After the Ashes: The Phantom of the Opera After a Year
Chapter VII: Distant Bells and Distorted Secrets Raoul's Point of View
Christine smiled. I sighed, feeling somewhat relieved. Full of joy, and expectations. I knew she was feeling the same way; I could see it in her eyes. But as the afternoon wore on, I yawned. Taking another sip of brandy, I sighed. Discussing colors, and fabrics, and location, and guest lists... Finally when the subject of Christine's dress seemed unending, I couldn't hold my patience for something I was horridly trying to be interested in. This is worse than talking politics with noblemen, I thought to myself. "Isn't it a tradition for the groom not to see the bride in her dress before the wedding?" I asked compulsively, just before I felt a smarting slap hit my shoulder. "Raoul," Christine giggled, "Don't you want to be a part of this wonderful event?" "Quite frankly, No," I said, surprising myself.
But before Christine could open her mouth in protest, there was a knock at the door. It was Mme. Giry, and Meg. Christine greeted them both with warm hugs and a big smile. I couldn't help a grin from splitting my own features, as they sat down with tea, and began their girlish chatter about the wedding. I sighed to myself. I had never been so happy to see that girl in my life. But I contradicted that thought; well, maybe I had been just a bit happier one other time. So quietly attempting to excuse myself, before I was asked to join their excited prattle.
But just as I was about to sequester myself om the study, I felt a touch against my arm. "Come with me, Monsieur," that rigid French accent said, "There is something you need to know. Something about Erik." I gulped. There was and always has been such a mysterious aura surrounding Mme. Giry. Something that told me that she knew something I didn't. But was I going to find out?
So I led her in to the study, where after sitting down, I received a cold, rigid stare that sent whatever remains of the smile I had away, along with any of the warmth from her eyes. "Monsieur," she said, "He has been up to something." "But Mme. Giry," I heard myself saying," How far will he go?" "His plans I do not know. " she replied. "But as you have seen, he will stop at nothing. You are not the only one, Monsieur, Myself and the others at the populaire have also received his warnings. He is planning something. "But what, Mme.? What?" "From the still icy state in her eyes, I received no comfort, nor reply. "Be careful," was all she said. I moved my hand toward eye level, and attempted to smile a little. But my smile was only returned with a brief nod, and a small piece of parchment. It's wax seal broken, but I could still make out the shapes in the dim candlelight. The shape of a skull. I gently lifted the seal, and pulled out the ominous writings within.
But knowing how Christine would react, I didn't want to ruin the amazing prospect at the wedding, I brushed those thoughts away, after reading. Instead, I left the study and Mme. Giry, silently humming to myself. Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. I was so distracted in my thoughts, that I ran in to a breathless, laughing Christine. "It's true, my love," she said. "Soon we will." So with those thoughts in mind, I left for bed. Thinking of those brown eyes, sparking with laughter, and seeing them forever.