He does not attend the next tea. At first they think perhaps he is merely late, but now the teapot has cooled and over an hour has passed and still he has not shown. His absence presses on Christine like a lead weight.
"How strange of our Opera Ghost to not appear." Giry remarks casually.
She is unprepared for the burst of sobs from Christine.
"Madame Giry! You need to check on him! Please, I need you to make sure he's okay! Something terrible has happened, I'm certain of it!"
Christine has visions of his underground home empty, all of his belongings packed and gone, spirited away to some unknown place where she will never see him anymore. Or worse, perhaps he has gone down into his coffin never to rise again.
She is nearly hysterical at this last thought, this image of him still and unmoving in that box that he uses for a bed that she hates so much.
Giry tries her best to calm her and assures her that she will travel underground to see what has happened.
Christine considers going herself, but she does not want to intrude if he truly does not wish to be around her - and if she should stumble in on his lifeless form she knew she would never recover.
Through her tears she tells Giry what occurred the previous week, how her feelings had grown and finally spilled out. How she had never wanted to hurt him by saying what she said, that she only wanted to be near to him. How she's offended him and ruined everything now. Giry pats Christine's hand and tries to reassure her, but she's uncertain of what exactly to say.
When Christine had quieted down and Giry felt it was safe to leave her, she took a lantern and headed down the corridor behind the secret door. She had not been down to his home as often as Christine, but she still knows the way and where to avoid traps.
It seems an eternity before she arrives. As she draws closer she hears organ music and she lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. He is still here, then.
She tries to make her footfalls louder so as not to startled him as she approaches. She calls out his name but she's unsure he can hear her over the music. It's on her third attempt that he stops playing.
"What do you want, Madame?" his voice booms out to her, but he does not turn to face her and she realizes that this is because he not wearing his mask.
"We were worried when you didn't show up tonight."
A pause.
"Christine was very worried about you, and I promised I'd look in on you for her."
"I am fine, as you can see. You may return and tell her so."
Madame Giry wonders if these two will ever be able to talk out their feelings without having to use her as the go between. She sighs. Her two wayward charges.
"She told me what she told you last week."
His fingers tense on the keys, and for a moment she's afraid that he's about to shout her. But when he replies, his tone is soft and sad.
"She had been drinking, Madame Giry. It does not count. She did not know what she was saying."
There's something in the resigned way that he states it that twists at Giry's heart.
"That may be, but she just told me her feelings on this matter before I came down here, and she hasn't had anything to drink today."
"You should not keep the poor girl in suspense as to my condition." he tries to dismiss her. "I'm sure she's imaging all sorts of morbid situations."
"She says you canceled her lessons."
"She does not need them anymore. She can play and write beautifully."
"She told me she still wishes to continue them. I think she likes having reason just to be around you."
"I do not think it wise for her to spend so much time around me."
Giry sighs. He is so stubborn once he gets an idea stuck in his mind.
"So you do not love her anymore?" she goads him.
He slams his fists down on the keys, the discordant notes making her wince.
"You know that is not the case!" his voice echoes off the walls.
He nearly turns to face her before he remembers himself and stays facing the organ.
"She will grow weary of me, Madame. She will grow weary and bored and wish to leave me, and that is something I cannot handle."
He could not let her in only to have her leave him yet again. It would utterly annihilate his soul, he was certain of it. If the poor girl was getting muddled thoughts over what she felt towards him, then there must be distance between them because he was not strong enough to sustain himself after she came to her senses and ended whatever it was they might have.
He could handle his unrequited feelings - had handled them for years. But to have her be his and then change her mind - that would be impossible for him to cope with.
"So what is your plan, Monsieur?" she asks softly. "To hide here in the dark forever? To never see her again?"
He's quiet for a moment, thinking.
"Please tell her that I am all right. I do not want her to worry over my wellbeing. Tell her that I am busy for now, but that I will see her after the new year if I have time."
Giry nods and takes his message upstairs.
