Chapter 7
"Have you thought of a costume, yet?" Meg asked as dazed Yulia.
"Hmm? What?"
"A costume for the masked ball, silly!"
"But, that's over four months away…"
"Yes, but you need to start soon. You're costume must be as elaborate as possible!"
"What are you going as?"
Meg faltered. "Um, it's a surprise."
Yulia nodded. "I see. Well, so is mine. Oh, for heaven's sake, stop twitching like that! Can't any of you ballet rats stand still?"
The younger girl grinned. "You need to take things less seriously. I'm going to lunch with Monsieur le Vicomte and Christine. Would you like to join us?"
"If it's their luncheon, shouldn't they invite me?" Yulia asked.
Meg considered this for a long time. "No."
Yulia ate and conversed with rigid formality as she still tried to decide how to handle Raoul. Although he seemed like a genuinely sweet young man, he still took the finer things in life for granted. Lost in thought, she completely missed jovial Christine's lack of chatter until Meg brought it up.
"Christine, what's wrong?"
In a hushed voice, she explained, "I haven't heard a word out of him. I think he may be plotting something terrible, Meg."
"Oh, Christine! There's no such things as ghosts!" Raoul exclaimed.
"Then how do you explain a chandelier being dropped at her feet?" Meg asked dryly, and, upon realizing what she had said, turned profusely red and covered her mouth with her hands.
Yulia laughed. "You should listen to M. le Vicomte, Daaé. However, little Giry is right. If you're in so much danger, why haven't you left the Opera House?"
Christine and Raoul looked at each other.
"Weren't we supposed to?" Christine asked.
"I—" Raoul stroked his chin as he pondered the matter. "There haven't been any more incidents," he finally concluded, "therefore, there is no reason to leave. You're safe, Christine, I promise; I won't let anything happen to you."
Yulia smiled sweetly. "Oh, Daaé, you're so lucky to have a man like Monsieur le Vicomte! I'm sure that if the Opera ghost ever came after you, he'd be willing to fight to the death for you! Oh, it's so romantic! Wouldn't you, Monsieur?"
"Uh—yes, yes, of course!"
Christine and Meg stared at him.
"He won't come after you Christine. Trust me, you're perfectly safe!"
Christine stood up abruptly, and Raoul awkwardly stood in suit with her.
"It's alright, Raoul. I'm just going to freshen up a bit."
As she left, Meg demanded, "You won't let anything happen to you, will you, Monsieur le Vicomte?"
"I'm sure Monsieur le Vicomte is as valiant as his noble birth suggests," Yulia said.
"I'll protect her; I won't let that fiend anywhere near her. As for you two, please, you may call 'Raoul,'" he said.
"It's not just the ghost; Daaé has…issues. She still thinks like a child. She's sweet and innocent, but she's so naïve…I don't think she's ready to grow up yet, to be a mother…" Yulia commented.
Raoul seemed to notice the stress of her words and withdrew into thought. Meg, on the other hand, was eager for lighter conversation, and Yulia politely obliged.
Over the next few weeks, Yulia did her utmost to go slightly over social courtesy towards Raoul and Christine, in and out of the Opera, but never reaching the chipper extremes of the ballet rats and younger chorus girls. She was, to all appearances, concerned for Christine and flattering towards Raoul. Secretly, Yulia complimented herself on her fine acting abilities. It was a slow process, but it was heading along nicely. Doubt, even subconsciously, was edging its way into the young vicomte's mind.
Needless to say, Yulia was a bit shocked when she discovered a blank envelope in her dressing room. Scowling, she opened it, wondering what she had done wrong this time.
Dear Yulia Alexandrovna,
I compliment you for you behavior towards Mlle. Daaé. I merely hope that your words of friendship to her are sincere.
As a personal note to you, put some emotion in your singing. Your ambitious dreams of promotion will never be met unless you become your part, however small it is.
-O.G.
Yulia glared at the red ink disdainfully. Seizing a pen, she wrote a quick note at the bottom of her letter.
My dearest M. Erik,
I would not play with Mlle. Daaé's fragile heart and mind by offering false friendship. On the matter of my singing, you should send you complaints to the chorus master; he complained that I sounded too depressed.
Yours,
Y. A. Kazakova
With that, she resealed the envelope and left it on her dresser. She decided not to wonder how he had slipped it into her room.
"Have you thought of a costume, yet?" Meg asked as dazed Yulia.
"Hmm? What?"
"A costume for the masked ball, silly!"
"But, that's over four months away…"
"Yes, but you need to start soon. You're costume must be as elaborate as possible!"
"What are you going as?"
Meg faltered. "Um, it's a surprise."
Yulia nodded. "I see. Well, so is mine. Oh, for heaven's sake, stop twitching like that! Can't any of you ballet rats stand still?"
The younger girl grinned. "You need to take things less seriously. I'm going to lunch with Monsieur le Vicomte and Christine. Would you like to join us?"
"If it's their luncheon, shouldn't they invite me?" Yulia asked.
Meg considered this for a long time. "No."
Yulia ate and conversed with rigid formality as she still tried to decide how to handle Raoul. Although he seemed like a genuinely sweet young man, he still took the finer things in life for granted. Lost in thought, she completely missed jovial Christine's lack of chatter until Meg brought it up.
"Christine, what's wrong?"
In a hushed voice, she explained, "I haven't heard a word out of him. I think he may be plotting something terrible, Meg."
"Oh, Christine! There's no such things as ghosts!" Raoul exclaimed.
"Then how do you explain a chandelier being dropped at her feet?" Meg asked dryly, and, upon realizing what she had said, turned profusely red and covered her mouth with her hands.
Yulia laughed. "You should listen to M. le Vicomte, Daaé. However, little Giry is right. If you're in so much danger, why haven't you left the Opera House?"
Christine and Raoul looked at each other.
"Weren't we supposed to?" Christine asked.
"I—" Raoul stroked his chin as he pondered the matter. "There haven't been any more incidents," he finally concluded, "therefore, there is no reason to leave. You're safe, Christine, I promise; I won't let anything happen to you."
Yulia smiled sweetly. "Oh, Daaé, you're so lucky to have a man like Monsieur le Vicomte! I'm sure that if the Opera ghost ever came after you, he'd be willing to fight to the death for you! Oh, it's so romantic! Wouldn't you, Monsieur?"
"Uh—yes, yes, of course!"
Christine and Meg stared at him.
"He won't come after you Christine. Trust me, you're perfectly safe!"
Christine stood up abruptly, and Raoul awkwardly stood in suit with her.
"It's alright, Raoul. I'm just going to freshen up a bit."
As she left, Meg demanded, "You won't let anything happen to you, will you, Monsieur le Vicomte?"
"I'm sure Monsieur le Vicomte is as valiant as his noble birth suggests," Yulia said.
"I'll protect her; I won't let that fiend anywhere near her. As for you two, please, you may call 'Raoul,'" he said.
"It's not just the ghost; Daaé has…issues. She still thinks like a child. She's sweet and innocent, but she's so naïve…I don't think she's ready to grow up yet, to be a mother…" Yulia commented.
Raoul seemed to notice the stress of her words and withdrew into thought. Meg, on the other hand, was eager for lighter conversation, and Yulia politely obliged.
Over the next few weeks, Yulia did her utmost to go slightly over social courtesy towards Raoul and Christine, in and out of the Opera, but never reaching the chipper extremes of the ballet rats and younger chorus girls. She was, to all appearances, concerned for Christine and flattering towards Raoul. Secretly, Yulia complimented herself on her fine acting abilities. It was a slow process, but it was heading along nicely. Doubt, even subconsciously, was edging its way into the young vicomte's mind.
Needless to say, Yulia was a bit shocked when she discovered a blank envelope in her dressing room. Scowling, she opened it, wondering what she had done wrong this time.
Dear Yulia Alexandrovna,
I compliment you for you behavior towards Mlle. Daaé. I merely hope that your words of friendship to her are sincere.
As a personal note to you, put some emotion in your singing. Your ambitious dreams of promotion will never be met unless you become your part, however small it is.
-O.G.
Yulia glared at the red ink disdainfully. Seizing a pen, she wrote a quick note at the bottom of her letter.
My dearest M. Erik,
I would not play with Mlle. Daaé's fragile heart and mind by offering false friendship. On the matter of my singing, you should send you complaints to the chorus master; he complained that I sounded too depressed.
Yours,
Y. A. Kazakova
With that, she resealed the envelope and left it on her dresser. She decided not to wonder how he had slipped it into her room.