Chapter 9
Yulia cursed herself as she fumbled around her tiny kitchen. What on earth had possessed her to cook dinner for Christine, Raoul, and Meg? However, she was determined to put on a good show and at the very least, everything would be edible. It was not that she could not cook well, it was merely a matter of not being able to cook French food well.
She sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. She wondered if the vicomte would even come, though he probably would, if only for Christine's sake.
At least she had finally decided a masquerade costume, which was good, as the masked ball was less than a month away now.
After several laborious hours, Yulia set the table and went to straighten her hair and change into more formal clothes.
When her guests finally arrived, the girl was exhausted, but managed to play hostess properly.
Christine seemed happier and more rested than she had in months, as did Raoul. Meg Giry was her normal, chattering self. While the ballet dancer and Christine exchanged Opera House gossip, Yulia succeeded in luring Raoul into a political debate, which he lost.
As they were preparing to leave, Christine said, "Raoul, please don't wait for me; I need to speak with Yulia about something."
The young man stared at her. "Christine, I'll escort home; it's late as it is…"
Christine smiled warmly and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be fine, Raoul. Goodnight Meg, goodnight, Raoul."
Raoul hesitated, but little Giry dragged him out of Yulia's flat.
"Oh, Yulia, I'm so happy!" Christine exclaimed.
"I've noticed."
She clasped Yulia's hands in her own. "He's purposed to me, Yulia! I'm engaged!"
Yulia's jaw dropped.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, no! I'm just shocked…Oh, Christine, that's…wonderful."
She grinned. "A new life for the new year…it's like an early Christmas present!"
"I'm sure it is…" Yulia muttered.
"Have you made a costume yet?"
"Yes, one that will truly be…nostalgic for the Parisians."
"I can't remember ever being this happy!"
"What about when you first heard your angel speak?"
Christine paled. "You don't think he…knows, do you? Of course not! He's gone! Gone, gone, gone…"
"Calm down," Yulia said firmly.
The chorus girl obeyed.
Yulia gave her a false smile. "I've very happy for you, Daaé, I really am. You're very lucky." She looked her over. "Didn't he give you a ring?"
The other woman pulled a chain out from under her collar. "It's a secret, for now. You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"I won't tell a living soul."
Christine sighed dreamily. "Oh, it's so late! I'd forgotten you had to do all this cooking by yourself! Do you need help cleaning up?"
"No, I'll be fine."
"Alright, right. Goodnight, and thank you!"
Yulia paced around her tiny home like an agitated cat. They had succeeded in ruining her well-thought-out plan! Blast them! If they were engaged, then the vicomte must have put his doubts aside, or maybe…
Yulia sipped her tea and began to plot again. Perhaps, he had purposed simply to take Daaé's mind off of the ghost; after all, once they were married, he could make her leave the Opera House. Maybe, he had purposed so quickly out of fear that his childhood friend really was beginning to lose her mind. If they married, then he would be the prince coming to save the princess from her captor.
And where did that leave her? Yulia smiled slightly. "I suppose I'll play the witch," she thought. And what better place to play her game than at the masked ball?
"A victim's ball, indeed," she said to herself, satisfied. She would get Raoul away from Daaé, she would run to Erik, and then she would leave. Raoul would no doubt want his fiancé back, and the ghost would be lost in despair. Then she would step in, deliver him, and he, in turn, would give her refuge from the frivolous world of men. Yulia smiled. Everything would be fine, since everyone would be happy. She was sure of it.
Yulia cursed herself as she fumbled around her tiny kitchen. What on earth had possessed her to cook dinner for Christine, Raoul, and Meg? However, she was determined to put on a good show and at the very least, everything would be edible. It was not that she could not cook well, it was merely a matter of not being able to cook French food well.
She sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. She wondered if the vicomte would even come, though he probably would, if only for Christine's sake.
At least she had finally decided a masquerade costume, which was good, as the masked ball was less than a month away now.
After several laborious hours, Yulia set the table and went to straighten her hair and change into more formal clothes.
When her guests finally arrived, the girl was exhausted, but managed to play hostess properly.
Christine seemed happier and more rested than she had in months, as did Raoul. Meg Giry was her normal, chattering self. While the ballet dancer and Christine exchanged Opera House gossip, Yulia succeeded in luring Raoul into a political debate, which he lost.
As they were preparing to leave, Christine said, "Raoul, please don't wait for me; I need to speak with Yulia about something."
The young man stared at her. "Christine, I'll escort home; it's late as it is…"
Christine smiled warmly and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be fine, Raoul. Goodnight Meg, goodnight, Raoul."
Raoul hesitated, but little Giry dragged him out of Yulia's flat.
"Oh, Yulia, I'm so happy!" Christine exclaimed.
"I've noticed."
She clasped Yulia's hands in her own. "He's purposed to me, Yulia! I'm engaged!"
Yulia's jaw dropped.
"Is something wrong?"
"No, no! I'm just shocked…Oh, Christine, that's…wonderful."
She grinned. "A new life for the new year…it's like an early Christmas present!"
"I'm sure it is…" Yulia muttered.
"Have you made a costume yet?"
"Yes, one that will truly be…nostalgic for the Parisians."
"I can't remember ever being this happy!"
"What about when you first heard your angel speak?"
Christine paled. "You don't think he…knows, do you? Of course not! He's gone! Gone, gone, gone…"
"Calm down," Yulia said firmly.
The chorus girl obeyed.
Yulia gave her a false smile. "I've very happy for you, Daaé, I really am. You're very lucky." She looked her over. "Didn't he give you a ring?"
The other woman pulled a chain out from under her collar. "It's a secret, for now. You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"I won't tell a living soul."
Christine sighed dreamily. "Oh, it's so late! I'd forgotten you had to do all this cooking by yourself! Do you need help cleaning up?"
"No, I'll be fine."
"Alright, right. Goodnight, and thank you!"
Yulia paced around her tiny home like an agitated cat. They had succeeded in ruining her well-thought-out plan! Blast them! If they were engaged, then the vicomte must have put his doubts aside, or maybe…
Yulia sipped her tea and began to plot again. Perhaps, he had purposed simply to take Daaé's mind off of the ghost; after all, once they were married, he could make her leave the Opera House. Maybe, he had purposed so quickly out of fear that his childhood friend really was beginning to lose her mind. If they married, then he would be the prince coming to save the princess from her captor.
And where did that leave her? Yulia smiled slightly. "I suppose I'll play the witch," she thought. And what better place to play her game than at the masked ball?
"A victim's ball, indeed," she said to herself, satisfied. She would get Raoul away from Daaé, she would run to Erik, and then she would leave. Raoul would no doubt want his fiancé back, and the ghost would be lost in despair. Then she would step in, deliver him, and he, in turn, would give her refuge from the frivolous world of men. Yulia smiled. Everything would be fine, since everyone would be happy. She was sure of it.