Erik was walking through the opera house one night after the singers, dancers, and orchestra had gone home. He couldn't sleep and he sometimes liked to just walk about the opera house. The stage was one of his favourite places and he longed to be able to sing from it, although of course it was impossible... Sometimes he just stood there and looked out at the seats in the audience, bereft of people. Certainly even if it were possible to sing there, he would probably be terrified of the audience looking at him, not listening to what he sang, only staring at the mask. Of course all of this was ridiculous.
Tonight the stage was hung with red and pink paper heart, crepe paper and signs saying "Happy Valentine's Day". There was a notice that the entire cast and orchestra were invited to a gala private dance there the following day, which happened to be February 14. Erik read the notice and scoffed. All this foolishness about love...
And yet, perhaps there was hope. Lately, he had begun teaching a young dancer, Christine Daaé, to sing. He had discovered her lovely voice and had determined that he would develop it into its full potential. Her voice entranced him and he started to have feelings for her, feelings he had never before in his life experienced. He wanted to be near her and ...he wanted her to feel the same for him. But he could only teach her, hidden from her view, behind the mirror in her dressing room. Maybe, some day, he would speak to her face to face, but... it would take time and careful planning.
Suddenly he felt a longing to see Christine. She wasn't at the opera house any more tonight of course. Everyone had gone home long ago. But still...he ascended the steps to the place where he always stood to give her the vocal lessons. He touched the mechanism that made the mirror swing open and he entered her dressing room cautiously. He lit the oil lamp on Christine's dressing table.
Erik looked about him and was happy to be in the place where Christine had been only hours before, where she sang for him and where she sat and combed her hair... Erik sat down at her dressing table for a moment, first turning the mirror away so he could not see his own reflection. He glanced down at the dressing table and saw that Christine had been writing letters. His curiosity was piqued, but he looked away. However his eyes kept coming back to the piece of paper. It seemed to have the ethereal scent of her perfume. He pulled the lamp closer and started to read. Of course it would do no harm...especially since the letter was addressed to...My Angel of Music...
It read: Dear Angel of Music, you are indeed a dream come true. My father told me many times that you would come to visit me and teach me how to sing beautifully. Your voice is entrancing and I should love to see you, but I expect that you are incorporeal, considering that you are an angel. I can only thank you in a letter, but I shall leave it here, hoping that you will find it. Your student, Christine Daaé
Erik's eyes widened and he picked up the letter and held it to his heart. Then he noticed another letter sitting on the dressing table. It was in an open envelope. He looked at it and pulled out a card, not a letter. It was a card with a fancy heart on the front, drawn in pinks and reds and sported a tiny picture of a man and woman kissing. Again it smelled of Christine's perfume, a delightful light, and flowery scent. He opened it and read in her handwriting, "To my dearest love, you make my heart beat faster every time I think of you. I long to hear your voice, my darling and I want to tell you how dear you are to my heart. Love, Christine."
Erik read the handwritten sentiment and his heart too, beat faster. So she really did have feelings for him, even though she had not yet seen his face. That of course, was a problem, but not one that couldn't be overcome. He looked again at her beautiful handwriting and the drawing on the front of the elegant card. He carefully put it back in the envelope and was about to put it in the inside pocket of his tail coat when he saw writing on the outside of the envelope. It read: To the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.
Erik's eyes opened wide again and he stared for a moment, then the card dropped from his hands to the dressing table top. He kept looking at it...of course it had been too good to believe... "Love," he mumbled, "what foolishness..." He got up quickly and left the dressing room the same way he had come.
Erik did not see the bead of salty moisture that had fallen on the envelope addressed to the Vicomte and blurred some of the ink spelling out de Chagny's name. ... A lone tear...