The hallway was dark as Raoul paced, almost listening for the familiar swish of his tails that came when he normally walked. But he was wearing only a waistcoat at the moment, and his shoes were elsewhere, so the only sound that permeated the corridor was the sound of his constant murmuring. When he had reached the door once more, a hand reached out of the shadows and caught him by the arm. He jumped and nearly expected to see the yellow eyes from Christine's nightmares, but when he saw a plume waving slowly, he smiled nervously.
"You're impatient. Give her time." The usher smiled back, shoved him away gently, and closed the door behind her. He looked across to the young baroness, still standing so tall that he almost thought she was on her toes. She grinned pleasantly, and went inside to join her mother, leaving Raoul by himself again.
When he was prepared to race into the room, despite the gentle reproaches he would get, Mama Valerius called out to him, and he stepped in. Christine looked exhausted; her hair was limp and loose around her face, but Raoul walked over to her bedside, standing nervously. She looked up at him and smiled faintly.
"I was thinking…" She tilted her head toward him, to get a better view of his face. "What about Raoul?"
He shook his head. "No, that won't work. What about," she grinned, knowing exactly what he was about to say, "Philippe?"
"Philippe is perfect. Magnificent. So Philippe," she said, cooing at him as he lay calmly in her arms, "what are we going to do with you? Will you be a great violinist like your Papa?" Raoul shook his head, quite content in the knowledge that a few lessons with Daae did not make him a musician.
"Or will you be a great singer like your Mama?" Mama Valerius offered, shaking a finger at Philippe's tiny nose.
Madame Giry harrumphed. "You're all being silly. He'll be the emperor of all of Europe."
Christine laughed, but Madame Giry looked back at her with a superior look on her face. "You'll see. I know he will. The Ghost told me so. He sent me a letter before we left Paris, he said, 'Madame Giry, Philippe…' and I don't know how he knew what you'd call him, but this is the Ghost, after all, 'will become emperor of all Europe, just as your daughter rose in status to become a baroness.' Do you doubt it?"
At the mention of the Ghost, Raoul immediately looked at Christine, worried that she might become upset, as she had quite a few times in their first few years of marriage at any mention of Erik, or even of the opera.
But she smiled back at him proudly, stroking the top of Philippe's head. "It's alright, Raoul. He can't touch me now. I won't let him. But someday, maybe when he's a bit older, Philippe will be visited by the Angel of Music. I promise." And she reached down to kiss his hand.