Chapter Twenty Nine:
L'Bâtimentes et Façades
Nadir slammed the golden door-knocker into the enormous oaken double doors at the front entrance of the de Chagny mansion. Even with the gravity of the nature of his mission, he could not help but admire the ornate carvings that decorated these doors; fleurs-de-lis, mostly, with borders hinting of Victorian influence. It spoke of generations of wealth and power, and a definite claim to high culture and fashion. And yet, in the midst of all this grandeur, he found himself wondering if the de Chagnys had more wealth than sense.
One of the doors opened to reveal an affluently dressed doorman, who bowed to Nadir most gravely. "Good day to you, Monsieur."
"I am here to see the Vicomte, Raoul de Chagny," Nadir declared, feeling just the slightest bit ashamed of his more modest garb. But he raised his head proudly. He was still a Daroga, even if he was no longer in Persia.
"Very good, sir," the man said, retreating from the doorway so that Nadir might enter. He did so, trying not to appear too impressed by the behemoth entryway, with its marble flooring and silver statues. "Who might I say is calling?" the man asked.
"Chief Daroga Nadir Khan of Persia."
"Very good, Monsieur. If you will wait in the parlor, Master Raoul will be right with you."
He led Nadir into a heavily furnished sitting room, bedecked with ancient tapestries depicting the various conquests of the ancestors of the de Chagny line. He bade the Persian sit, and disappeared up the grand staircase. Nadir was left to ponder the exquisite paintings and tapestries, wondering if their images of gallant knights and famed romantics were merely fanciful lies to impress upon the guest the nobility of the de Chagnys. Eyeing a painting illustrating a certain Sébastien Grégoire de Chagny in the company of several scantily-clothed and doting angels, he decided that they were indeed just fanciful lies.
Nadir wondered if he was doing the right thing. When he'd promised Erik that he would come here and see as to Christine's condition, it was merely to get his enraged friend to stop hounding him. Erik had been going on about Christine for days, and it was wearing him ragged… But still, to promise such a ridiculous thing…! Why, Raoul didn't even know who he was, for Heaven's sake… But a promise was a promise.
He went over what he was going to say in his mind, starting to feel a bit nervous. 'Monsieur, I am a friend of Mlle. Daaé's, and many of her companions at the Opera Populaire have been most anxious to make sure that she is indeed safe and well.' And the Vicomte would say, 'Oh, very well then; Christine darling, come in here.' or perhaps 'How dare you impugn my honor by suggesting that I would harm Christine? Guards, run this man through!'
Nadir wasn't sure which it would be, and had thought about bringing a bodyguard. But such an action would merely show this Vicomte that he was apprehensive—and that was unacceptable. So instead, he had brought merely a dagger and a muttered prayer that nothing would go wrong.
He stood as the Vicomte himself entered the room. Raoul de Chagny was handsome enough, he supposed, what with his feminine complexion and high, aristocratic eyebrows; his eyes were dark, and there was a slight murkiness to them that hinted of anxiety. His suit was of the finest ebony-colored wool, trimmed with gold embroidery, and accented by the ornate rapier hanging from his belt. Yes, the very picture of French aristocracy… And for one despairing moment, Nadir feared that even Erik's genius and talent would be no match for this gallant peacock. But he thrust away this thought as disloyal and absurd. 'Often a noble face hides filthy ways', he quoted silently, and sat a little straighter.
The Vicomte bowed, and Nadir did likewise. "My greeting to you, Monsieur Khan," Raoul said formally. "Please, have a seat." Nadir did. He opened his mouth to speak, but apparently the Vicomte wasn't finished. "It is an honor to have the Chief Daroga of Persia in my home; to what do I owe this privilege?"
Nadir decided not to inform the Vicomte that he was retired. "Monsieur, I am a friend of Mlle. Daaé's, and many of her companions at the Opera—"
"Ah yes," Raoul waved a hand. "I understand that her disappearance has caused quite a panic. Please send them my apologies. Christine, you see, was overly-strained with all the commotion—not just replacing La Carlotta as Diva, but"—he lowered his voice confidentially—"the Opera Ghost has been causing her quite a bit of fright. She requested a few days reprieve, and I obliged her."
Nadir did not know what to say. It had been almost a week since Christine's disappearance… From the way Erik spoke of him, he decided to distrust this man until proven otherwise. "That is good to hear, Monsieur," he said finally. "Might I see her, that I might convey my relief?"
Raoul did not seem disconcerted in the least. "Why, of course! What an excellent idea!" He clapped his hands imperiously, and a serving maid appeared in the doorway.
"Yes, Monsieur?"
"Have Christine brought down, Victoria. Tell her there is a friend to see her."
The maid curtseyed and vanished up the stairs.
Raoul and Nadir discussed innocent topics until her return, such as the upcoming Idomeneo, and the great talent that Christine possessed. When the maid did return, with Christine somewhat leaning on her for support, both men stood. Raoul's smile was dazzling. "Ah, my iridescent inamorata—may I present Monsieur Khan. He says your friends at the Opera Populaire have been worried about you."
Christine stared at him for a moment, as if trying to comprehend the meaning of his words. The maid helped her into an armchair and then backed away. "Will you be requiring anything else, Monsieur de Chagny?" she asked sweetly.
"No, thank you, Victoria." Raoul waved a dismissing hand, and the maid disappeared. He seated himself back in his chair.
Nadir remained standing. Stepping forward, he kissed Christine's delicate hand. "It is wonderful to see you again, Mademoiselle."
Christine nodded absently, a light crease appearing in her brow as she tried to concentrate her clouded mind. "Yes," she said slowly. "It's nice… to see you… too."
"Are you alright?" he asked concernedly.
"Of course she is," Raoul interceded. "She's just a little tired. Aren't you, dearest?" Christine nodded dumbly. "She had an allergic reaction to something she ate last night, and the medicine made her a little lightheaded."
Nadir retreated to his seat, opting not to question this explanation. "How long will you plan on staying with the Vicomte?" he asked lightly. "Idomeneo will not be the same without you, Mademoiselle."
Raoul looked surprised for the first time that day. "Surely they don't expect Christine to perform?"
"Her part has been kept open," Nadir invented, hoping he was right. Perhaps the girl would consent to return if she thought she had a duty to the opera house.
"Oh." Raoul looked slightly deflated. "Well, they'll just have to get La Carlotta to play Princess Ilia, I suppose. Christine has missed too many rehearsals to perform at such a late date. I wanted her to wait until the opera was over before coming to stay with me, but she wanted to get used to living in the de Chagny House as soon as possible." He shrugged a shoulder with an air of wistful gallantry. "And who am I to stand in the way of a lady's wishes?"
"What do you mean?" Nadir asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"Why, we're to be married," the Vicomte informed him, pressing Christine's unresponsive hand to his lips. "Isn't that right, my love?"
Christine nodded slowly, seeming barely able to follow the conversation.
Nadir wondered at this; she seemed to be… lacking somewhat more in mental fortitude than usual. She didn't seem like the girl that Erik fell in love with—from his description of her, she was much smarter than this. "But won't you continue to perform at the Opera Populaire?"
Christine frowned, trying to sort out her thoughts. There was something in the back of her mind that ached with the thought of the opera house; there was something there… something that she missed terribly. But what was it? A person, perhaps? She couldn't remember… "Raoul," she said at last, "something at the… opera house… There's something… I—I need to go there."
Raoul had to fight to hide his surprise. "But of course, my sweet—whatever you like. Yes, I suppose you'd like to see it one more time before we go to Greece."
"Greece?" Nadir asked sharply. This meeting was not going at all how he had planned.
"Yes—our honeymoon," the Vicomte explained distractedly. "Why don't we go to the premiere of Idomeneo, Christine? Yes, that would be very enjoyable—I've always loved the scene in act three where Ilia asks the breeze to carry her love to Idamante… It invokes such a pathos, a glorious rise of emotion! What do you say, my dear?"
Christine nodded again.
"Well then, it's settled!" Raoul stood, and Nadir followed suit. "We'll see you then, Monsieur Khan. My deepest appreciation for your interest in Christine's wellbeing."
Nadir knew a dismissal when he heard one. Bowing, he kissed Christine's hand again and left the mansion. All during the carriage ride back to the Opera Populaire, he puzzled over his confrontation with the notorious Vicomte. There was something suspicious about his domination of the conversation, but what could he do about it? And, more importantly, what would he tell Erik?
