Farewell, Swaying Melancholy
Three years have passed and still I think of him. I stopped singing the night I left him; I haven't the will to sing since I've lost my Angel. I am not myself, and I believe that I shall never recover. Sometimes when the night is at its darkest, I can still hear him sing.
Raoul does his best to comfort me - dear, sweet man that he is. He is nothing but loyal and patient and is wholly devoted to me, paying me endless little attentions. He desperately wants to see me well; how I wish that I could please him with my recovery! But not even Raoul can drive away the shadows which still darken and prey upon my heart. My fallen Angel still holds my soul.
Papa, why did I believe you? Why did you lie? Why did you promise me something that you knew you could not do? Now I shall never be whole. Help me forgive...
I feel him with me, even though he's gone, and I feel afraid. I do not wish to displease him. I cannot make Raoul understand my fear, although he tries. He is always my defender, willing to fight my battles and conquer my demons, but some demons will never be chased away.
I'm sorry for all I've done. Raoul tells me it's not my fault, though deep inside, I don't believe him. Had I been innocent and good, I may have heard the real Angel of Music. A lifetime of pennance shall never be enough.
Three years have passed and I watch her still. Her child's soul is just as lost and innocent as the night she left me. She is just as lost without me as she was when she was with me. That is why I watch over her from my other-worldly abode. I sing to her at night, though I don't think she always hears me. At least I can truly be her Angel of Music now.
She is now the Viscomtesse de Chagny, and I cannot say that I am disappointed. I've seen how the boy treats her and I am actually rather impressed. He lives for her comfort and treats her with kind understanding. He is both lover and protector and does a noble job at both. Though I think he knows that her love is still divided, even after these three years. Even so, he remains steadfastly by her side. The boy is worth more credit than I ever gave him.
Christine is still mine; I can read it in her distant eyes. I can hear it in the way she sighs. She no longer sings; her music died apart from me, as did mine apart from her. We shall always be bound to one another, as Fate is a cruel mistress. My spirit lives on for her in hopes that she will one day sing once again for her Angel.
Her chains are still mine...