Bien que vous as sûrement égaré
Prenz courage de grâce,
tes pas retracent
Pauvre errance un
All those present in the vast theater halted what tasks they were assigned to in order to listen. It was not their fault; anyone in their positions would have done the same. The Opera Populaire was debuting a new work of Gilbert and Sullivan, The Pirates of Penzance, translated courtesy of a very proud Firman. Secretly, the cast didn't think much of the new opera; clearly it was the management attempting to show those above them that the Opera Populaire was indeed keeping up with what was new and in vogue in the literary world. To the people who actually made the operas happen, it was just more unnecessary work. The Opera Populaire already had a fine assortment of operas for which props, backdrops, and costumes already existed. Besides, but two years ago the Opera Populaire added another opera to its repertoire. Where, the stagehands often asked themselves, was the need for another new production? Consequently, the cast and crew downplayed the opera to the best of their ability, just shy of completely jeopardizing their employment. The music was never praised, the choreography was said to be clumsy, and general consensus of the story was that it was complete rubbish.
Today marked the first time the actors and actresses sang the various arias and duets from Act I with full orchestra accompaniment, not quite a rehearsal but nevertheless the first time the crew heard how it was sung. Christine Daae had just started into Poor Wand'ring One, Mabels' Act I aria. One could not help but listen. Surely this was the voice that greeted you at Heaven's gates! No matter how disgruntled the employees were and how determined they were to disapprove of this opera in every regard, at the end of the aria, Christine was universally applauded by all present, with pure astonishment and admiration in their eyes.
It was astonishing how much progress she had made since being promoted to the leading soprano. If Christine had sung like an angel on that fateful day so many months ago, she was surely a goddess now. Even La Carlotta had been forced to admit that the girl had remarkable talent. The curious thing was, she insisted that she had no teacher, that she was entirely self-taught. This statement was a never ending source of gossip for the workers behind the scenes.
Joseph Buqet insisted that Christine had made a pact with the devil, that he had seen in the company of the Opera Ghost. Buqet was more than happy to repeat the story to anyone who cared to listen.
"Now, ya see – it was like this. The opera closed and after each show I have to stay late and fix the ropes for the next day. Ya know how many props and backdrops I have to pick up and drop all the time? Yea' with 'his damned thing I have to take ev'rything up at the drop of a pin only to drop the blasted things down 'gain. 'nyway, I was sittin' in me corner o'er there, you know the one by the dancers' rehearsin' room? Yeah? I was sitting there real quiet tryin' to undo one of those damned ropes, it got tangled durin' the show and I didn' wanna come in early an' get it undone 'fore the next one. So I'm sittin' there, minding my own business when I hears footsteps, real light ones, and quick. So I look, and its Christine Daae. Now, I says to myself, what could a pretty thing like 'er be doin' 'ere at this time 'a night? So I decide to sit real quiet and see what she's gonna do. She walks a bit farther and a few meters down the hall she stops all'a sudden. Then I hear her voice, think she said somethin' like 'Where are you?', can't be sure, she spoke so quiet like. The all'a sudden, I see a man melt out 'a the shadows. No I mean it! One minute no one 'us there, next the shape of a man is there! 'Nyway, I hears them talkin', the man lifts his arm and puts 'is cloak 'round Christine and soon as I blink they've up and disappeared. Only one man that can do that, the Phantom! So I thinks, who would be 'anding 'round wif a devil like that? Someone who made a deal wif the devil 'imself! I'm tellin' ya, it makes sense! 'Ow can she sing so good and be 'anging 'round wif the phantom at the very same time?"
Of course, very few believed this story. After all, Buqet was rarely seen without his flask. But he insisted that he had been entirely sober at the time. But it was curious how Christine had allegedly managed without any teacher. Very curious….
Christine fetched a glance behind her. With more than a few meters between them and the door, surely they were out of earshot by now.
"Erik this must stop!" Christine hissed.
Erik looked at her and cocked his head.
"I find our current arrangement quite suitable, is there something troubling you about it?"
Christine fixed Erik with a look that can only be described as someone who cannot believe the ignorance of the other, but does not have the energy to fully show incredulity.
"Erik. You're the opera ghost! Surely you've heard the rumors!"
Erik laughed. "Oh, you mean the one about you being a witch who brews a potion made of the blood of virgins each night to improve your voice? Surely you see that it's the professional envy of a minority that creates it and weak minds that spread it."
"No, the new one, the rumors about us."
Erik immediately sobered.
"Ah, when Buqet saw us. God damn the man, I thought he had left like everyone else! But no matter, no one seriously believes the word of a drunk, not even these superstitious fools."
"Erik, I don't want you to become discovered and you have to admit that the whole affair is very suspicious to anyone."
Erik pondered this as he led Christine down the passage.
"Well, people have already laughed Buqet's account off as the hallucination of a drunk. I wouldn't worry, I'm very sure the whole rumor will die down very soon. The only problem I can foresee is Buqet pressing the issue and thinking himself the detective of the opera. But even so, don't worry yourself about it. Buqet has been more depressed than ever lately, you don't know what he might happen to him. He might become so… tangled in his own problems that this would become the very least of his worries."
Christine had to agree, Erik made a good point.
"You're right, I've heard that Buqet has even more problems at home recently. His wife miscarried again and blames him for it. He'll probably forget the whole thing after a while. But still, there is the question of how I'm supposed to have been able to improve my voice."
Erik shrugged. "Let them wonder, let them envy you with each and every fiber of their being. They don't deserve you, no one in that world could deserve you. Ergo, consequently, they don't deserve the truth."
By this time they had reached the staircase that frightened the claustrophobic Christine so.
Upon reaching this landmark, Erik paused and gently grasped her by the shoulders.
"Please trust me. Everything will be alright. You will have your music, they will not have the truth, and you and I can sing forever without any of them bothering us. Now come, we have a lot of work to do this evening. Your lower register needs work and some of your constants were a bit unclear. You've come so far and I am so proud of you but you can sing more perfect still."
Upon finishing this speech, Erik deftly bent over and opened the trap door that hid the staircase and gestured for Christine to enter the small opening.
Christine mutely nodded, but remained where she was. Once again, Christine was overcome by anxiety of that seemingly long descent into damp, cramped darkness as she was. She had never told Erik about her fear, afraid of displeasing him and sparking one of his moods. Luckily, they only rarely spoke during the journey down, preferring to wait until the comfort of the boat and the knowledge that once more, the underbelly of the opera hid them. It had been easy for Christine to hide her fear from Erik. But tonight, he noticed the fear on her face.
"Christine," he murmured, "really, there is nothing to worry about. Such ridiculous rumors never went anywhere."
"Erik…It's…not that." Christine looked down in embarrassment. "I'm claustrophobic; going down this staircase isn't the most pleasant experience for me. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to cause you any unnecessary worry. I'm fine, I just don't… like it."
Erik placed his fingers under Christine's chin and gently lifted her face up to meet his concerned gaze.
"Christine – you should have told me! I regret to say that there's no other way to get down to the lake from inside the opera, at least not one that's fit for a lady such as yourself to walk through. But, perhaps I can help."
Christine furrowed her eyebrows together.
"But how?"
"There is another way to the lake, a short cut if you will. But it is not as safe as the staircase."
Erik gazed at her in silence, indecision clearly written across his features.
"Christine, do you trust me?" he asked abruptly.
Christine's eyes briefly flickered away from and back to Erik's eyes, before replying in a small voice "Of course."
"Would you allow me to carry you?"
The boldness of this question surprised Christine. She had been raised to believe that there were only two circumstances in which a man should carry a woman: if she is injured or the two are married. She was neither. But to say no would not only leave her to now unnecessarily face her fears, but would hurt Erik's feelings at the same time. She saw little room for internal debate.
"Yes, Erik. I would."
Erik nodded and kicked the trap door closed.
He then bent down to place one of his long arms under Christine's knees and another supporting her back and stood back up with Christine firmly secured in his arms. Instinctively, Christine wrapped her arms around his neck.
Erik looked down at her. Never before had Erik been so close to her. She could see so many details in his face that had escaped her notice before, a curious circle of bright gold around the pupils of his exposed eye, a few stubborn hairs marring his otherwise perfectly shaven face, and shockingly, a pattern of very faint, obviously old scars scattered throughout the exposed side of his face. The white mask loomed closer than ever.
The mask…
Once more Christine was presented with a fresh opportunity to wonder what secret Erik could possibly be hiding.
It would be so incredibly easy for Christine to rip off the mask from this position. A few seconds, a flick of the wrist, and she would know.
Erik startled her out of her mesmerization.
"I need you to promise me that you will close your eyes and not open them until I tell you to. I assure you, the passage is very open, no smaller than the one we just came out of, but…Please, I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't see. It's not fit for you."
Christine nodded, closed her eyes, and buried her face into Erik's shoulder.
"I promise." she murmured into the rough cloth of his jacket.
"Thank you. It'll be quite a short trip, I promise."
Erik then left the dim light of the small crossroads behind and carried Christine into the darkness that waited for the two of them.