This is proof that it IS dangerous to make children take Social Studies tests. Their minds wander and they don't come back…
Madame Giry began to rub her temples. It had been a very long day. One of her ballet students had asked her, her first name…and Madame Giry simply couldn't remember. As frustrating as that was, it was understandable. No one had called her anything but Madame Giry since… well… a very long time.
If that wasn't infuriating enough, the ballet rats were somehow unable to master scene three in Il Muto, which she persistently tried to call something else
"Madame Giry!" She continued to rub her temples.
"Madame Giry!" She had the sudden urge to scream, 'hands at the level of your eyes'.
"MADAM GIRY!" She jumped and turned to look at Andre who was now an interesting shade of chartreuse.
"Madame Giry, did you not here me? The patron has called a meeting and thinks you should be there!"
Madame Giry doubted her current competence. She thought her name was Mama Valerius for a moment…
Madame Giry realized she had been walking blindly when she found herself at the door to the manager's office. Had Andre told her to go there? Why doesn't anyone refer to him by his last name? 'He must remember both names,' she thought bitterly.
"Ah, Madame Giry, you have arrived!" crowed the Raoul de Chagny with just the slightest stitch of pomposity. "Perhaps you can enlighten us as to the whereabouts of our mysterious friend."
Madame Giry felt slightly guilty. Christine Daae was like a daughter to her and she was in danger.
"The phantom? Yes, I knew him in- in…"
The faces of Raoul, Andre, and Firmin must have reflected the confusion in her own. She was about to say 'in Persia', but she had never been to Persia and doubted Erik had ever been there either…
"I knew him in the…circus of traveling Persians- I mean gypsies where I rescued him from the Sha- cruel gypsy."
The Vicomte liked slightly annoyed. "That was a rather disjointed explanation. What is it we are to believe?"
Madame Giry threw her hands into the air and cried, "How should I know?" Her words were followed by a speedy get-away.
A few minutes later Madame Giry found herself finally lucid again. Strangely enough, she had been fluffing the pillows in Box Five as the bemused attendant looked on. Madame Giry fell into the chair with a final cry of frustration, closed her eyes, and began to breathe deeply.
Meanwhile, Erik, encased in the hollow pillar, greatly wished that there was enough room in there to reach up and rub his temples (apparently not realizing his temples were also encased-in his mask). His plan had counted on Madame Giry telling the boy his whereabouts. Of course, they had also counted on her sanity, which was currently in question… This job was much easier when everyone else was sane.