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Chapter 4
I began to see Raoul regularly. It has been about a month since he came over for the first time. He usually comes over twice every week. His mother takes him, never his father. But I am actually kind of afraid of Raoul's Papa from what he says about him. He says that his father yells very often, and dislikes music, and Raoul also said he overheard him arguing with his mother about allowing Raoul to befriend me. We, however, did not care, other than the fact that I do not like it when people are displeased by me.
Aside from Father, of course, Raoul is my best friend. We share stories, play, and are inseparable when we are together.
Raoul is over at my house. We (me, Raoul, Daddy, and Madame DeChagny) are having a picnic in the attic. We were having dinner, and it was around sunset. The attic is the place where we have played the most, and we often have picnics in there, and tell stories. Daddy was telling an old Swedish tale. I have heard it many times, but Raoul and his mother had not. We were all, however, wrapped up in Daddy's story. I could have finished his sentences if I wanted to, but I did not.
After Daddy finished the story, Madame DeChagny whispered to me:
"I am glad that you are friends with Raoul. Not my entire family is, but I am. You and your father… you're not like most of the people that I know."
"That is a compliment?"
"Yes, my darling."
"Thank you."
"Christine? Do you want to hear about Little Lotte?" asked Raoul. We both loved that story.
"Yes, please!"
"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing…" Father started. It took him a week to tell me all of the story, in little parts, when I was very young. Now he tells the story as a whole. When I was little, he began to start calling me Little Lotte, like I am Lotte. Although I am not truly Lotte, I an very much like her. I look like her, and I love music and singing.
I listened to the story like is was a beautiful song.
"And that, is the story of Little Lotte and the Angel." said Daddy, as he always did to end the story.
I jumped into Daddy's lap. There was a brief moment of silence for no reason that I am aware of.
"Raoul, it is getting very late. We must go." said Madame.
"Yes, Maman." said Raoul. It must have been past his bedtime. Usually he would put up a fight to stay.
"Goodbye!" I said.
"Goodbye, Christine and Monsieur Daae." Said Madame.
"Goodbye." said Raoul.
Raoul and Madame left.
It was very dark, except for the many candles lit in the attic. I was still sitting in Daddy's lap.
My Daddy was an older man, with a few wrinkles on his face. He was very pale, with blond hair that was turning white and light blue eyes. He looked like he was Swedish. I do not. My mother, who died in birth of who was supposed to be my little brother (he died too-so sad!) when I was six, was French, and looked like me. That is how I know French, my mother always spoke it to me. I can barley remember her, but I do miss her very much
But I will always have Daddy. I love him more than I will ever love anyone.
"I love you, Daddy."
" I love you too, Little Lotte. Never doubt it. You make me very happy, just being around you."
" So do you." I snuggled in closer. Even when the world was in complete darkness, I had light and warmth as long as Father was alive. I was a happy person with Daddy.
"Will you sing me the lullaby?" I asked him. The lullaby is an old Swedish song-a lullaby-that my parents sang to me when I was a baby, and up until now.
"Of course, Child." said Father. He began to sing, and it started to soothe me, putting me to sleep while I was being carried to the bed.
"Good night, dear Christine."
"Goodnight, Daddy." I mumbled, before closing my eyes.
