Look, there she is! The girl-bride attired in spotless white. Isn't she pure? Isn't she lovely?
People gawp openly at her from either side, pointing and whispering. She doesn't seem to mind, or perhaps she does not notice it at all. She keeps her eyes on the ground, her veil drawn over her face. She looks quietly dignified, but not like a bride at all.
Inside the church, her groom awaits her with the priest. Organ music fills the entire length of the building, echoing off the stonewalls so that the sound is distorted. Now the bride looks up, turning her head this way and that as if she is confused.
Kyrie eleison…Christe eleison…The bride continues her walk to the altar. Her lips move, mouthing the words of the Wedding Mass; her eyes are fixed on the domed ceiling; she looks, but is unable to find.
The groom wonders if she is ill. She looks thin and paler than usual, but it's too late to stop the ceremony now. She arrives at the altar and takes her place next to him. He gives her a reassuring smile that he isn't sure if she returns. The veil blocks her face from him, settling over her features and clouding over them in a lacy mist.
Lord have mercy…The priest speaks but his words mean nothing to either of them. The groom shifts impatiently, desperate for the whole sorry business to be over. The bride stares into the distance, her eyes fixed on a point that only she can see. The priest says something in Latin…then, finally, only the vows are left.
"Raoul De Chagny, do you take Christine Daae to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
"I do." Raoul says it proudly, resolutely. His words have an air of finality.
"Christine Daae, do you take Raoul De Chagny to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I…I do." Christine's words are muffled as if she is crying…or is that just the veil?
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Raoul tentatively reaches out to lift the veil from Christine's face. For a moment, it seems as if she will not let him, but she puts up no resistance and he raises the veil clear. Her face is chalk white and her blue eyes are very bright. She's crying, tears trickling down her cheeks, but she's also smiling through the tears, looking up at her husband. Raoul gently takes her into his arms and presses his lips against hers. Christine doesn't quite return his embrace; her arms remain where they are, by her sides.
Tenderly, he leads her out of the church on his arm. Every so often, he glances down at her and a smile crosses his lips.
"Are you happy?" he asks her continually. She moves her head in a way that is neither a shake nor a nod. She is being cruel to him, she knows, but lying would be even crueller. "I love you, Christine," he says to her, a hint of desperation in his voice.
"I love you too," she replies at last, passively, obediently. It's enough to make him smile, and inside, she winces. The words are sweet but they taste bitter in her mouth. They taste of betrayal.
Forgive me, Erik...
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