Buquet smiled as charmingly as his old face would allow and answered, "My
dear Giry. I have no need to fear. If the Ghost becomes vexed with my
tales, I am under full assurance that you will put in a good word for me."
I turned to my mother. "Mama?" I questioned.
"Meg, forget everything you hear. The less you know the better. I do not want you involved!" Her face flushed. "Stay away from dark corridors alone. Don't go wandering off. Do not go looking for Christine. Don't." she trailed off. "Don't think I am mad, I only want to protect you."
I stared. "But Mama, is this real? The Opera Ghost, is he-"
"Marguerite Ana Giry! I said forget!" My mother stamped her cane and stormed off.
I whirled around. "Buquet, what." He was gone. I pondered everything I had just seen. My mother apparently not only believed in the ghost, but also had met him. And she was frightened. That was enough for me. The Opera Ghost was real. Sitting, I thought aloud. "So the Opera Ghost is real. Is he a ghost? Or a man?"
I wondered. "Why are there so many different unknowns at the opera? The Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera, and now Christine's Angel of Music. What if." I stopped at such a profound revelation. "What if they are all the same? It seems rather strange that such three specters would appear at the same time at the same place unless they were all related." It was rather far-fetched, but I was beginning to believe anything at this point. I was sitting there, trying to understand my sudden discovery when it dawned on me. "Christine is missing. More likely than not, she is with her angel. And her angel is the ghost, then Phantom! I need to find her!" Forgetting my mother's warning, I leaped off my box and hurried to the wings.
At the edge of the stage, I saw something move. Turning my head to look, I forgot to watch where I was going. I ran into a dark shape in the wings and fell to the floor in a heap. I lay there for a minute, my head spinning. Apparently, I had run into a large piece of scenery, or perhaps a prop. Maybe I bumped into Piangi's elephant.
Carefully I sat up and stared at the form in front of me. "Who.who are you?" I managed to gasp out. A shadow moved closer. Did my eyes deceive me, or was the shadow sporting a full-length black cloak and dress hat? Did ghosts wear dress hats? Straining my eyes, I saw it was a man. And not only was he wearing a dress hat, but a complete suit. In his hand, he held a rope in the shape of a noose. I scrambled to my feet and backed away. Unfortunately, my sense of direction was off and instead of making it to the exit, I ended up at the edge of the stage. In the dark, I nearly fell off. The man stepped out of the dark and I saw his face. One half was the most handsome face I had ever seen. The other was covered with a white mask. One eye was green, the other blue. The mask covered most of his forehead, the right side of his face, and his entire nose. It sloped to reveal a disfigured mouth and chin. While I was evaluating him, I felt his eyes doing the same to me.
Nervously I glanced behind me. The theatre was empty, just my luck. I decided to try again.
"Who are you?"
The man gave a slight growl in his throat. "And why is my identity any of your business?"
My jaw dropped at the sound of his voice. It was beautiful. The voice of an angel. Strong and powerful, and yet soft and velvety at the same time. In awe, I replied, "Monsieur, I only wish to know who is wandering about the opera. There has been strange events occurring here recently and I do not think anyone should be drifting about alone."
I turned to my mother. "Mama?" I questioned.
"Meg, forget everything you hear. The less you know the better. I do not want you involved!" Her face flushed. "Stay away from dark corridors alone. Don't go wandering off. Do not go looking for Christine. Don't." she trailed off. "Don't think I am mad, I only want to protect you."
I stared. "But Mama, is this real? The Opera Ghost, is he-"
"Marguerite Ana Giry! I said forget!" My mother stamped her cane and stormed off.
I whirled around. "Buquet, what." He was gone. I pondered everything I had just seen. My mother apparently not only believed in the ghost, but also had met him. And she was frightened. That was enough for me. The Opera Ghost was real. Sitting, I thought aloud. "So the Opera Ghost is real. Is he a ghost? Or a man?"
I wondered. "Why are there so many different unknowns at the opera? The Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera, and now Christine's Angel of Music. What if." I stopped at such a profound revelation. "What if they are all the same? It seems rather strange that such three specters would appear at the same time at the same place unless they were all related." It was rather far-fetched, but I was beginning to believe anything at this point. I was sitting there, trying to understand my sudden discovery when it dawned on me. "Christine is missing. More likely than not, she is with her angel. And her angel is the ghost, then Phantom! I need to find her!" Forgetting my mother's warning, I leaped off my box and hurried to the wings.
At the edge of the stage, I saw something move. Turning my head to look, I forgot to watch where I was going. I ran into a dark shape in the wings and fell to the floor in a heap. I lay there for a minute, my head spinning. Apparently, I had run into a large piece of scenery, or perhaps a prop. Maybe I bumped into Piangi's elephant.
Carefully I sat up and stared at the form in front of me. "Who.who are you?" I managed to gasp out. A shadow moved closer. Did my eyes deceive me, or was the shadow sporting a full-length black cloak and dress hat? Did ghosts wear dress hats? Straining my eyes, I saw it was a man. And not only was he wearing a dress hat, but a complete suit. In his hand, he held a rope in the shape of a noose. I scrambled to my feet and backed away. Unfortunately, my sense of direction was off and instead of making it to the exit, I ended up at the edge of the stage. In the dark, I nearly fell off. The man stepped out of the dark and I saw his face. One half was the most handsome face I had ever seen. The other was covered with a white mask. One eye was green, the other blue. The mask covered most of his forehead, the right side of his face, and his entire nose. It sloped to reveal a disfigured mouth and chin. While I was evaluating him, I felt his eyes doing the same to me.
Nervously I glanced behind me. The theatre was empty, just my luck. I decided to try again.
"Who are you?"
The man gave a slight growl in his throat. "And why is my identity any of your business?"
My jaw dropped at the sound of his voice. It was beautiful. The voice of an angel. Strong and powerful, and yet soft and velvety at the same time. In awe, I replied, "Monsieur, I only wish to know who is wandering about the opera. There has been strange events occurring here recently and I do not think anyone should be drifting about alone."