides..." His sister glanced back to make sure that Raoul was still preoccupied by the priest. "She wore Raoul's around her neck. I saw it."
"Let us hope that no one else did, then." Danielle was not paying so much attention to her sister anymore; however, she was instead watching the receding line of guests. "So few people came...and we're the only ones here now."
But they weren't.