Chapter 17
"Thank you both for having me over; you really shouldn't go through this trouble…" Yulia said appropriately.
"It's no trouble at all; your presence has been missed at the Opera," Mme. Giry said with polite formality.
"Not much, though, probably. Tell me, what is the company working on now?"
"Faust," the older woman answered.
"Ah. How…fitting."
"Yulia's planning on leaving us for good, Mother. She wants to go to America," Meg muttered.
"You have family there?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I trust your dinner is suitable?" Mme. Giry asked.
"Oh, yes, Madame! I've been eating soup since the Don Juan rehearsals started!"
Yulia and Mme. Giry continued their stiff conversation throughout the meal while Meg sulked. When her mother went about cleaning up the table, Meg dragged Yulia into a small sitting room.
"Yulia, it's been four days! Have you decided, yet?"
"I received my money and ticket in the post, today," Yulia said nonchalantly.
"And?" Meg demanded.
"I need to speak to Daaé. In any case, I wanted to show Erik the text I've been writing…something to assume himself with."
"Yulia, please…for Christine's sake…"
"You may come with me, of course. After all, she's your friend."
"I thought she was yours, as well."
"Misperceptions abound in France, don't they?"
Yulia, totting a rather awkward bad, waited impatiently for Meg's practice to end. When the dancer finally appeared, Yulia pulled her in the direction of Christine's dressing room.
"Where are we going?"
"To M. Erik's house."
"How? There's another way…"
"Considering that nearly the entire company went that way, he's probably blocked it up by now. Besides, this is the only way I know."
Again, Christine's dressing was still unlocked, even though no one was using it. Meg watched in amazement as Yulia triggered the mirror.
Getting across the lake was another matter. They found a broken down skiff wedged between several large rocks, and Yulia prayed silently as Meg daringly paddled their way across.
Once inside the home, Meg began to tremble slightly. "It looks like it's been tidied up a bit…perhaps they left…"
"No, he's probably lurking behind us somewhere. M. Erik! It's Meg and Yulia! Meg said you'd allow us to visit Daaé!"
"Visitors again? I'm becoming quite the socialite," a sarcastic voice drawled.
Meg's eyes darted around the room, but Yulia said calmly, "Stop this nonsense. I have something for you."
Instead of the opera ghost, Christine walked out of what appeared to be a wall. "Good day to both of you. What brings you here?"
"Little Giry wants me to discuss something with your privately. I also have something I'd like to show your husband."
Christine and Meg flinched. "Follow me; when we're done speaking in my room, I'm sure Erik will speak with you, Yulia."
They followed Christine into her hidden bedroom.
"The ticket, Yulia? Do you have the ticket?" Christine asked frantically.
"Yes, I have it."
There was a long pause.
"Well, give it to her, then!" Meg demanded.
"No."
"But, Yulia, why?" Christine asked.
"You're not running out him again, especially as his wife! It would be cruel. I'll give you the ticket and the money only if you tell him you're leaving. Don't look at me like that! You must take responsibility for what you've done!"
"He'll never let me leave," Christine stated.
"Does he love you? He let you leave before."
"I can't ask that…you've never seen him angry! It's terrifying!"
"I won't let you just slip out. Tell him the truth."
"I can't!" Christine cried.
"Yulia, consider the position she's in…" Meg started.
"I have. I've also considered the position M. Erik is in, as well as my own. Christine, I'm telling to you ask permission; I merely want you to explain your intent."
"You don't understand!"
"Stop being so childish!"
Christine glared at her. "I wouldn't be in this position if not for you!"
"What do you mean?"
The girl turned away from them. "I saw Raoul kissing you!"
"What?" Meg squeaked.
Yulia commented with slight amusement, "So, that's why you ran back down here, even though you hate him? You wouldn't just confront your fiancé? Christine, I kissed him; it wasn't his choice."
"I don't hate him…"
"But, you must hate me for what I've done to you. That's acceptable, I suppose, since I don't regret it."
"I don't hate you; I pity you."
"You pity a great many people, Daaé."
"Please, Mlle. Kazakova, the ticket!"
"You'll tell him, first?" Yulia asked.
Christine nodded. When she opened the door, the phantom was revealed, calmly waiting for them.
"You enjoyed your visit, Christine?" he asked gently.
White as a sheet, she nodded, trembling slightly.
"Daaé has a question for you, M. Erik, "Yulia said coolly.
"It's more a request…" Christine mumbled.
"What is it? Anything I can do for you…"
Christine met his eyes, seeing the pure adoration they held for her. She opened her mouth to speak, withdrew, then bowed her head and asked submissively, "May I go visit Yulia and Meg tomorrow, at Yulia's flat? It is quite troublesome for them to venture down here, not to mention if they were to be caught…"
Yulia eyes the former chorus girl suspiciously, then turned her attentions to her husband. "M. Erik, I've attempted to write an opera. I'll be leaving Paris soon, and I certainly don't have the knowledge to write the music for it. So, I was wondering, if only to assume yourself…"
"Let me see it," he said crisply.
Yulia reached in her bag and produced the large stack of hand-written papers.
He paged through it swiftly. "In Russian, Mademoiselle?" he commented at last.
"Yes, sir."
"Your lyrics are…inventive."
"Thank you," Yulia said, not sure if it was a compliment.
"My dear, your friends must be tired; it is quite late." She made no response. "Christine, say goodbye to Meg and Yulia Alexandrovna."
"Oh. Goodbye."
Meg looked at Christine with empathy and concern. Yulia, on the other hand, walked over near Erik.
"I'll be leaving to live with my cousin, soon. I doubt I'll be able to come down here again. You may do with the script as you wish. I suppose I'll be seeing Daaé tomorrow, but, as for you, Monsieur le Fantome…"
She reached up and kissed him gently, but he quickly pushed her away.
"Yulia Alexandrovna!"
The young woman laughed. "You have my sympathies, M. Erik, for so many things…da svidanya. Come along, Meg."
Meg, though thoroughly mortified, followed Yulia out of the labyrinth with out question, this time taking the ghost's boat as opposed to the dingy skiff.
As they each headed home, Meg asked, "You're going to give her the ticket tomorrow, aren't you?"
"No."
"But, Yulia…!"
"I'm going to America, and Daaé is staying here with Erik! She made her choice! She's living with a passionate genius…"
"She's the wife of a murderer! Yulia, you can't just abandon her like that!"
"Would you like me to inform Raoul?"
"No! He'll just rush in there, and…"
"It's Christine's life. She had an opportunity to leave, and she didn't take it."
"Then…what will you do tomorrow? She's coming over."
"I'll serve her refreshments like a proper hostess."
"You are the most under-handed, cold-hearted, deceitful woman…"
"We all have our reasons for acting the way we do."
"You're impossible!"
"No. I'm just a fatalist."
Yulia lay awake in bed, mulling over the recent events. With her original scheme in shambles, she pondered whether or not to attempt to continue playing the game.
If she gave Daaé her ticket, she would never have to worry about her again. Raoul would never know, and Erik would be alone. She sighed. She wasn't in love with him, she knew; if she was, she would never send Christine away. Still, wasn't Christine lying to him just as bad? In any case, at best he tolerated her. He hadn't kissed her back; he had simply pushed her away.
It was all pointless. She was going to America; no pity for either Christine or Erik would stop that.
"Thank you both for having me over; you really shouldn't go through this trouble…" Yulia said appropriately.
"It's no trouble at all; your presence has been missed at the Opera," Mme. Giry said with polite formality.
"Not much, though, probably. Tell me, what is the company working on now?"
"Faust," the older woman answered.
"Ah. How…fitting."
"Yulia's planning on leaving us for good, Mother. She wants to go to America," Meg muttered.
"You have family there?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I trust your dinner is suitable?" Mme. Giry asked.
"Oh, yes, Madame! I've been eating soup since the Don Juan rehearsals started!"
Yulia and Mme. Giry continued their stiff conversation throughout the meal while Meg sulked. When her mother went about cleaning up the table, Meg dragged Yulia into a small sitting room.
"Yulia, it's been four days! Have you decided, yet?"
"I received my money and ticket in the post, today," Yulia said nonchalantly.
"And?" Meg demanded.
"I need to speak to Daaé. In any case, I wanted to show Erik the text I've been writing…something to assume himself with."
"Yulia, please…for Christine's sake…"
"You may come with me, of course. After all, she's your friend."
"I thought she was yours, as well."
"Misperceptions abound in France, don't they?"
Yulia, totting a rather awkward bad, waited impatiently for Meg's practice to end. When the dancer finally appeared, Yulia pulled her in the direction of Christine's dressing room.
"Where are we going?"
"To M. Erik's house."
"How? There's another way…"
"Considering that nearly the entire company went that way, he's probably blocked it up by now. Besides, this is the only way I know."
Again, Christine's dressing was still unlocked, even though no one was using it. Meg watched in amazement as Yulia triggered the mirror.
Getting across the lake was another matter. They found a broken down skiff wedged between several large rocks, and Yulia prayed silently as Meg daringly paddled their way across.
Once inside the home, Meg began to tremble slightly. "It looks like it's been tidied up a bit…perhaps they left…"
"No, he's probably lurking behind us somewhere. M. Erik! It's Meg and Yulia! Meg said you'd allow us to visit Daaé!"
"Visitors again? I'm becoming quite the socialite," a sarcastic voice drawled.
Meg's eyes darted around the room, but Yulia said calmly, "Stop this nonsense. I have something for you."
Instead of the opera ghost, Christine walked out of what appeared to be a wall. "Good day to both of you. What brings you here?"
"Little Giry wants me to discuss something with your privately. I also have something I'd like to show your husband."
Christine and Meg flinched. "Follow me; when we're done speaking in my room, I'm sure Erik will speak with you, Yulia."
They followed Christine into her hidden bedroom.
"The ticket, Yulia? Do you have the ticket?" Christine asked frantically.
"Yes, I have it."
There was a long pause.
"Well, give it to her, then!" Meg demanded.
"No."
"But, Yulia, why?" Christine asked.
"You're not running out him again, especially as his wife! It would be cruel. I'll give you the ticket and the money only if you tell him you're leaving. Don't look at me like that! You must take responsibility for what you've done!"
"He'll never let me leave," Christine stated.
"Does he love you? He let you leave before."
"I can't ask that…you've never seen him angry! It's terrifying!"
"I won't let you just slip out. Tell him the truth."
"I can't!" Christine cried.
"Yulia, consider the position she's in…" Meg started.
"I have. I've also considered the position M. Erik is in, as well as my own. Christine, I'm telling to you ask permission; I merely want you to explain your intent."
"You don't understand!"
"Stop being so childish!"
Christine glared at her. "I wouldn't be in this position if not for you!"
"What do you mean?"
The girl turned away from them. "I saw Raoul kissing you!"
"What?" Meg squeaked.
Yulia commented with slight amusement, "So, that's why you ran back down here, even though you hate him? You wouldn't just confront your fiancé? Christine, I kissed him; it wasn't his choice."
"I don't hate him…"
"But, you must hate me for what I've done to you. That's acceptable, I suppose, since I don't regret it."
"I don't hate you; I pity you."
"You pity a great many people, Daaé."
"Please, Mlle. Kazakova, the ticket!"
"You'll tell him, first?" Yulia asked.
Christine nodded. When she opened the door, the phantom was revealed, calmly waiting for them.
"You enjoyed your visit, Christine?" he asked gently.
White as a sheet, she nodded, trembling slightly.
"Daaé has a question for you, M. Erik, "Yulia said coolly.
"It's more a request…" Christine mumbled.
"What is it? Anything I can do for you…"
Christine met his eyes, seeing the pure adoration they held for her. She opened her mouth to speak, withdrew, then bowed her head and asked submissively, "May I go visit Yulia and Meg tomorrow, at Yulia's flat? It is quite troublesome for them to venture down here, not to mention if they were to be caught…"
Yulia eyes the former chorus girl suspiciously, then turned her attentions to her husband. "M. Erik, I've attempted to write an opera. I'll be leaving Paris soon, and I certainly don't have the knowledge to write the music for it. So, I was wondering, if only to assume yourself…"
"Let me see it," he said crisply.
Yulia reached in her bag and produced the large stack of hand-written papers.
He paged through it swiftly. "In Russian, Mademoiselle?" he commented at last.
"Yes, sir."
"Your lyrics are…inventive."
"Thank you," Yulia said, not sure if it was a compliment.
"My dear, your friends must be tired; it is quite late." She made no response. "Christine, say goodbye to Meg and Yulia Alexandrovna."
"Oh. Goodbye."
Meg looked at Christine with empathy and concern. Yulia, on the other hand, walked over near Erik.
"I'll be leaving to live with my cousin, soon. I doubt I'll be able to come down here again. You may do with the script as you wish. I suppose I'll be seeing Daaé tomorrow, but, as for you, Monsieur le Fantome…"
She reached up and kissed him gently, but he quickly pushed her away.
"Yulia Alexandrovna!"
The young woman laughed. "You have my sympathies, M. Erik, for so many things…da svidanya. Come along, Meg."
Meg, though thoroughly mortified, followed Yulia out of the labyrinth with out question, this time taking the ghost's boat as opposed to the dingy skiff.
As they each headed home, Meg asked, "You're going to give her the ticket tomorrow, aren't you?"
"No."
"But, Yulia…!"
"I'm going to America, and Daaé is staying here with Erik! She made her choice! She's living with a passionate genius…"
"She's the wife of a murderer! Yulia, you can't just abandon her like that!"
"Would you like me to inform Raoul?"
"No! He'll just rush in there, and…"
"It's Christine's life. She had an opportunity to leave, and she didn't take it."
"Then…what will you do tomorrow? She's coming over."
"I'll serve her refreshments like a proper hostess."
"You are the most under-handed, cold-hearted, deceitful woman…"
"We all have our reasons for acting the way we do."
"You're impossible!"
"No. I'm just a fatalist."
Yulia lay awake in bed, mulling over the recent events. With her original scheme in shambles, she pondered whether or not to attempt to continue playing the game.
If she gave Daaé her ticket, she would never have to worry about her again. Raoul would never know, and Erik would be alone. She sighed. She wasn't in love with him, she knew; if she was, she would never send Christine away. Still, wasn't Christine lying to him just as bad? In any case, at best he tolerated her. He hadn't kissed her back; he had simply pushed her away.
It was all pointless. She was going to America; no pity for either Christine or Erik would stop that.