Chapter 3
Nearly a week after her luncheon with Meg Giry, Yulia decided that Christine had had enough time to calm down. The girl obviously knew more than she was admitting to her colleagues and her vicomte, and her mysterious behavior was beginning to irk Yulia more than her usual flightiness did.
"Christine Daaé, are you there?" Yulia called, rapping lightly on her dressing room door. "Daaé, open up! Giry said you haven't left yet!" Annoyed that she was being ignored, Yulia deftly turned the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked. "Christine? Daaé, where are you?" Hearing voices coming towards her, Yulia hid in a corner of the dark room.
"I'm fine, really, Meg," Christine said.
"But you've been avoiding everyone…even Monsieur le Vicomte, even me!" the little ballerina chirped with concerned.
"I'm fine."
"Oh, Christine…you're so pale…you've never looked this worn."
"I'm perfectly fine. Good night, Meg." Christine closed the door on her friend and lit a lamp, forcing Yulia to shrink farther back in her corner; she was in no mood to explain why she had been hiding in Christine's dressing room.
"You still hear me, don't you? You're still watching me, like a snake! The least you could do is answer me!"
Yulia, fearing Christine knew of her presence, ran through several explanations until she noticed the chorus girl address her mirror.
"I'm not worth it, you know…I'm not worth your instruction, your adoration, your lo—" She stopped and shook her head. "I forgive you for lying to me; I'd still be your pupil if you had left it there. I still wanted to be your pupil, I still do…but you must cease this madness! You would kill Raoul, wouldn't you? But you know I'd kill myself then, too. And he…he wants to take me somewhere safe. I'm nothing but a caged bird to both of you!" she cried.
"But you…you frighten me. Be my angel again, please. I know you hear me! You've grown so cold…I can feel it in the air around me. Oh, God! Erik, don't leave me like this, enduring this horrific fear daily! Perhaps it would be for the best if you really do disappear, become a real phantom…No! No! I didn't mean that! I'm sorry! Forgive me, Angel of Music! Your are music…all the pain and anger…I'm sorry, I can't stay like this…Answer me!"
She continued to stand in front of the mirror for several long moments, and then finally she dosed her lamp and left the room.
Cramped, Yulia crawled out from her hiding space. So, Daaé's angel was the Opera Ghost! What a valuable piece of information that was. And he had a name, too. Erik…
Yulia re-lit the lamp and went to examine the mirror. If Christine's inane ranting true, then this man was somehow watching her, and given the direction of her speech, the large piece of glass had something to do with it. Yulia pushed the glass and stepped back, but nothing happened.
"Hello?" she whispered. "Monsieur Erik?" she asked, louder.
Scowling, she began to run her hands along the edges on the mirror, until she cut her hand on a sharp edge. Bandaging it with a handkerchief from Christine's dressing table, she pushed down on the concealed switch.
The mirror swung open like a door, revealing a dark passageway. Yulia took the lamp and peered down it.
"Oh, well isn't this lovely," she muttered. She pulled up on the switch, closing the mirror. She blew out the lamp, and headed to her home to dwell on her new discovery.
Nearly a week after her luncheon with Meg Giry, Yulia decided that Christine had had enough time to calm down. The girl obviously knew more than she was admitting to her colleagues and her vicomte, and her mysterious behavior was beginning to irk Yulia more than her usual flightiness did.
"Christine Daaé, are you there?" Yulia called, rapping lightly on her dressing room door. "Daaé, open up! Giry said you haven't left yet!" Annoyed that she was being ignored, Yulia deftly turned the doorknob and was surprised to find it unlocked. "Christine? Daaé, where are you?" Hearing voices coming towards her, Yulia hid in a corner of the dark room.
"I'm fine, really, Meg," Christine said.
"But you've been avoiding everyone…even Monsieur le Vicomte, even me!" the little ballerina chirped with concerned.
"I'm fine."
"Oh, Christine…you're so pale…you've never looked this worn."
"I'm perfectly fine. Good night, Meg." Christine closed the door on her friend and lit a lamp, forcing Yulia to shrink farther back in her corner; she was in no mood to explain why she had been hiding in Christine's dressing room.
"You still hear me, don't you? You're still watching me, like a snake! The least you could do is answer me!"
Yulia, fearing Christine knew of her presence, ran through several explanations until she noticed the chorus girl address her mirror.
"I'm not worth it, you know…I'm not worth your instruction, your adoration, your lo—" She stopped and shook her head. "I forgive you for lying to me; I'd still be your pupil if you had left it there. I still wanted to be your pupil, I still do…but you must cease this madness! You would kill Raoul, wouldn't you? But you know I'd kill myself then, too. And he…he wants to take me somewhere safe. I'm nothing but a caged bird to both of you!" she cried.
"But you…you frighten me. Be my angel again, please. I know you hear me! You've grown so cold…I can feel it in the air around me. Oh, God! Erik, don't leave me like this, enduring this horrific fear daily! Perhaps it would be for the best if you really do disappear, become a real phantom…No! No! I didn't mean that! I'm sorry! Forgive me, Angel of Music! Your are music…all the pain and anger…I'm sorry, I can't stay like this…Answer me!"
She continued to stand in front of the mirror for several long moments, and then finally she dosed her lamp and left the room.
Cramped, Yulia crawled out from her hiding space. So, Daaé's angel was the Opera Ghost! What a valuable piece of information that was. And he had a name, too. Erik…
Yulia re-lit the lamp and went to examine the mirror. If Christine's inane ranting true, then this man was somehow watching her, and given the direction of her speech, the large piece of glass had something to do with it. Yulia pushed the glass and stepped back, but nothing happened.
"Hello?" she whispered. "Monsieur Erik?" she asked, louder.
Scowling, she began to run her hands along the edges on the mirror, until she cut her hand on a sharp edge. Bandaging it with a handkerchief from Christine's dressing table, she pushed down on the concealed switch.
The mirror swung open like a door, revealing a dark passageway. Yulia took the lamp and peered down it.
"Oh, well isn't this lovely," she muttered. She pulled up on the switch, closing the mirror. She blew out the lamp, and headed to her home to dwell on her new discovery.