Down I plunge after my foolish knave of a brother. His obsession with Mlle. Daae has become quite unhealthy. Christine was supposed to be mine. I've watched her longer and I withstood her pitifully mediocre singing prior to the lessons that transformed her voice to something ethereal and unsuspected.
But my brother, he was smitten at first sight of her and sound of her extraordinary voice. He insisted on meeting with her, and, in the beginning, I did not protest thinking that the "New Margarita," as she was hailed, would not remember him from childhood. How wrong I was. I quickly heard of their rekindled romance when my brother confided in me and asked if perhaps he could borrow some money to propose to her. At his words, my blood ran cold and I shook with fury!
How dare he come to ask for money to become engaged to my beloved! I had supported Christine's career from behind the scenes; persuading the managers to cast her, convincing the other divas that Christine was not so bad. La Sorelli, my favourite diva (aside from Christine of course), responded to my coaxing and became a warm and welcome friend to Christine...so long as they weren't in the public eye. Though they were best friends in the dressing rooms, at auditions they were at war. Such fierceness amongst ladies!
La Carlotta simply had to have a starring part; no surprise she was cast as Margarita in Faust immediately. She could pull every string, raise complaint after complaint to the management, and occasionally she could seat entire audiencesof only "her" people. In the opera business, Carlotta Fonte was indeed a force to be reckoned with, and she was set on destroying my little ballet princess.
As it were, I was a tremendous coward when it came to Christine. When she needed comfort from a man such as myself most, I sent her a small bouquet of pink roses; I was far too petrified to send her red ones, and perhaps if I was feeling exceptionally brave, or she was exceptionally upset then I would speak with her after a performance. Those conversations were short and stiff and often left her just as upset as she was before.
As the months wore on I watched ma petite ange lose her lustrous vibrancy, she lost some of her looks, and it appeared part of her soul. It seemed that she was drowning, but I didn't know how I could help her.
At last my concern for her forced me into talking to my brother, who up until now I had scorned and ridiculed relentlessly on the account of his love.
I saw great distrust in his eyes when I invited him to my private quarters to speak about Mlle. Daae, but there was something else. Some sort of burden dulled his exuberance, his vitality, it appeared that he shared the same burden my dear Christine carried. He answered my questions guardedly, as if protecting a great secret. I recall a bit of it still:
"You look tired," I observed, peering at him over a glass of brandy. I held a glass over to him, which he ignored, so I set it on the table.
"I've not been sleeping well," he replied curtly.
"Mlle. Daae doesn't look well either."
"Opera is a stressful occupation, and I don't see why any of this is your concern," he answered hastily, avoiding the true meaning of the question.
I ignored his last comment, "How are the two of you doing?"
"We are wonderful, it is like we were never separated," his voice mimicked his speech, but his eyes held great sadness and uncertainty.
"How long will this interrogation progress before I retrieve the truth from your young, ignorant brain?" I demanded sharply. He released a defeated sigh, shoulders slumping, eyes downcast.
"Have you ever heard the tale of the Phantom of the Opera?" he spoke those words with a strange bitterness that I did not understand.
"Of course I have, as I recall it was I that first informed you of the legend."
"Well, my betrothed is frightened of him-" he paused. He picked up his brandy glass and downed half of it in a single gulp, automatically I refilled it for him.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, the Opera Ghost is just a legend, nothing more."
"Yes, I've tried to tell her that myself, but she insists that he has come to her and even taken her away to his lair below the opera house," I cut him off by laughing.
"What a story! What a story indeed!" I chuckled, thinking that he was joking, "So what is truly troubling her?"
"I've told you! She believes these fantastical stories about "ghosts" and "angels". Have I told you that she thinks her father sent her the "Angel of Music" when he past on?" his solemn demeanor was shattered by the spirits coursing through his body.
"That's ridiculous," I played along jokingly, though my concern was mounting. Was Christine being stalked by a predator simply waiting for the ideal time to take her away and use her for his own pleasure? What went on in this man's "lair?"
"I know, and she insisted that we keep our engagement a secret, and that it was vital that we only get together when he locked himself away to work on his mysterious opera. Something like Don Juan Triumphs or something of that type."
'Don Juan?' I thought, 'Was he not the man from the legends that would kill men and rape their daughters! What did Christine think she was doing associating with men of that sort?'
"And that's not all, she even claims that he sings to her in dreams, and tells her stories, and that he taught her to sing! She gives him credit for the incredible change in her voice!" he downed the rest of the glass and loosened his neck tie, "What do you propose I do?" he tossed up his hands in a defeat sign.
"I say, you forget it all; if you aren't worried, then she won't be either. Tell her that you love her, and that you'll support her," I couldn't believe the words spewing from my mouth. I best turn this to my advantage while I still could, "Tell her you can take her away forever, and then do what you say. I have a vacation home in Versailles that she would find very accommodating. I know you are busy, but I could find it in my heart to take the burden of guarding your precious gem."
"But couldn't I watch her instead? I can take a holiday from work here and go with her," he sputtered out an arguement, but I was already dismissing it before the words had escaped his mouth,
"No you cannot do that! You must stay here, your business needs you. My business is done with in Paris, I can go back. You can't."
"Alright, but I insist on driving her there, and making sure that she arrives safely," that was a final decision and I knew there was no point in arguing, "I'll go talk with her."
A few weeks later, he burst into that same room. I hadn't even given a greeting before he started speaking,
"She loves him! She loves him! How can she possibly? I mean she's told me all sorts of awful things about him, how can she still love him?"
"Wait, slow down. Honestly, boy! Calm yourself!" I sat him down on my chair beside the fire and pulled another aside him, "Did she actually say that she loved him? Are you certain she did? What exactly did she say!" I was now as excited as my poor brother, and it was quite apparent that my enthusiasm shocked and perhaps even frightened him a bit.
"I suppose she didn't actually say it...more of implied it...now that I think about it, she didn't really say that much at all. She seemed far too concerned that we would be discovered, or that he was watching us from the shadows.
"I did what you said I should. I told her that I must take her away where she won't have to worry about the Phantom following her. I said that I could take her now if it need be..." he trailed off.
"And? Did she agree? Do I need to be calling a carriage presently?" I asked eagerly.
"Don't be silly! She said that she must wait. That she must perform one last time for this thing...this monster! She said that it would kill him for her to do otherwise!"
"Well, all the better for it! Why not just kill the beast and then she'll never have to worry again!"
"The thought struck me at the time, but another one came as well. A thought to utterly disgusting for me to comprehend. Maybe she actually loves him, and I said as much! I told her that she loved him and that she would leave him if she didn't; that she wouldn't care what happened to him if she was truly frightened of him as she claims to be! And how did she respond? Did she tell me I was being foolish, that I was an ignorant fool and that of course he frightened her out of her wits! No! Here are the words we exchanged under Apollo's Lyre,
"Oh, I hate him!" cried I, "And you, Christine, tell me, do you hate him too?
"'No,' she told me. And I mocked her fiercely, but she parried with a terrible blow.
"'Then you want me to go back there?' she said, 'Take care, Raoul; I have told you: I should never return!'
"And I, seeking consolation after such pain, asked her a question that I could swear would have brought an honest and favorable answer to her pretty lips. I asked if she would still love me if this Phantom wasn't so ugly. I asked thinking she valued our love, our passion, or at very least, our engagement. And instead she responds with this...
"'Unhappy man! Why do you tempt destiny? Why do you ask me about things that I hide deep in my conscience the way I would hide a sin?'
"And then I kissed her, I kissed her passionately with all of my soul, though I could feel hers leaving me alone in the snow. Her spirit was far from me; it was off again, ready to embrace her mysterious teacher!"
Now I, Philippe de Chagney Comte of France, was extremely flustered. I wanted Christine to myself and how could I get her to come away if she was not even going to come away with my brother who she claimed to love. Unless...he could be making all this up! He could be this "phantom", he must know how much I want Christine and he is planning to steal her away from me! I cannot allow this to happen; I cannot let my beauty slip through my fingers!
"But she has made no protest to running away with us after the next performance, correct?" I inquired, trying to keep a rational mind, but my heart was racing so that I thought perhaps my brother may be able to hear it in the chair across from me.
"No, she has made no protest against it. Ready five of our family's finest carriages. Have four of them wait outside the Palais Garnier; we shall escape in one of the four, then that carriage will meet another by the Notre Dame, and we will switch. Our previous carriage will turn around and drive the other way. The carriage loaded with our precious cargo will then carry on to Versailles. Does that make sense at all?"
It was visible to me that his heart was racing as fast as my own. Perspiration stood on his forehead, but he made no move to escape the fire's heat.
"Yes. It will work, I can have the carriages waiting after the performance with our fastest horses. The three of us will load into the one farthest down the right side of the road. Tell Mlle. Daae to not pack anything, for her to make no sign that she is leaving, for her to give no farewells. We must flee with godspeed if this escape shall work."
"It will be done," he agreed and left hurriedly.
Back to present day: On the shore of the underground lake
I now near the mysterious lake that puzzled the architects and designers of this monstrous opera house. Things have not gone according to plan; Mlle. Daae disappeared after uttering her last note of the "Prison Scene". Ironically they were,
"Holy Angel in Heaven blessed, My Spirit longs with thee to rest!"
And she was gone. My brother rushed from the darkened house, taking no heed to the disgruntled opera viewers who he dislodged in his frantic exit. Immediately I knew what was going on; the two of them must have devised a plan of escape through those very opera cellars that he spoke to me of.
I rushed to Christine's dressing room to see the mirror just swinging back in to place. It must have taken me a full twenty minutes, simply trying to find the latch to swing it loose again. Fumbling with it, I jumped back as it flew out, but enveloped me and I was encased in darkness. Not knowing what to do, my thoughts clouded with uncontrollable rage I had plunged on running as fast as I could down the tunnel. Slowing only when the vast lake came into my view.
"It's beautiful," I breathed, and indeed it eyes scanned the scene before me, a gorgeous lake and a mysterious door to a house. I knew then that I had to reach that house. I knew that Christine was there. I could feel it.
"What was that?" I wondered aloud as the sound of a single voice drifted over the waters. 'The opera hasn't continued, has it? How could it when its star was vanished?' I reasoned silently with myself, all the while the voice grew louder and louder.
Until...realization struck me. It was Christine's voice! And now sure enough I could see her. Perched on a rock in what must be the deeper section of the lake.
All thoughts of the mysterious house on the lake forgotten; I dove in. Not bothering to even remove my shoes or dress jacket. I rose from the icy waters sputtering and gasping for air.
Christine, seeing me, released a small smile towards me, then continued her enchanting song. That was all I needed to carry on. I realized how vulnerable I was if this was a trap, but my Christine would never do such a thing to me! The idea was preposterous!
At last I reached the rock and simontaneously her song stopped. Her large blue eyes peered down at me, they held great love and compassion. I reached up towards her, and then the most horrifiying thing happened; Christine slipped off the rock and tumbled into the abyss!
"CHRISTINE!" I shouted for all to hear and dove after her, eyes wide and searching. Coldness numbed my body and my lungs burned with fire, but I refused to give up. I must find her and save her!
A grip of iron clenched my arms from behind. I twisted as far as I could, but that only served to reveal the an awful creature to my eyes; It was Christine...or rather It looked like Christine, It had her face, her eyes, her body, but It was not Christine!
The Thing spun me to face herself, all the while crushing me to her breast. My oxygen deprived lungs yearned to resurface and take another breath, just one more! I struggled blindly, striking out with fury. The thing only laughed and began to sing her song again:
"Foolish sailor's
Come to bed
Let me hold you
Till you're dead!"
A wicked laugh erupted from It's beautiful mouth. All at once it struck me that I knew what this thing was: A Siren! She had lured me to my certain death by singing the song which had undoubtedly sent several other fools such as myself to similar fates. The twisted grin on Christine's face was too much for me; this Thing was enjoying my feeble escape attempts. I would not allow such pleasure; immediately I stopped all of my childlike thrashing and lay quietly in her arms, waiting to die. I shut my eyes against her angry, wild beauty, but the image was imprinted in my mind.
Spots swam before my wide-eyed stare, blackness threatened to creep over my vision. Soon it did and I was blind. My body was paralized as if frozen, and I could no longer struggle even if I should have wanted to. Suddenly with one last burst of energy, my eyes saw once more the terrible wrathful beauty of the Siren that got the best of me...and I knew no more.