I need not have worried that Christine would be lonely. That damned boy was simply waiting for her return to whisk her away from his unknown rival. He flew into more than one misguided jealous rage before even knowing the physical nature of his competition. Christine made a habit of sitting down meekly while he whined, unsure of how to explain her mysterious disappearances, unable to admit the truth of her monstrous lover in the presence of so young and fine an Adonis as the Vicomte de Chagny.
But, I have moved forward with my tale, yet again. I have always been guilty of pacing too quickly, rushing to a denouement before one is due. But it is always much easier to dream of a better future than to wallow in a fetid present.
It began with a note upon her dressing room door:
Mademoiselle Daae,
Have you so quickly forgotten your dear friend, the boy who fetched your scarf from the sea? I deeply regret that we could not dine on the evening of your operatic triumph, and I would dearly love to celebrate your debut, two weeks after your success! I have left my card under your door. I hope I have not been too bold, Christine, for I took great joy in being reunited in our friendship after so many years! If I do not receive word from you shortly, I shall call very soon. That is a promise.
Fondest thoughts,
Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny
In hindsight, I should have removed the note upon discovering it tacked to the door. Yet, at the time, I was too drunk on what I perceived to be Christine's love and fidelity towards me, that I trusted she would handle the note and the Vicomte in an appropriate manner. After all, there had been an evening, not too long past, when I had witnessed the boy cavorting with whores, drunk on expensive wine, most likely. Christine had not been in his thoughts at the time; but she was a constant presence in my mind.
In truth, had I revealed to my beloved what I had seen on that evening, she might never have turned to Raoul when the tensions and questions began to mount between us, causing confusion in our relationship. In an effort to preserve her precious innocence, I had not told her of the boy's excursion, for, at the time, I had not considered him-nor any other handsome youth, a threat to my love.
I was rather foolish and overly confident then.
To think, I could have stopped the engagement, extinguished all possibilities of her betrayal, had I but only opened my mouth in a moment of selfishness. Instead, I had done what real lovers do- avoided any words that might have caused her sadness and pain. Not knowing that I would be the one to lose, I gave it all up in the name of the love I perceived in her.