Christine paused for a moment, closed her eyes and drew a deep breath and remained still for a few seconds. Having resigned herself to the inevitable embarrassment, she hesitantly got up and went to the door. She opened the door to a young man with a broad smile plastered to his face. His golden blond hair was fashionable tousled, his complexion fresh as roses, and his eyes held the color of the sky on a crisp spring morning. Her visitor was the very image of a Parisian gentleman, the embodiment that male form writers of the romance genre exalted. Could this be the boy Christine knew so many years ago?
"Christine!" he exclaimed, "how long has it been?"
"Monsieur?"
"Surely you remember the young boy who rescued the red scarf you were so fond of from the sea, Mademoiselle Daaé."
"Raoul! It is you! I thought I had misheard the name of my visitor! I would never have thought you would recognize me after all these years. After all, we were but children when we met. You must tell me, how were you sure it was me on the stage and not someone else who happened to own a face similar to mine?"
"Simple induction, my dear Christine. I could never forget the bewitching voice that so enchanted me all those years. That, coupled with the charming persona you possess and the fact that Daaé is not a common name, convinced me that it had to be little Lotte up on the stage."
Christine laughed, "You remember the nickname as well?"
"My dear, I doubt that there is a single moment of those wonderful times we had together that has slipped through my memory. Remember the wonderful walks along the beach we took?"
Christine smiled fondly as she replied "Looking for treasure before hunger drove us home to have a picnic in the attic."
"Reading to each other the dark stories of the North during the evenings."
"Listening to Father played the violin..."
On this thought, Christine smiled and affectionately clasped Raoul's hand. "Raoul, I can't tell you how wonderful it is to talk to someone who shared one of the happiest times of my life."
"I, too, feel that the summer we spend together was the happiest of my boyhood. When we parted, I often wondered what became of you. A few years after, I considered looking for you, but felt too much time had gone by. Imagine my surprise and joy when I came into the opera, prepared for a rather dull evening of Carlotta's soulless singing and familiar company, and see you on the stage! You were the finest Elyssa to ever grace Hannibal!
Christine lightly blushed and looked down. "Why thank you Raoul, I'm pleased to hear you enjoyed my performance.
"Well my dear, I feel I must confess something. I visited you for a less virtuous reason than reminiscing."
Here he gave a roguish grin.
"My primarily intent was to ask you to supper."
With this admission, Christine felt her happiness to see Raoul whither away. Everything had been going so well! Now what was she to say?
Christine let her gaze drop and meet the floor.
"Raoul...I'm afraid I have to decline."
"I understand. After all this is very short notice. Tomorrow night then."
"I'm sorry to say that I shall have to decline that as well."
Raoul's smile froze on his face, and subtly, his expression changed to that of formal politeness.
"Ah. I... apologize. I should have guessed. It must be difficult to break through to success without being a kept woman of some sort. Although I have to say, I am quite jealous the fellow who you're seeing."
It was now Christine's turn to adopt a mask of cold cordially. She gave a tight smile as she replied "If I interpret your words correctly, the logical reason why I got such a coveted role was because I have a light skirt, no? The truth of the matter is quite the contrary, Monsieur le Viscount. It was through sheer chance I was able to audition earlier today. And regardless of luck, I was on that stage purely as a direct product of any talents I may possess."
Raoul cocked his head to one side. "Then, I'm afraid I don't understand, my dear. If you're not seeing anyone, why can't you share a simple repast with me?"
Christine regretted her words of earlier, now what was she to say? But, on the same note, both choices formed a double edged sword. Which was she to risk, the Angel of Music's wrath or damning rumors a scorned suitor might perpetrate in bitterness? Christine sighed. There was no other choice but to explain her unique position. She would never have guessed that she would admit her deepest, most cherished secret twice in one night.
"Raoul," she began slowly. "Do you remember Father's stories of the Angel of Music?"
"Of course! How could I forget? The Angel who visits every great musician once in their lifetime." Raoul chucked. "Other parents entertained their children with local fairy tales, but true to form, Gustave Daaé found a way to fit his muse into bedtime tales."
"I realize how unlikely and fantastic this sounds, so please keep an open mind Just before Father died, he called me over to his death bed. His last words to me were 'Christine, child. When I'm in heaven I will send you the Angel of Music. He will guide you and protect you.' A few months later, I was visited by the Angel of Music and for the past decade he has been my tutor. It was only through his lessons and instruction I was able to hone my abilities. He is the sole reason for my success. And he has promised to remain my tutor indefinitely on one condition: I devote myself entirely to music. He has made it... very clear that if I were to take a husband, or even allow someone to court me, he would ascend back into heaven, never to return. I'm sure, Raoul, you understand that I can in no way risk losing the Angel of Music's instruction."
Throughout this confession, Raoul became more relaxed and regained his good humor. "Well," Raoul said in attempted seriousness as the hint of a smile played across his face, "I'm sure the Angel won't mind if I take you out to dinner. After all, you were absolutely perfect on the stage and you deserve a little fun, if only for a few hours. I won't keep you up past a reasonable hour and I'll be sure you get home safe."
Here Raoul moved to the door.
"But Raoul the Angel is very strict! You know nothing of-" "Fifteen minutes, little Lotte! I have to go order the carriage and you must change."
Raoul turned back to grin at Christine. "Christine, I really can't find words sufficient to express how happy I am that we crossed paths again."
"Wait!" Christine cried out as the door closed.
Christine froze in naked fear and dread. Numbly, she turned around, sat at her vanity table, and buried her face in her arms. What was she to do? At the moment she desired nothing more than to accept Raoul's invitation and enjoy the evening like anyone else. Raoul was one of the only people she shared a past with, one of the only people who knew her before her Father died. The only person in this world, aside from Madame Valerius, who knew her back when she was bright and outgoing, before she retreated into a shell of shyness and sorrow. Raoul could bring back the girl who died when her Father did, Christine could feel it. And yet...
And yet a part of her was ashamed that she even considered accepting the Viscount's invitation. The Angel of Music had been by her side since she first came to the Opera. The only thing that he asked of her in exchange for lessons, companionship, and understanding was to abandon any Earthly ties of an amorous nature. To go with Raoul was to betray the Angel. She would be unable to conceal this outing from the Angel as well. Being a divine being , he knew Christine better than she knew herself and could see all. He would leave her behind forever, just as he almost did last time. The one and only other suitor who caught Christine's favor had resulted a scathing lecture and earned Christine an antagonistic month of cold silence from the Angel. Only by feverish prayer and oaths of undying loyalty did the Angel return. That month separated from the Angel of Music was a torture that she did not want to endure again. And what if this time, the Angel kept his word and left her for good? Intolerable!
Christine took the one photo she owned of her parents off the vanity table and gazed into her dead father's eyes. Oh Papa she thought I wish I knew how to have both without losing either. She sat like that for several moments before replacing the photo in its usual spot and getting up.
She could not lose the Angel of Music over the sake of a young man. Christine had every intention of gathering her things, wrapping her fraying shawl about her, and beginning her nightly journey through the streets of Paris to the apartment she shared with the good Madame Valerius, but before she took two steps, a voice colder than ice radiated throughout the room and stopped her where she stood.
"I see Mademoiselle Daaé is in a hurry to meet her new suitor."
