Chapter 11
Yulia, feeling uncharacteristically guilty, rushed to Christine's dressing room and was relieved the girl had forgotten, again, to lock it. Dropping off her masquerade mask in the room, she triggered the mirror mechanism and rushed through the dark passageways down to the concealed lake. There, she found a boat moored on the lake, and it dawned on her that the ghost had to have more than one way into his domain.
She looked at the black water grimly. She knew what one was supposed to do while swimming, but she had never tried it, and if she fell in, her heavy costume would surely weigh her down anyway.
Mustering her courage, she pushed the boat into the water, grabbed the pole, and gingerly stepped in, nearly screaming as it rocked beneath her. After taking several minutes to assure her balance, she slowly poled her way across the forbidding water.
After safely docking, she silently approached the structure that stood before her. As she ventured inside, she saw pieces of the Red Death costume strewn about. As she continued to creep through the abode, she finally found Erik with his back to her, sitting huddled on the floor in the middle of various musical scores. He wore only a shirt and pants, instead of his usual formal attire. When Yulia noticed his shoulders shaking, she wasn't sure whether to feel pity or disgust; he, a man, was crying, after making such a dreadful spectacle at the masked ball? Then she remembered the score he had thrown to the manager, and her original conflicting emotions from the first time she had heard his Don Juan played resurfaced, this time manifesting as anger rather than hysterical sobbing.
"You idiot! What did you think you were doing? I told you that music is dangerous! You can't expect them to—"
He whirled about and faced her; Yulia inhaled sharply at seeing his unmasked face.
As he advanced towards her, she stumbled backwards and fumbled, "My, you…ah, um, look like, a, um, err…an impressionist painting!"
"You! Didn't I warn you never to come down here again? You came to gawk at me? What were you thinking?" he demanded.
"You have very lovely eyes, " Yulia said dumbly.
He grabbed her wrist. "You little bitch! You think you can meddle in the affairs of the Opera ghost?"
"Let me go," Yulia pleaded quietly.
"Why? So you can run away and tell the ballet rats what you've seen? So you can tell the managers where the monster lives? Why do you want to run, Yulia Alexandrovna? You were never afraid of me, before!" He laughed. "Of course you weren't. What did you take me for? A recluse? Some eccentric Bohemian? Oh, but now you know better, don't you? Stop struggling, girl! What do you think I'm going to do to you?"
"It doesn't matter…if you wanted to kill me, I couldn't stop you; if you wanted to do anything else, I wouldn't try to stop you."
He forcibly threw her to the ground. "You stupid little whore! If you think I would ever…"
"Stop being so damn self-righteous!" Yulia snapped.
"What?"
"You heard me! If you want to live in this prison, fine! All you care about your pain, your self-pity!"
"And just what do you know about my pain, Yulia Alexandrovna? Do you have any idea what it's like to live like this, scorned and hated by everyone?" he demanded.
"Your pain is what keeps you alive! You lived for Daaé, and now you live for your own misery, because you can't have what you want. You're like a spoiled child! You're pathetic."
He raised his hand to slap her, but turned away instead. "Go."
Yulia bit her lip. "You can't keep living like this," she said gently. "If you wanted, you could stay at my flat for a time, to get away from the insanity of the Opera…"
"Go away, Yulia Alexandrovna. Just go."
She moved to touch his shoulder, but withdrew for fear of another out lash. Instead, she offered a smaller gesture of understanding. "You may be more familiar, M. Erik. I—please, don't do anything rash, especially concerning Daaé."
"Go away."
Yulia sighed and went to the boat.
When Yulia climbed out of the mirror, a voice asked, "How long have known about him?"
"Daaé? Oh, um…"
Christine handed Yulia her masquerade mask. "And how long have you been coming into my dressing room like this?"
"Well, you see…"
"I'm not angry, Yulia, but I was so worried about you. He's a mad demon, Yulia! He'll kill you; he'll kill all of us!"
Yulia sighed. "He won't kill you, and I don't care if he kills me."
"Don't talk like that!"
Yulia laughed bitterly. "You're so lucky, Daaé, and you don't realize it. Would you rather be safe or happy?"
"I don't understand."
"Of course you don't; I don't think I quite do, either. You have two very powerful who think they're in love with you. But, the truth is, I don't think anyone of you really are in love…but what am I rambling on about? I've never been in love, so who am I to talk? Nonsense! All of it! Love makes fools and murderers of the best of us!"
"Yulia, are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"No, no…not at all. In fact, I must write a letter of apology when I get home!"
"Yulia, he's a monster!"
Yulia sighed. "You're not afraid of him; you're afraid of what he represents to you."
"Yulia, I think you're ill. Please, go home and rest."
"Yes, I must be mad. I've been courting disaster all along!" She grinned slightly. "It would have been a lovely day to die, too, dressed as I am."
"Come on, Yulia. I'll walk you home."
Yulia met her eyes. "You're a good person, Daaé, but you can't make everyone happy."
"Please, Yulia, let's go."
Yulia, feeling uncharacteristically guilty, rushed to Christine's dressing room and was relieved the girl had forgotten, again, to lock it. Dropping off her masquerade mask in the room, she triggered the mirror mechanism and rushed through the dark passageways down to the concealed lake. There, she found a boat moored on the lake, and it dawned on her that the ghost had to have more than one way into his domain.
She looked at the black water grimly. She knew what one was supposed to do while swimming, but she had never tried it, and if she fell in, her heavy costume would surely weigh her down anyway.
Mustering her courage, she pushed the boat into the water, grabbed the pole, and gingerly stepped in, nearly screaming as it rocked beneath her. After taking several minutes to assure her balance, she slowly poled her way across the forbidding water.
After safely docking, she silently approached the structure that stood before her. As she ventured inside, she saw pieces of the Red Death costume strewn about. As she continued to creep through the abode, she finally found Erik with his back to her, sitting huddled on the floor in the middle of various musical scores. He wore only a shirt and pants, instead of his usual formal attire. When Yulia noticed his shoulders shaking, she wasn't sure whether to feel pity or disgust; he, a man, was crying, after making such a dreadful spectacle at the masked ball? Then she remembered the score he had thrown to the manager, and her original conflicting emotions from the first time she had heard his Don Juan played resurfaced, this time manifesting as anger rather than hysterical sobbing.
"You idiot! What did you think you were doing? I told you that music is dangerous! You can't expect them to—"
He whirled about and faced her; Yulia inhaled sharply at seeing his unmasked face.
As he advanced towards her, she stumbled backwards and fumbled, "My, you…ah, um, look like, a, um, err…an impressionist painting!"
"You! Didn't I warn you never to come down here again? You came to gawk at me? What were you thinking?" he demanded.
"You have very lovely eyes, " Yulia said dumbly.
He grabbed her wrist. "You little bitch! You think you can meddle in the affairs of the Opera ghost?"
"Let me go," Yulia pleaded quietly.
"Why? So you can run away and tell the ballet rats what you've seen? So you can tell the managers where the monster lives? Why do you want to run, Yulia Alexandrovna? You were never afraid of me, before!" He laughed. "Of course you weren't. What did you take me for? A recluse? Some eccentric Bohemian? Oh, but now you know better, don't you? Stop struggling, girl! What do you think I'm going to do to you?"
"It doesn't matter…if you wanted to kill me, I couldn't stop you; if you wanted to do anything else, I wouldn't try to stop you."
He forcibly threw her to the ground. "You stupid little whore! If you think I would ever…"
"Stop being so damn self-righteous!" Yulia snapped.
"What?"
"You heard me! If you want to live in this prison, fine! All you care about your pain, your self-pity!"
"And just what do you know about my pain, Yulia Alexandrovna? Do you have any idea what it's like to live like this, scorned and hated by everyone?" he demanded.
"Your pain is what keeps you alive! You lived for Daaé, and now you live for your own misery, because you can't have what you want. You're like a spoiled child! You're pathetic."
He raised his hand to slap her, but turned away instead. "Go."
Yulia bit her lip. "You can't keep living like this," she said gently. "If you wanted, you could stay at my flat for a time, to get away from the insanity of the Opera…"
"Go away, Yulia Alexandrovna. Just go."
She moved to touch his shoulder, but withdrew for fear of another out lash. Instead, she offered a smaller gesture of understanding. "You may be more familiar, M. Erik. I—please, don't do anything rash, especially concerning Daaé."
"Go away."
Yulia sighed and went to the boat.
When Yulia climbed out of the mirror, a voice asked, "How long have known about him?"
"Daaé? Oh, um…"
Christine handed Yulia her masquerade mask. "And how long have you been coming into my dressing room like this?"
"Well, you see…"
"I'm not angry, Yulia, but I was so worried about you. He's a mad demon, Yulia! He'll kill you; he'll kill all of us!"
Yulia sighed. "He won't kill you, and I don't care if he kills me."
"Don't talk like that!"
Yulia laughed bitterly. "You're so lucky, Daaé, and you don't realize it. Would you rather be safe or happy?"
"I don't understand."
"Of course you don't; I don't think I quite do, either. You have two very powerful who think they're in love with you. But, the truth is, I don't think anyone of you really are in love…but what am I rambling on about? I've never been in love, so who am I to talk? Nonsense! All of it! Love makes fools and murderers of the best of us!"
"Yulia, are you alright? Did he hurt you?"
"No, no…not at all. In fact, I must write a letter of apology when I get home!"
"Yulia, he's a monster!"
Yulia sighed. "You're not afraid of him; you're afraid of what he represents to you."
"Yulia, I think you're ill. Please, go home and rest."
"Yes, I must be mad. I've been courting disaster all along!" She grinned slightly. "It would have been a lovely day to die, too, dressed as I am."
"Come on, Yulia. I'll walk you home."
Yulia met her eyes. "You're a good person, Daaé, but you can't make everyone happy."
"Please, Yulia, let's go."