Disclaimer : I don't own any of the characters. They belong to Gaston
Leroux. Alain Choletti and Gerard Carriere belong to Misters Yeston and
Kopit.
*Warning* Raoul bashing.
Christine's point of view
I kept staring at the dress like some dull-witted child, incapable of understanding the situation I was in. He actually meant to take me back above, I thought. He would either follow me like my shadow, or give me the opportunity to run away, but somehow I did not think I would try to flee again. I felt strangely tired and found it difficult to breathe, as though something was constricting my chest. At first I thought my corset must be too tight, but I waved that theory aside. It was sadness that was crushing me, sadness and regret. The sound of the piano interrupted my musings. Erik was playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, a piece that fitted him exceptionally well. I abandoned the couch to get closer to his music, leaning on the door to his chamber. There was something so passionate, so natural in his playing that it seemed he was born to be a musician and nothing else. Oh Erik, I am so sorry for what happened, you did not deserve to be betrayed in such a fashion. I repaid your generosity with greed, and yet you forgave me. I sank to the floor, letting the music float through me. My head resting against the door frame, tears forming at the corners of my eyes, I caressed the carved oak with a trembling hand. The music stopped after a while, but I failed to notice the approaching footsteps and the opening door until I saw two feet stopping next to me. I looked up and found myself staring into Erik's questioning eyes. My cheeks flared with embarrassment and I hastily averted my gaze. How silly I must have looked, sitting at his door like some eavesdropping child! He knelt down and his hand gently cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his eye. " Why don't you come in my dear? You will only catch a cold on the floor. There is an armchair in the room that is quite comfortable, unless you would rather stay where you are…" He stated matter-of-factly. My face went even redder and I turned away from him. Why did he have to tease me like that? "How did you know I was there?" I asked. He had the most unnerving ability of knowing everything that went on in his house. He simply smiled and invited me in, indicating I should sit on the armchair in the corner. I complied, not feeling like arguing with him. The whole situation amused him, the scoundrel. I could tell from the little smile hovering on his lips. I fought down an urge to snap some stinging remark, knowing it would only hurt his feelings, and it would be childish on my part to do so. I contented myself by saying : "One could think you are not as dedicated to your art as you ought to be, Erik. You just allowed yourself to be distracted by an admirer". He mock-glared at me from his seat at the piano, a genuine smile on his lips. "Perhaps it is not an admirer that caught my attention, but a neglected pupil. Shall we resume our lessons?" he said, looking through music scores. I went to stand beside the piano, glad of this turn of event. Music was the balm to all the sores between us. It would help us forget the bitter moments we had shared these past two days. He selected "Céleste Aïda " and started to play. I eagerly lost myself to the music, it's beauty soothing my troubled spirit.
Erik's point of view
I left Christine alone in the drawing room and went to my own chamber. I put my costume away in a corner, carefully hiding it from view. Christine had entered this room without warning before, and I didn't want her to see it right away. In fact, she wouldn't know who was dressed in the long flowing crimson cloak until she danced with him. Her dear vicomte might just be able to guess, if he was not too busy with all his conquests. How Christine could even give him a second thought astonished me. Half the women in the chorus and corps de ballet had a likeness of him in a sliver pendant, and he had the nerve to proclaim he loved her! A remarkable privilege, being loved by the flighty vicomte de Chagny. Such a privilege in fact, that she had the obligation to love him as well. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I had seen the little scene he had made when she refused to go out with him one night. Arrogant, spoiled, ignorant aristocrat that he was. I hated him! I realized suddenly that I had begun pacing up and down my room, raving like a lunatic. I seated myself at the piano, and gazed at the scores laying upon it. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, what a delightful coincidence. My fingers caressed the keys effortlessly, letting the music dance around me. Beethoven, he had been a true genius, writing a whole symphony while incapable of hearing a single sound. Some of the greatest composers had had an awful childhood and a glamorous life. Perhaps I was destined to be the greatest of them all, my whole life being an endless torment. Something made me come back to the present, something near the door. There was no light coming from the other room, and yet I had left many lighted candles there. I strained my ears over the music and distinctly heard a sigh. Christine, I thought. She didn't even dare to walk into my room now, I must have scared her more badly than I had thought then. I made my way to the door and opened it. Christine was indeed behind the door, she was sitting on the floor in front of it in fact. The thought that she might have fallen down had she been leaning any more on the door when I opened made the corners of my mouth twitch. The only woman ever to fall at my feet. She looked up at me, embarrassment written all over her face. Suppressing a laugh, I said : "Why don't you come in my dear? You will only catch a cold on the floor. There is an armchair in the room that is quite comfortable, unless you would rather stay where you are..." Her face burned red, and she turned away. I knelt down next to her and tilted her face up. Her eyes flashed with indignation, but I found I was rather enjoying it. Such a display of character was not a common occurrence in her. "How did you know I was there?" she asked in an annoyed tone. I did not answer her, the urge to laugh almost ungovernable. What a feisty little creature she could be when teased. I invited her in and indicated the armchair in the corner. She sat down in a huff, her face still flushed with anger and embarrassment, perhaps even a little resentment. I noted that her limp was barely noticeable, it would be entirely gone for the ball. She broke in on my thoughts by remarking :"One could think you are not as dedicated to your art as you ought to be, Erik. You just allowed yourself to be distracted by an admirer". Oho, that was below the belt, Christine, I thought in amusement. Parroting my very own words to tell me off. I glared at her, but the smile plastered on my lips belied my true feelings, she could see that I was not serious. She had just said she admired me, maybe she didn't grasp the hidden meaning of her choice of words, but it did not escape me. " Perhaps it is not an admirer that caught my attention, but a neglected pupil. Shall we resume our lessons?" I said, willing to direct the subject to something less childish, although it would have been entertaining to continue with our little war. I searched through my music sheets, looking for a nice piece to work on. Anything but "Faust", now was not the time to work on that particular opera, not after that disaster on her premiere *. My choice finally settled on "Céleste Aïda", one of Verdi's finest works. Christine was already at my side, waiting for us to begin. We both needed to occupy our minds with something more constructive than dwelling on past disappointments and sorrows.
Gerard Carriere's point of view (he finally has something to say!)
I went back to Erik's house several times after leaving. I was deeply uneasy as to what he would do with the girl. I should have taken her away by force, she did not know what kind of a man she was dealing with. When I saw him carrying her, unconscious, to his house and wearing his black mask, I feared the worst, but I did not dare to ask him what had happened. I followed in silence, fearful of attracting his attention. My worst fears seemed to have been in vain, as I caught glimpses of Christine and Erik together from the other side of the lake *. Today, singing could be heard from the house. They made a fine duet, those two. With a sigh, I turned and left, hoping Erik would come to his senses and let the girl go.
Two days later… (Erik and Christine went back to their music lessons, Raoul to his usual flirting, and Carriere to his meddling in other people's business)
Christine's point of view
Two days passed peacefully enough, either in musical bliss or in everyday activities. Erik would not let me see his outfit for the ball, and I found he was unusually excited. I hoped he had not come up with another sordid plan to get back at Carlotta. He had explained to me how I had come to lose my voice during the premiere, what he had done to punish Carlotta's crime (he laughed so much while he told me this that he had tears in his eyes) and scolded me for accepting a drink from a rival. His scolding was not really serious, but I knew that if I made that mistake again, Carlotta wouldn't be the only one to be punished. "Well, my dear, tonight is the is the night of the ball. I hope your ankle is better, I expect you will dance a great deal tonight…" He said then paused "If I might be so bold as to ask for the first two dances…" he finished shyly. The look in his eyes could have made me cry. He looked as though he was sure I would refuse, and was preparing to accept it with a display of indifference. I agreed to his request fervently, trying to bring back his cheerful mood. His eyes misted over, and he dropped to his knees, almost stuttering with delight. If anyone saw him, they would think I had just agreed to marry him! The ball only started at 20:00, so we had the best part of the afternoon to ourselves. We tried a few songs together, but Erik was too ecstatic to focus on his playing. He kept pacing the drawing room, incapable of remaining still for more than a minute. If he sat down, he got up a second later and resumed walking up and down. I smiled at him indulgently, such childlike eagerness was totally out of character for him. "Erik, if you don't stop going around in circles I will be quite dizzy in a minute". I said as I placed my hand on his arm. He stopped pacing and looked at me, his eyes shining with a light of their own. "You are right, of course. Perhaps you would care for a stroll through the woods?" he asked, but then a flash of pain darkened his eyes. We had not talked about the incident of the picnic since it had happened, as we were still both uneasy over it. I linked his arm with mine, and pulled him towards the front door. "A stroll around the lake would be fine" I said, hoping it would appease him. It seemed to work, for he smiled and led me to the shore. All signs of the destruction that had taken place two days ago were gone but for a few scratches on the statues that adorned the walls. We walked for a few hours, enjoying the cool air and the soft light. I leaned my head on Erik's shoulder as we walked, and he stopped abruptly. He was staring ahead at something I could not discern. I thought I saw a flash of white, but I couldn't be sure for Erik had turned around brusquely and was leading me away.
Erik's point of view
Time flew past during those two days at a dizzying speed. Had it been in my power to slow the passing of time, I would have done so gladly. Our music sessions were usually followed by my reading a book to her, or her telling me of her childhood. She tactfully avoided mentioning the vicomte in those stories, even though her years with him were probably the happiest ones she had lived. I strained to teach her to play chess, but she showed little interest in the game. I confess that what I really enjoyed was the frustrated confusion that would boil into indignation and even daring at my teasing. She had somehow found out I was ticklish, and shamelessly used that knowledge to have the last word in our conversations. She had asked to see my costume for the masquerade many times, out of genuine curiosity or just to humor me I did not know, but it didn't really matter to me. What mattered was the nagging little voice in my head urging me to formally ask for the first dance. I felt like a school boy, too shy to ask and yet unable to remain silent. The subject of the ball inevitably came up : "Well, my dear, tonight is the is the night of the ball. I hope your ankle is better, I expect you will dance a great deal tonight…" I paused, taking a deep breath for courage : " If I might be so bold as to ask for the first two dances…" I stammered, hoping I hadn't stuttered as much as I thought I had. The first two dances? Where had THAT come from? I looked at her expectantly, not knowing what to expect. She gazed at me, her eyes softened and she smiled, saying she would gladly dance with me. I fell to my knees, overcome with happiness and grinning like a perfect fool. I remember I said many things, but I couldn't remember what, nonsense, most likely. I positively felt a surge of joy washing over me like hot water, and I felt giddy and light-headed with this new, intoxicating sensation. There was a lot of time to spare before we had to make ourselves ready for the ball, but I could not focus on anything. I tried going back to music, but even Christine's angelic voice could not pacify me. I had to move, to do something. I paced around, trying to think of something to do, but no idea came. The thought of going early came to me, but it would spoil my surprise. I heard Christine's voice calling my name, and felt her hand resting on my arm. "Erik, if you don't stop going around in circles I will be quite dizzy in a minute". My face grew hot beneath the mask, how rude of me to ignore her like that. "You are right, of course. Perhaps you would care for a stroll through the woods?" That was the first thought that came to mind, but I felt like biting my tongue the minute I voiced it. The woods were the last place I wanted to see right now, and I was sure she felt the same. "A stroll around the lake would be fine" she suggested and linked her arm around mine, our shoulders almost touching. Glad to be spared further embarrassment, I led her outside and we strolled quietly around the lake. A wonderful moment, that would end only to let an even more wonderful one begin. The masked ball, there was one each year, that was a tradition, but I had not thought Choletti would still hold it. He had not respected most of the traditions of the opera, especially the ones where I was concerned. I caught a glimpse of something white out of the corner of my eye just as I felt Christine rest her head on my shoulder. I stared at the white spot, and saw Gerard hurrying away. So, you spy on me yet again, Gerard, I thought angrily. I turned around and led Christine back to the house. How dare he intrude on me like that! At least he must have been satisfied with seeing Christine alive and well, and being so close to me… I shook my head and glanced at the clock. 18:00, late enough to start and get ready for the ball. I turned to Christine, who looked at me with confusion in her eyes. She must have been wondering about my sudden change of attitude. "Oh dear, look at the time. I will take you back to your dressing room, so you can prepare for the masked ball. Go fetch your costume, I shall get the boat". I said and went to the lake once again. She hurried after me, and in too short a time for my liking she was back in her dressing room. "I will see you at the ball then my dear." I whispered before going back to get myself ready. I had a surprise for some of the guests…
Author's note : Pfew! Longest chapter so far. I hope you appreciate my attempts at humor. Please tell me if they are funny or hopelessly boring. Ah well, the ball will be in the next chapter, promised! Much more Raoul bashing to come in later chapters.
Many thanks to all those who have reviewed my fic. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
* In the movie, Christine's premiere is a disaster. Carlotta gives her something to make her lose her voice just before she goes on stage. That is prelude to the fall of the chandelier.
* The house on the lake is not hidden from view. Christine's room has windows that give on the lake. That is how Carriere manages to see what goes on inside the house. That does not make it any easier to reach the house though, just watch the movie and you'll understand my meaning.
* In that version, there is no Raoul vicomte de Chagny, there is only the count Philippe. I think it is enough to hate Raoul, no need to hate his brother as well.
To answer Raydias' question : In Leroux's version, Erik goes as the Red Death to the masked ball. All the interpretations with the masked ball feature Erik as Red Death. I don't know why, but I think it's cool. I know that the Red Death is a character of Edgar Allen Poe, but I don't know in which story it appears. The key to the mystery lies there!
*Warning* Raoul bashing.
Christine's point of view
I kept staring at the dress like some dull-witted child, incapable of understanding the situation I was in. He actually meant to take me back above, I thought. He would either follow me like my shadow, or give me the opportunity to run away, but somehow I did not think I would try to flee again. I felt strangely tired and found it difficult to breathe, as though something was constricting my chest. At first I thought my corset must be too tight, but I waved that theory aside. It was sadness that was crushing me, sadness and regret. The sound of the piano interrupted my musings. Erik was playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, a piece that fitted him exceptionally well. I abandoned the couch to get closer to his music, leaning on the door to his chamber. There was something so passionate, so natural in his playing that it seemed he was born to be a musician and nothing else. Oh Erik, I am so sorry for what happened, you did not deserve to be betrayed in such a fashion. I repaid your generosity with greed, and yet you forgave me. I sank to the floor, letting the music float through me. My head resting against the door frame, tears forming at the corners of my eyes, I caressed the carved oak with a trembling hand. The music stopped after a while, but I failed to notice the approaching footsteps and the opening door until I saw two feet stopping next to me. I looked up and found myself staring into Erik's questioning eyes. My cheeks flared with embarrassment and I hastily averted my gaze. How silly I must have looked, sitting at his door like some eavesdropping child! He knelt down and his hand gently cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his eye. " Why don't you come in my dear? You will only catch a cold on the floor. There is an armchair in the room that is quite comfortable, unless you would rather stay where you are…" He stated matter-of-factly. My face went even redder and I turned away from him. Why did he have to tease me like that? "How did you know I was there?" I asked. He had the most unnerving ability of knowing everything that went on in his house. He simply smiled and invited me in, indicating I should sit on the armchair in the corner. I complied, not feeling like arguing with him. The whole situation amused him, the scoundrel. I could tell from the little smile hovering on his lips. I fought down an urge to snap some stinging remark, knowing it would only hurt his feelings, and it would be childish on my part to do so. I contented myself by saying : "One could think you are not as dedicated to your art as you ought to be, Erik. You just allowed yourself to be distracted by an admirer". He mock-glared at me from his seat at the piano, a genuine smile on his lips. "Perhaps it is not an admirer that caught my attention, but a neglected pupil. Shall we resume our lessons?" he said, looking through music scores. I went to stand beside the piano, glad of this turn of event. Music was the balm to all the sores between us. It would help us forget the bitter moments we had shared these past two days. He selected "Céleste Aïda " and started to play. I eagerly lost myself to the music, it's beauty soothing my troubled spirit.
Erik's point of view
I left Christine alone in the drawing room and went to my own chamber. I put my costume away in a corner, carefully hiding it from view. Christine had entered this room without warning before, and I didn't want her to see it right away. In fact, she wouldn't know who was dressed in the long flowing crimson cloak until she danced with him. Her dear vicomte might just be able to guess, if he was not too busy with all his conquests. How Christine could even give him a second thought astonished me. Half the women in the chorus and corps de ballet had a likeness of him in a sliver pendant, and he had the nerve to proclaim he loved her! A remarkable privilege, being loved by the flighty vicomte de Chagny. Such a privilege in fact, that she had the obligation to love him as well. He wouldn't take no for an answer. I had seen the little scene he had made when she refused to go out with him one night. Arrogant, spoiled, ignorant aristocrat that he was. I hated him! I realized suddenly that I had begun pacing up and down my room, raving like a lunatic. I seated myself at the piano, and gazed at the scores laying upon it. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, what a delightful coincidence. My fingers caressed the keys effortlessly, letting the music dance around me. Beethoven, he had been a true genius, writing a whole symphony while incapable of hearing a single sound. Some of the greatest composers had had an awful childhood and a glamorous life. Perhaps I was destined to be the greatest of them all, my whole life being an endless torment. Something made me come back to the present, something near the door. There was no light coming from the other room, and yet I had left many lighted candles there. I strained my ears over the music and distinctly heard a sigh. Christine, I thought. She didn't even dare to walk into my room now, I must have scared her more badly than I had thought then. I made my way to the door and opened it. Christine was indeed behind the door, she was sitting on the floor in front of it in fact. The thought that she might have fallen down had she been leaning any more on the door when I opened made the corners of my mouth twitch. The only woman ever to fall at my feet. She looked up at me, embarrassment written all over her face. Suppressing a laugh, I said : "Why don't you come in my dear? You will only catch a cold on the floor. There is an armchair in the room that is quite comfortable, unless you would rather stay where you are..." Her face burned red, and she turned away. I knelt down next to her and tilted her face up. Her eyes flashed with indignation, but I found I was rather enjoying it. Such a display of character was not a common occurrence in her. "How did you know I was there?" she asked in an annoyed tone. I did not answer her, the urge to laugh almost ungovernable. What a feisty little creature she could be when teased. I invited her in and indicated the armchair in the corner. She sat down in a huff, her face still flushed with anger and embarrassment, perhaps even a little resentment. I noted that her limp was barely noticeable, it would be entirely gone for the ball. She broke in on my thoughts by remarking :"One could think you are not as dedicated to your art as you ought to be, Erik. You just allowed yourself to be distracted by an admirer". Oho, that was below the belt, Christine, I thought in amusement. Parroting my very own words to tell me off. I glared at her, but the smile plastered on my lips belied my true feelings, she could see that I was not serious. She had just said she admired me, maybe she didn't grasp the hidden meaning of her choice of words, but it did not escape me. " Perhaps it is not an admirer that caught my attention, but a neglected pupil. Shall we resume our lessons?" I said, willing to direct the subject to something less childish, although it would have been entertaining to continue with our little war. I searched through my music sheets, looking for a nice piece to work on. Anything but "Faust", now was not the time to work on that particular opera, not after that disaster on her premiere *. My choice finally settled on "Céleste Aïda", one of Verdi's finest works. Christine was already at my side, waiting for us to begin. We both needed to occupy our minds with something more constructive than dwelling on past disappointments and sorrows.
Gerard Carriere's point of view (he finally has something to say!)
I went back to Erik's house several times after leaving. I was deeply uneasy as to what he would do with the girl. I should have taken her away by force, she did not know what kind of a man she was dealing with. When I saw him carrying her, unconscious, to his house and wearing his black mask, I feared the worst, but I did not dare to ask him what had happened. I followed in silence, fearful of attracting his attention. My worst fears seemed to have been in vain, as I caught glimpses of Christine and Erik together from the other side of the lake *. Today, singing could be heard from the house. They made a fine duet, those two. With a sigh, I turned and left, hoping Erik would come to his senses and let the girl go.
Two days later… (Erik and Christine went back to their music lessons, Raoul to his usual flirting, and Carriere to his meddling in other people's business)
Christine's point of view
Two days passed peacefully enough, either in musical bliss or in everyday activities. Erik would not let me see his outfit for the ball, and I found he was unusually excited. I hoped he had not come up with another sordid plan to get back at Carlotta. He had explained to me how I had come to lose my voice during the premiere, what he had done to punish Carlotta's crime (he laughed so much while he told me this that he had tears in his eyes) and scolded me for accepting a drink from a rival. His scolding was not really serious, but I knew that if I made that mistake again, Carlotta wouldn't be the only one to be punished. "Well, my dear, tonight is the is the night of the ball. I hope your ankle is better, I expect you will dance a great deal tonight…" He said then paused "If I might be so bold as to ask for the first two dances…" he finished shyly. The look in his eyes could have made me cry. He looked as though he was sure I would refuse, and was preparing to accept it with a display of indifference. I agreed to his request fervently, trying to bring back his cheerful mood. His eyes misted over, and he dropped to his knees, almost stuttering with delight. If anyone saw him, they would think I had just agreed to marry him! The ball only started at 20:00, so we had the best part of the afternoon to ourselves. We tried a few songs together, but Erik was too ecstatic to focus on his playing. He kept pacing the drawing room, incapable of remaining still for more than a minute. If he sat down, he got up a second later and resumed walking up and down. I smiled at him indulgently, such childlike eagerness was totally out of character for him. "Erik, if you don't stop going around in circles I will be quite dizzy in a minute". I said as I placed my hand on his arm. He stopped pacing and looked at me, his eyes shining with a light of their own. "You are right, of course. Perhaps you would care for a stroll through the woods?" he asked, but then a flash of pain darkened his eyes. We had not talked about the incident of the picnic since it had happened, as we were still both uneasy over it. I linked his arm with mine, and pulled him towards the front door. "A stroll around the lake would be fine" I said, hoping it would appease him. It seemed to work, for he smiled and led me to the shore. All signs of the destruction that had taken place two days ago were gone but for a few scratches on the statues that adorned the walls. We walked for a few hours, enjoying the cool air and the soft light. I leaned my head on Erik's shoulder as we walked, and he stopped abruptly. He was staring ahead at something I could not discern. I thought I saw a flash of white, but I couldn't be sure for Erik had turned around brusquely and was leading me away.
Erik's point of view
Time flew past during those two days at a dizzying speed. Had it been in my power to slow the passing of time, I would have done so gladly. Our music sessions were usually followed by my reading a book to her, or her telling me of her childhood. She tactfully avoided mentioning the vicomte in those stories, even though her years with him were probably the happiest ones she had lived. I strained to teach her to play chess, but she showed little interest in the game. I confess that what I really enjoyed was the frustrated confusion that would boil into indignation and even daring at my teasing. She had somehow found out I was ticklish, and shamelessly used that knowledge to have the last word in our conversations. She had asked to see my costume for the masquerade many times, out of genuine curiosity or just to humor me I did not know, but it didn't really matter to me. What mattered was the nagging little voice in my head urging me to formally ask for the first dance. I felt like a school boy, too shy to ask and yet unable to remain silent. The subject of the ball inevitably came up : "Well, my dear, tonight is the is the night of the ball. I hope your ankle is better, I expect you will dance a great deal tonight…" I paused, taking a deep breath for courage : " If I might be so bold as to ask for the first two dances…" I stammered, hoping I hadn't stuttered as much as I thought I had. The first two dances? Where had THAT come from? I looked at her expectantly, not knowing what to expect. She gazed at me, her eyes softened and she smiled, saying she would gladly dance with me. I fell to my knees, overcome with happiness and grinning like a perfect fool. I remember I said many things, but I couldn't remember what, nonsense, most likely. I positively felt a surge of joy washing over me like hot water, and I felt giddy and light-headed with this new, intoxicating sensation. There was a lot of time to spare before we had to make ourselves ready for the ball, but I could not focus on anything. I tried going back to music, but even Christine's angelic voice could not pacify me. I had to move, to do something. I paced around, trying to think of something to do, but no idea came. The thought of going early came to me, but it would spoil my surprise. I heard Christine's voice calling my name, and felt her hand resting on my arm. "Erik, if you don't stop going around in circles I will be quite dizzy in a minute". My face grew hot beneath the mask, how rude of me to ignore her like that. "You are right, of course. Perhaps you would care for a stroll through the woods?" That was the first thought that came to mind, but I felt like biting my tongue the minute I voiced it. The woods were the last place I wanted to see right now, and I was sure she felt the same. "A stroll around the lake would be fine" she suggested and linked her arm around mine, our shoulders almost touching. Glad to be spared further embarrassment, I led her outside and we strolled quietly around the lake. A wonderful moment, that would end only to let an even more wonderful one begin. The masked ball, there was one each year, that was a tradition, but I had not thought Choletti would still hold it. He had not respected most of the traditions of the opera, especially the ones where I was concerned. I caught a glimpse of something white out of the corner of my eye just as I felt Christine rest her head on my shoulder. I stared at the white spot, and saw Gerard hurrying away. So, you spy on me yet again, Gerard, I thought angrily. I turned around and led Christine back to the house. How dare he intrude on me like that! At least he must have been satisfied with seeing Christine alive and well, and being so close to me… I shook my head and glanced at the clock. 18:00, late enough to start and get ready for the ball. I turned to Christine, who looked at me with confusion in her eyes. She must have been wondering about my sudden change of attitude. "Oh dear, look at the time. I will take you back to your dressing room, so you can prepare for the masked ball. Go fetch your costume, I shall get the boat". I said and went to the lake once again. She hurried after me, and in too short a time for my liking she was back in her dressing room. "I will see you at the ball then my dear." I whispered before going back to get myself ready. I had a surprise for some of the guests…
Author's note : Pfew! Longest chapter so far. I hope you appreciate my attempts at humor. Please tell me if they are funny or hopelessly boring. Ah well, the ball will be in the next chapter, promised! Much more Raoul bashing to come in later chapters.
Many thanks to all those who have reviewed my fic. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
* In the movie, Christine's premiere is a disaster. Carlotta gives her something to make her lose her voice just before she goes on stage. That is prelude to the fall of the chandelier.
* The house on the lake is not hidden from view. Christine's room has windows that give on the lake. That is how Carriere manages to see what goes on inside the house. That does not make it any easier to reach the house though, just watch the movie and you'll understand my meaning.
* In that version, there is no Raoul vicomte de Chagny, there is only the count Philippe. I think it is enough to hate Raoul, no need to hate his brother as well.
To answer Raydias' question : In Leroux's version, Erik goes as the Red Death to the masked ball. All the interpretations with the masked ball feature Erik as Red Death. I don't know why, but I think it's cool. I know that the Red Death is a character of Edgar Allen Poe, but I don't know in which story it appears. The key to the mystery lies there!