Disclaimer: -Runs out and checks the mailbox- Nope...still no rights...-sigh- maybe tomorrow... -goes by the window to wait-
A/N: Yay, chapter three!! To all of you who have been patient with me and reading this story since the start, thank you so much! I'm sorry for the wait! But I hope that you'll agree that it was worth it. The funny thing about this story is, even though it's just my own take on everything, writing it makes me a lot more tender towards Raoul as a romantic character. Don't get me wrong, I've been a Raoul/Christine fan from the start, but if I watch the movie now with these chapters in my mind it makes his character's actions much more...poignant and sincere. Does anyone else feel that way? If so please tell me, I'm curious and I want to know! (Not to mention I would be really truly honored.) And now, onwards!
It was an elegant carriage- the finest money could buy, and utterly in season. From the highly polished, solid oak doors with green velvet lining, to the tasseled pillows placed meticulously about the cabin, and ending with the silver bells tinkling upon the thoroughbreds' harnesses, it was the embodiment of fashion and good taste. For its unwilling occupant however, it was a glamorous and sadly portable torture device, completely unnecessary in such a small town as this; especially so when the sand and sea-grass appeared so inviting to impatient eyes.
Raoul de Chagny sighed and fought to maintain his good posture. If his brother could manage the jarring ride while sporting a top hat and frock coat, he could certainly handle it with his lighter duster and cap! Still, after a month of frigid winds and the occasional downpour, the blessed relief of the sun was wearing thin its welcome by shining directly in the young viscount's eyes. Not for the first time he envied the ladies their shade bestowing parasols, and wished there was a more masculine equivalent. Instead, he pulled his cap lower over his eyes and resisted the urge to squint.
For the most part, their return journey to the de Chagny seaside house was passing by in silence. Philippe had needed to settle some accounts with the (only) bank in town, and asked Raoul to accompany him; mostly for 'educational' purposes, Raoul was sure. Considering that the fully grown and already much experienced Philippe was the primary heir to the estate, Raoul found his instructions on proper management to be tedious and unnecessary. After all, as the second son there would never be any need for him to actually apply any of the things he was learning; full responsibility for the continuation of the estate, and the family line, fell upon his brother.
More realistically, once Raoul had reached manhood his family would bequeath him with a decent sum which he would invest, and work to establish his own fortune. Either that or he would join the army. While Raoul had always been one to fight for what he cared about, he doubted that he could manage a permanent military career- he hated taking orders.
His brother clearing his throat broke Raoul out of his reverie. Guiltily he turned to look back at Philippe, wondering if perhaps he had been trying to attract Raoul's attention for some time now. However, Philippe's affectionate smile and sparkling eyes made a greater case for amusement rather than frustration.
"You've fallen rather silent Raoul. Is such a simple view really so very breathtaking?"
Raoul shook his head. "Forgive me if you find me inattentive brother, but I truly have nothing of interest to speak of."
"Oh really? Then perhaps you wouldn't mind me asking you something about which I'm interested in?"
Raising an eyebrow, Raoul nodded slowly. "I suppose I can be led to indulge your curiosity." He said, secretly wondering what on earth Philippe was referring to.
Philippe smiled and leaned back slightly into his seat before continuing. "Clara tells me that you have adopted a poor orphan girl as your playmate. Is this true?"
Raoul coloured under Philippe's scrutinizing gaze. 'Blast Clara's infernal meddling! She needs to adopt a new hobby...hmph, snake oil peddling would keep her mouth busy at least. If only Bernard were a bit less of a stick-in-the-mud, she wouldn't feel the need to occupy herself with our lives!' "It's not true." He said finally; watching the slightly surprised look on his brother's face as he added, "She's not an orphan."
"Oh? But the child does exist then?"
"As much as you or I. I'll have you know that she is not some sort of street urchin either; she and her father live comfortably enough, in a cottage not too far from our house, actually."
"A cottage? How...quaint. I notice that you jumped straight to her defense."
"For such a gentle creature it is fitting that no ill be spoken of her."
"So she is not an orphan, and not destitute, but I am correct when I surmise that she is a child then?" Frowning, Raoul wondered exactly where Philippe was heading with his questions. "Yes, of course she is."
His brother sighed with what sounded suspiciously like relief. "I dare say that I needn't remind you Raoul, that in a few years you will be coming of age in our family. It would hardly be appropriate for the youngest son of the count to be associating with women of a lower social degree. However, as it appears to be a mere case of genteel charity, I am disinclined to think that father would have any serious objections to you continuing your acquaintance for the duration of our stay."
Thunderstruck, Raoul stared at the impeccably well-bred man before him, feeling the first tell-tale flutters of fury. "A charity case? If you believe that I 'associate' with the Daae girl out of a mere expression of pity, then you are very much mistaken. We are simply two young, lonely beings who, regardless of age or social status, are able to take comfort and delight in each other's company! Under the given circumstances of being so very far away from Paris and society, I do not believe that anyone would be justified in taking offense at that."
"You dismiss society too easily little brother, for one of your status. Even the walls have ears. If you were just a few years older, this whole business would cause quite a scandal."
"Let it then!" Raoul exclaimed, startling the driver and jolting the carriage. "Regardless of what they may say, my conscious is clean. You would do well to take your own advice brother, before you are so eager to give it out." Rashly he continued, not heeding the warning glare of Philippe's narrowed eyes. "It is no secret which part of town you like to visit, or what sort of company you keep while there. While that sort of behavior may be tolerated, such a loose concern for your financial affairs is not. If you think that your...your frivolity draws less condemnation than my unbiased desire for friendship, you are grievously amiss."
It was like a dark cloud had settled directly over the carriage, blocking out the otherwise sunny day.
"I may be amiss," ground out Philippe between gritted teeth, "but you're a fool if you honestly believe that a boy your age can keep company with a child of a lower class without those who know you rightfully being suspect of your motivations!"
"Christine!"
"I don't care what her name is- she's just a sordid little chit as far as anyone proper is concerned, and you would do well to give greater thought to what consequences your actions will bring!"
"Not her name, you wretched amant de putes, I saw Christine, we just passed her! Driver, stop the carriage, I'm getting out."
Now it was Philippe who was livid. "You actually have the audacity to leave this carriage and chase after that girl with all that has just been said?" Raoul leapt nimbly from the carriage before it had completely come to a stop, and turned to face his brother.
"Christine happens to be infinitely better company at the moment. We are not fools Philippe: We both know perfectly well that as the second son, I am in line to inherit nothing. Unless you come across an untimely end -which given your excellent health is highly unlikely- I will either be forced to make my own way in the world or rely upon your charity...which is a prospect I don't very much relish at the moment. With that in mind, I freely choose to be friends with the little Daae girl. She, at least, is not swayed from her sweetness of temperament or angelic innocence by the misfortunes which have befallen her. God help me, I have sworn to care for her while her father is unable to, and I am a man of my word! I pray that I shall be a more loyal friend and brother to her than you have been to me!"
With that, Raoul slammed the carriage door shut and proceeded to chase after the diminishing figure of Christine, who had by now reached the crossroads before town. Philippe stared after him, rage and pain equally etched upon his handsome face, before it was swept away by a practiced air of noble indifference. Tapping his cane smartly upon the carriage's floor to signal the driver, he continued on to the seaside retreat alone.
Christine wasn't sure if she could remember a time when her spirits were higher. For one thing, there was sun! She relished the beautiful light: She absorbed the warmth on her skin and her hair, the way the long grasses shimmered in the light, the vibrant colours of the first few wildflowers that had opened...she loved what the sun could do to such a dark world. But more than all of that, what made her heart especially glad was that with the brightening of the weather, her father's health was improving too. He was coughing less, and on clear days Christine would help him move a chair out to the front of the house, so that he could watch her build castles in the sand. Some days Raoul would come and help her, and once he caught a starfish in a bucket for her to play with, until she had felt sorry for it and asked him to let it go. Those were the days she was happiest, when she could spend them with the two people she loved best in all the world.
Today was also promising to be exciting, even if she was on her own: It would be the first time since arriving that Christine would get to go into town! Her father couldn't stand the thought of her going without him, but there was little real choice- so with a strict lecture to find Stephan to escort her he tied a few francs into her pocket handkerchief and sent her on her way.
Christine had been much better behaved this time, really. As much as she disliked Stephan, she didn't want to let her papa down...so she had walked all the way to Stephan's house with its little fish market attached and peered through the lattice gate. Satisfied that she had not seen him -and therefore that he was not at home and nothing could be done about it- she had continued on her way until she reached the crossroads, and was now staring up at the painted wooden signs, perplexed.
It wasn't that she couldn't read; she had mastered the alphabet and could read most of the children's books her father ordered for her: It was that she couldn't yet read French. So, after a brief debate, Christine decided to continue straight along the way she was headed. The path was prettier that way, with more sunshine and flowers, and if she kept heading straight it would be harder to get lost. Besides, why should she be afraid when she had the Angel of Music protecting her?
Singing softly to herself, Christine continued along her path, her voice growing as she picked up confidence and childish enthusiasm. This was most probably why when someone behind her started calling her name they were almost upon her before she heard it. Wondering guiltily if her father had sent someone after her, she turned around slowly with her head down, only to have them lift it back up again with their fingertips.
"Silly little Lottie, you're going the wrong way. It's a good thing you have me here to look out for you, you know."
"Raoul!" She cried, standing on tiptoe to hug him about the waist. "You found me!" A moment later her delight had faded back into feeling guilty. "You weren't sent by papa, were you?" She asked anxiously, biting her lip. "No," said Raoul gently "I was leaving town with my brother when I saw you on the road. We passed right by each other! But why are you worried about your father? Christine, you've gone out on your own again when you're not supposed to, haven't you?"
Her embarrassed silence was answer enough and Raoul sighed, taking her shoulders in his hands and kneeling down to look straight into her large doe-eyes. "Christine, enough of that! You'll worry me into an early grave. Next time, just...listen, if you need to go somewhere, from now on you come find me and I'll take you, understand?" Christine nodded, visibly chastened, and Raoul straightened up. "Good, that's my girl. Now, where exactly are you trying to go?"
"To Le Havre." Said Christine, brightening at the name of the town. "I need a new pair of shoes. Papa says these are too worn." Raoul glanced down. While Christine was increasingly playing barefoot in the sand as the weather started to warm, it was true that the ones she had were fraying beyond repair, and the heel of one had become lost long ago. He nodded and took her little hand in his. "Well then dear one, shall we continue? And while we walk, you can start telling me all of the stories which your father has told you now that he's getting better.
Eagerly Christine complied, pulling at him to walk faster and talking animatedly about mermaids and fairies and above all the Angel of Music. If at any point the young Raoul regretted letting the child ramble on about so many things, never once did his attentiveness or smiling face suggest it.
Slowly the road before them widened and became more even, and they could see smoke curling lazily from brick chimneys, drifting towards the harbor and out to sea. A few minutes later they had reached the top of a small knoll, and at the bottom of its winding path lay the first few buildings of town. Almost beside herself now, Christine was fighting to not simply grab Raoul with both hands and drag him down the hillside; Raoul laughed as he watched her struggle to contain her excitement. It was remarkably contagious -he hadn't been half this interested when he had gone with Philippe- and it wasn't long before he had given in to her and was moving as briskly down the hill as polite society would allow.
Once they had reached the paving stones which marked the boundary, Christine stopped to stare in wide-eyed wonder at the people and things around them. Cities twice as large as this one were familiar to her, yet somehow the simplicity and old world attention to simple detail (demolished and built over in larger cities) was enchanting to her young mind.
Raoul indulged her in this, allowing himself to be dragged from storefront to peddler and back again, insisting only that he be the one to walk on the side closest to the street. Once her curiosity had led them to Rue Des Preles however, he stopped and told her to pause. Reluctantly Christine complied, looking up at him, her eyes dancing with impatience and excitement. He loved to see her like this; so joyful and, and alive. If only he could find a way to keep her like this, and not staring after her father with pained and desperate eyes. For her to always be pulling at his hand, eagerly pursuing what was just around the next corner. It didn't matter if the days were mundane or simple, because Christine found delight in everything; even the ugliest weeds were fondly admired, instead of torn out and crushed like they were in his family's garden. To have her with him now, and smiling like this over something he took for granted (something he didn't even like) made the trip to town almost precious. He would give anything to see this light remain in her eyes; for it to not fade in sadness with the passage of time.
"This is the street that has your shoe shop Christine." He told her. "I think it would be wise to go there now, before we search the rest of the town, don't you?" Wistfully Christine looked past him; the bright colours of the flower shop on the corner had caught her eye, but she nodded.
"Afterwards though, may we go over there?" She asked, pointing to the bright baskets of tulips and daisies stacked on the curb. Raoul followed her gaze and chuckled. "Alright little Lottie, as you wish, but shoes first. And we really shouldn't stay much longer I'm afraid- your papa will scold you. Now then dear one, come this way and I'll lead you to the finest shoe shop in town." Seeing her little face blanche with wonder he hastily added, "Actually, it's the only shoe shop in town."
The modest storefront was identical to its neighbors up and down the street, with a polished wooden sign hanging over the door which swung gently in the ocean breeze, declaring 'Magasin de Chaussure' in black paint. Glass diamonds in the window panes showcased the latest styles; men's on one side and women's on the other. Outside, a sleepy looking pitbull was tethered, eyeing prospective customers warily under his droopy brow. Christine gasped in delight and attempted to pet the 'sweet doggy,' but Raoul kept a firm grasp on her hand and reminded her that if they stopped, she wouldn't have as much time with the flowers. She could pet the dog later. (Much, much later. When it didn't look so grumpy. Or so mean. Or when it had turned into a nice, harmless poodle or something.)
He reached over Christine's head for the door and ushered her inside, the tinkling bell alerting the shopkeeper to their presence. He was a tall, lanky man with dust coloured hair, and it took him longer than it should to straighten his back from where he was arranging things on a low shelf; however he smiled politely to greet them, dull grey eyes brightening a bit when he recognized Raoul. (Or more appropriately, when he recognized money.)
"Ah! You must be the De Chagny's youngest...a pleasure dear boy, an absolute pleasure. The whole town is buzzing with the rumor of your mother's summer party! Secrets don't keep very well in these parts I'm afraid. Still, who could blame the woman for wanting to cause a little more excitement in these dull parts so far from Paris' lights, hmm? Now then lad, what will it be for you? I've got some lovely Italian leather that I've been saving for a special customer such as yourself. If you'll wait here just a moment my boy, I'll go fetch it for you."
"That's alright, there's no need." Said Raoul lightly, stopping the over-eager entrepreneur in his tracks. "I'm not here for myself today, but for the little mademoiselle." Christine, not knowing how else to react over her presentation, curtsied, which caused Raoul to grin. The shop owner looked perplexed. "You must be a very benevolent master, to bring the child all the way to town. Is she the daughter of one of your servant girls?"
Next to her, Christine could feel Raoul stiffen, although she wasn't sure why. "She's nothing of the sort." He said, with a polite smile which didn't match his clipped tone of voice. "She is the daughter of a friend who has taken ill. I am simply taking his place today. Now then Christine," he continued, not giving the man a chance to apologize for his slight, "why don't you look around and find something you like?"
Flustered, the proprietor left them to wander the shelves unescorted. Vaguely, Raoul wondered at the absurdity of so many shoes, even in such a small shop- surely no one would buy them all! Men's shoes all looked roughly the same, and while he preferred his to be more fashionably narrowed, it was nothing compared to the insanity of choices available for women here: white leather, black leather, red leather, brown; laces, buckles, or buttons; heal, no heel, some heel; rabbit fur, fox fur, snake skin; slipper, ankle, mid-calf (he blushed slightly at the thought of a woman's calf, but pushed it aside); bows, embroidery, or beads; silk, satin, or suede... it was enough to make a teenage boy run for the door. Still, he bravely stood his ground, and when Christine gasped quietly a moment later he made his way over to her, with a shred of genuine curiosity over what she had found.
Sitting there in a box just at her eye-level was a lovely pair of shiny, black leather ankle boots, with a row of buttons on the front and a little satin bow at the top of one side. Raoul was relieved by the tastefulness of it, but Christine seemed enchanted by the shoes, tracing the arc of one with a delicate finger. Raoul smiled down at her and placed a hand on top of her curly head.
"Well then little Lottie? Shall we purchase them and be on our way?" Slowly, sadly, Christine shook her head. Raoul frowned. "Why not?" He asked, perplexed. Silently she pointed at the neatly written price tag of francs just below the box, before she sprinted away lightly to the front of the store, rummaging for something she had seen earlier. She emerged after a moment with a very nondescript pair of brown lace-up shoes; of the sort which the factory girls wore to work in Paris- inexpensive and disappointingly sensible.
"These please monsieur." She said shyly to the shop keep, and carefully counted out the correct amount of francs from her handkerchief. The two francs which remained were retied with the same amount of care, and tucked into her sash so that her hand was free to carry the parcel which contained her new purchase. With her other hand she reached for Raoul's, and smiled at him as she drug him impatiently towards the door.
"And now the flower shop!" She reminded him, pulling at his hand as though to make him move faster. "You promised!" Still, Raoul did not miss the last furtive look she gave to the elegant pair of little girl's boots before they exited onto the street.
Raoul picked the parcel up from her hands and tucked it under his arm. "Let me take it from you," he said before she could protest "it's my duty as a gentleman."
"What's a gentleman?"
For a moment her question stopped him short, and he laughed. "You know, I'm not quite sure. It's hard to define really. I think...I think it's a man who puts someone else's comfort and wants before his own. Does that make sense, Christine?"
Her little brow furrowed as she thought. "I think so." She said in a way which stated rather plainly that she didn't quite get it. Raoul grinned and squeezed her hand affectionately. "It's alright little Lottie, you'll be able to tell the difference when you're older. Here we are now: Your flower shop. They are beautiful, aren't they?"
A woman with a lace cap over peach coloured locks greeted them at the front of her open air stall, curtseying. "Bonjour monsieur. Anything in particular you are looking for today? The roses are fresh from Provence. They arrived by train this morning."
"No thank you madame. The colours simply caught the child's eye. Christine," he said, turning to her. "I've just remembered something. My mother placed an order for a new pair of shoes a week ago. If they have come in and I get them for her, it will save her the trip. While we're at it, I've changed my mind; would you stay here for me and choose something nice for Clara? I'll only be gone a minute." Christine bit her lip and looked back the way they had come: She could see the door of the shoe shop from where she stood.
"You want to get some pretty flowers for Clara?" she repeated, fingering the velvety petals of a violet. "That's right." Said Raoul, smiling. "Don't you think it will be a nice surprise for her? 'And I'll leave them in her room without a note,' he thought triumphantly, 'and have an entire week free of her prying while she tries to discover where they came from!' Nodding at the store's mistress he jogged back towards the shoe shop, glancing once over his shoulder to ascertain that Christine was, in fact, completely distracted by the blooms and not about to wander off somewhere else.
For a moment or two Christine admired the woven baskets and water-filled vases of flowers silently, marveling over the grace of the tulip and the elegance of the lily. When her attention turned towards the roses however, the shop keeper spoke to her.
"Do you like roses petite fille?" Christine blushed at being addressed, but nodded vigorously. "They are...so very pretty." She said, much more aware of her foreign accent when she spoke to a stranger than when she spoke with Raoul or her father in French. "I wish I am... was as pretty as them." The flower keeper hid a laugh behind her hand. "You will be ma chere, I see it already. Which ones do you like best? The red ones?"
Christine looked at the blood red rose which was being offered to her and took a tiny step back. It was so...intense. It almost frightened her. The woman laughed again, this time not bothering to conceal it. "Not that one then." She said, tucking it back into its vase. "The young man your with, is he your cousin? Which ones does he like?"
"I'm partial to white roses myself." Answered Raoul, coming up from behind with Christine's box. "They didn't have them yet," he explained to Christine, who was looking at his otherwise empty hands, "which is a shame because my mother doesn't enjoy traveling. I think that's why we're staying at the sea-side house as long as we are. Well Christine? Have you chosen something for Clara?"
"Oh, yes!" She said hastily, although she had actually forgotten. There were just so many...grabbing the nearest bunch, she held it up for him to see. Amused, Raoul took them from her. "Daisies. Simple, yet cheerful. Thank you Christine, they're perfect."
He was about to pay the woman for her flowers, when a little hand tugging on his sleeve made him pause. Christine beckoned him closer, and he bent down so she could whisper in his ear, "Raoul, could I have a rose too? A pink one!"
Raoul smiled sadly and tugged at one of her curls, and affectionate gesture he had adopted. "I'm sorry little Lottie, but not this time. Your father is going to think I spoil you." Which I do, he groaned inwardly. He gave the woman her francs (while she pretended to not be disappointed that they had bought the least expensive flowers in her shop) and waited for Christine to take his hand.
She did, but she hesitated, and the look on her face was sullen as she did so. She didn't say anything as they left the shop and made their way up the street, or even when they had left town and had made it to the end of the paved roadway. After a few more minutes of silence, Raoul finally gave in. "Please don't be cross little Lottie. I'm sure one day you'll meet a wonderful man who will buy you as many roses as you could possibly wish for!"
"But I wanted one from you." She sniffed, shaking her head to hide her face behind her curls.Sighing, Raoul put down the shoes and the flowers and wrapped his arms around Christine's waist, hoisting her up into the air as she gasped. When they were at eye level he smiled and rested his forehead against her's lightly. "For your birthday, I'll buy you a dozen. Now will you be cheerful again? It will be an awfully dull walk otherwise."
She reached out and pulled gently on Raoul's queue in return. "Promise?"
"Promise. Now I'm going to have to put you down little Lottie...you're really too big for me to carry like this."
She nodded and he lowered her until her feet had hit the ground, and then gathered up the shoes and the flowers, holding out the bouquet for Christine to carry back. This time at least, the sun was behind them as they walked.
Raoul was pleased with himself as they approached the Daae cottage: Even by letting Christine stop to rest, the sun was only just starting to set. The poor girl was yawning when they reached the door, which prompted him to wonder if it would be worth it to borrow the hated carriage next time (he assumed there would be a next time). Or even better, to bring his horse Saule out of the stables for a ride. He wondered how comfortable Christine would be if she were up so high?
Reaching the door, he juggled the box and Christine's hand so could knock. Surprisingly, it didn't take that long to get a response. The 'thunk' of something heavy being placed on a table, shuffling footsteps, and M. Daae was at the door; smiling at first, then apparently becoming confused to see someone other than he had expected. "Raoul...and here I thought that you would be Stephan...silly of me at this point, I know. Well, you might as well come in and sit down for a bit. Would you like some tea? Or do your parents let you take brandy?"
"I'm fine, thank you Monsieur. But, where would you like these?" He asked, holding up the packaged shoes.
"Ah. Let Christine take them to put in her room. Here you are my dear...did you have anything left over?"
"Yes papa, here it is." She handed him the handkerchief and took the box, running up the stairs as fast as she could- which considering how high and narrow they were compared to her height, wasn't very.
"So should I assume that Christine went to your home and asked you to come along?" Asked M. Daae, walking back towards the kitchen table.
"Not exactly." Admitted Raoul, following him and taking a seat. There was a comfortable truce between the two men now; not quite friends, but something akin to allies. "We passed each other in the road. I have told her that from now on she needs to let me escort her, if you are unavailable...I hope you will pardon the presumption."
M. Daae sighed. "It would be lying to say I wouldn't be more comfortable with someone who has a few more years of experience in the world; however you have always returned Christine safely, for which I am grateful. And there is no denying the fact that Christine is extremely fond of you. If that will keep her from wandering on her own, then so much the better."
Raoul nodded, starting absentmindedly into the fire. "I hope so. It worries me; she's so trusting, if someone were to take advantage of her innocence...I'd never forgive them."
"For that matter Raoul, I wonder about you as well." Said M. Daae, sitting across from the boy with his nightly cup of tea and brandy (which eased his throat enough to let him sleep at night.) "No need to get defensive, but you're strangely attentive to my daughter for a boy your age. I would think that you would have other, more interesting pursuits. Hunting and fishing perhaps, or boxing with other lads? Or maybe escorting some of the pretty girls in town to a dance?"
Raoul blushed, which made M. Daae chuckle; a mistake, because it started him coughing. Raoul waited politely, pretending to be absorbed in the flickering flames until M. Daae had collected himself. Then he answered, thinking it over carefully.
"It's really not that strange to me...I hope not. I'm the youngest in my family by many years. My sisters were married not long after I was born, and my brother was already concerned with the management of the estate. I had toys and games, but no one to share them with. It was...very lonely. So when I saw Christine so forlorn on the beach, looking like she had been crying...I only wanted to make her smile."
Realizing how sentimental he sounded, he blushed furiously again and cast his mind to search for a different topic. It was then that he noticed the case sitting open by the table. "Your violin? Have you been practicing?"
M. Daae's eyes were sparkling in amusement, but he let Raoul salvage his masculine pride and turned to the new topic as well. "I've been trying to. This numbness in my fingers makes it difficult, but what is life without music? 'Music,' as they say, 'washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.' With patience and the Lord's blessing I'll be able to play again soon."
Raoul nodded in sympathy before the pit-pat of little feet on the stairs alerted them to Christine's presence. She was barefoot now, and danced towards them lightly. "Papa, can we have supper now? And can Raoul stay?"
"I'm sorry Christine, but I really ought to be going home myself." Said Raoul hastily, before M. Daae was placed in an awkward social predicament. "But I'll come to play again in a day or two, alright?"
Christine pouted, but nodded before climbing up in her father's lap and clasping her little hands around his neck. "Is that alright papa? May I go out later to play?" M. Daae kissed his child on her brow, shaking slightly as he suppressed another coughing fit.
"This is your way of getting what you want is it, bestowing affection on this poor old man? Well, I don't see why you can't go out another day anyway, so yes, you may. Raoul, there's a spare lantern in the cabinet by the door. Why don't you use it and bring it back next time?"
Raoul tipped his hat to the violinist. "Thank you very much Monsieur, you're very kind. Sweet dreams little Lottie, I'll see you again soon." He took the lantern and lit it, bracing himself for the indignant fury he would face at home for his earlier offense. He smiled at them both and Christine waved; then he shut the cottage door tightly behind him.
M. Daae watched the lantern light grow smaller outside the window and sighed. 'Lottie' was his name for Christine, yet it seemed to come to the young viscount so easily! And Christine had taken to him like a lamb takes to spring- with natural joy. Still, he was well aware that his possessiveness would do Christine no good when he passed. Oh yes, he know that this was only a temporary recovery, that more than likely he would see his wife and his Blessed Maker before the year was out. Soon, after her birthday (he couldn't bear to do it before then), he would start making plans for Christine's future. When that happened, it wouldn't be such a bad thing for her to have someone she loved and trusted nearby to offer what comfort he could. For now though, those thoughts could wait.
He turned to the worn-out little bundle in his lap. "Christine?" He asked in Swedish. "You weren't eavesdropping at the top of the stairs while M. de Chagny and I were speaking, were you?"
Her dark eyes grew wide at the suggestion. "No papa, I wasn't! I wouldn't do that! What's eavesdropping?"
M. Daae sighed and shifted Christine to his other knee. "It means listening when two people are talking about something private; something you're not supposed to hear."
"Oh, that. It's not my fault, you and Raoul talk too fast in French Papa, I can't understand you!"
"Hmm, I see...well then little Lottie, time for some stew, and then bed. I have a mind to walk along the garden path tomorrow, if you'll come with me."
The hopeful smile which Christine gave her father over his improved health should have raised his spirits; instead he had to resist the urge to hold her tight and weep.
In the morning, after a light breakfast of tea and toast, M. Daae sent his daughter upstairs to put on her shoes and cape while he cleared the table. The resounding scream which shattered the silence a moment later caused him to drop the ceramic mug he had been cleaning with a clatter. It was chipped, but M. Daae was already halfway up the stairs, his anxiety over his daughter's safety spurring him with reserve energy.
When he reached her little room however, instead of the broken glass or tears that he feared he was greeted with the image of Christine on her bed, brown parcel paper torn and discarded on the floor as she gazed in wonder at the beautiful black ankle boots before her. It wasn't long before she noticed her father staring at her in shock from the doorway.
"Oh papa, papa look! Aren't they wonderful? I'll look just like the girls from Paris with these! I wanted these at the store yesterday, but they were too many francs...Papa, do you think it's a gift from the angel? Oh papa, you're so pale! What's wrong?"
M. Daae leaned against the door, gasping, as his daughter held the precious shoes to her chest. "No Christine," he said finally, "I suspect that those are from a very human young man."
A/N: YAY!! I'm back! I'm very sorry that it took so long everyone, however (if I haven't said this before) I update each of my three continuing stories in turn...so sorry for the wait! (Not to mention, I did a random little Dark Knight oneshot which just wouldn't leave me in piece till it was up.) However, you can always check my profile: I update on a regular basis, letting everyone know how a particular chapter is progressing, and about how much longer till it will be up :) While you're there, please answer my poll! I just wanted to know people's opinions about OC's...so please take a moment to head on over and vote for me!
By the way, I finally decided to have Christine be brown eyed like she is in the modern versions, instead of blue-eyed like the book...I know this might annoy some people, and I'm sorry, but I wanted her to appear very sweet and delicate in her own slightly spunky way...and 'doe-eyed' just portrays that so well for me. Finally, if anyone thinks childhood Christine is more outgoing than her teenage counterpart, that's slightly on purpose. Obviously, her father's death will take a HUGE toll on her...I want there to be a noticeable difference in the way the two Christine's act, with some similarities. I hope that this doesn't depress anyone...please be happy with the chapter!
M. Daae's music quote comes from Berthold Auerbach :) And if anyone is wondering what Raoul said to Philippe at the start of the chapter, basically Raoul just called him a 'lover of loose women'...only not so nice. :P For those of you not familiar with the book (and therefore with the character of Philippe) there is some bitter irony in Raoul's belief that Philippe shall remain 'in perfect health'...
All reviewers shall receive either horseback riding lessons from the viscount, or violin lessons from M. Daae, their choice :) (I tried to ask Erik for singing lessons, but he punjab'd me O.o)
