The Note and the Name
Erik's eyes followed Christine's note as it slowly dropped to the floor in the space between them, and then his gaze lifted again, even more slowly, back up to her.
Her eyes had not moved from his actions in that long silence of bewildered horror...But as soon as he looked at her again, she snapped out of it and bent quickly to retrieve it. "It's something I have not...sent to Meg, yet..." She quickly and very tightly closed the paper in her hand.
He took a couple measured steps towards her. "Oh, is it?"
She moved back and pressed against the wood of the door. Her face flushed, but she kept her lie, continuing it as if her life depended on it as her shaking fingers searched backwards for the handle behind her. "Yes...That's all that it is, Erik!"
"Then you won't mind if I read it."
She turned the latch quickly and opened the door the smallest crack. "It's...It's a private note, Erik..."
"Oh, I'm sure that it is, Christine. But, you see, the matter is that I don't believe you."
"I'll let you see the note later, Erik, after I have...finished my nap...Please..." She opened the door further and began to inch inside.
He laughed at her remark. "That arrangement would suit you, wouldn't it? For you will go inside, burn the note in your hand at the hearth, and then write another."
"I would not deceive you that way, Erik!" she exclaimed in all irony...And then continued in a still bold but subtler tone. "My letters should rightfully remain my own..."
"They should, should they? I would be more than obliged to concede to that consideration, my dear, but I'm afraid that is impossible when you so obviously are hiding something from me."
"I am not hiding anything! Why do you always suspect I am hiding...something and that Raoul is part of it!" It was her mistake that she did not realize that Erik had not actually made a single specific reference to Raoul.
But Erik did realize this. He outright glared at Christine then and started to move to her again with new purpose. "The guilty conscience speaks against the will of the mind. Give me the letter."
She shook her head and once more thrust the letter behind the shelter of her back. Acting quickly, she began to unfold it with full intention of ripping it to shreds at that very moment. But it was madness for her to think that her deceiving hands were faster than Erik's! And in an instant, he had grabbed her and pulled her arms from behind her back, snatching the letter from her frantically clutching fingers. The swiftness of his actions were so abrupt that Christine fell to her knees before him, almost as if begging for mercy...Which, in a way, she knew she would soon be desperately needing...
She implored him hurriedly, "Erik, it is only a friendly letter! I have not spoken to him in such a long while! I've missed him! I only wanted to see him for a bit..."
He looked down at her in pained malice for a tense moment...And then leaned over her slowly and lifted up the letter to the side of her face as he glared straight into her eyes. "A friendly letter, is this?" He gently tapped the edge of the paper against her temple. "Well, we'll just have to see how friendly it is."
She attempted to seize the note back from him as he touched her with it, while crying defiantly, "Don't read my letter, Erik! It is my letter!...Please...It says nothing but asks him to meet me! That's all it says!"
Her efforts were made futile as he roughly grabbed the hand she was using to try and take the note. He used his grasp on her to pull her up to her feet again and did not release either the paper or her hand, but he said in a strangely reflexive tone, "All right. I won't read it."
She looked at him guardedly and was unconvinced. She held out her free hand, though, and asked in hope, "May I have it back, then?"
"No." He held it a bit further away from her and then started to pull her across the room toward his luscious black, leather chair that loomed near the extravagantly carved mantelpiece of the parlor hearth. He then pushed her down to sit in the chair with forceful authoritativeness. "I won't read it; but, you see, I do want to know what it says. So, my dear, you will read it to me."
She stumbled a little as her foot caught the hem of her skirts as they twisted under her when she practically fell into the seat. She gazed up at him with glassy eyes, but somewhere in her subconscious, she was grateful to be able to sit down. She nodded obediently and held out her hand to him once more. "All right...I'll read it..."
He ignored her gesture and turned up the flame of the oil lamp that stood on the ebony table next to her to its very brightest. Then he slowly and calculatingly unfolded the letter and held it out in the air before her at arm's length between himself and the light, and so that it was also a close enough distance to allow Christine to read it, but still too far away for her to easily reach it.
"Go ahead, Christine. Word for word, if you would be so kind."
She felt the skin on her cheeks becoming stiff as her earlier tears were beginning to dry in evaporating streaks. She stared at the paper for what seemed like infinity but could not have been more than a passing moment, and then she began to read. However, she most certainly did not read the letter 'word for word.' She attempted her best to leave out the parts that betrayed her true feelings for Raoul as well as those words that made it obvious that they had been meeting regularly...And, of course, she excluded the full version of her signature...
"My..." She stopped and pressed her lips together, exhaling slowly, and then started again. "Dear Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow...at...at midnight, after the...Opera is over at the exit on..." She hesitated then for a long moment before continuing, "Love...Christine Daaé."
Erik shook his head a little and said reprimandingly, "Well, I cannot very well expect you to do perfectly on the first rehearsal. Try it again."
She shrank back into the dark creases of the chair and looked up at his stern figure behind the extended paper. "That is what it says..."
He met her eyes threateningly. "Read it again. Read every word on this paper or I will do it myself."
She lowered her eyes quickly and closed them for a moment. Then looking at the paper again, she began to read once more, repeating the note 'word for word' this time:
"My...dearest...Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow at midnight...after the Opera is over at the exit on the rotunda side...again, instead of...at our...our...usual t-time and...and place. I...I had a lovely time...today, as I...as...as I do...every...every day we spend together...and...and...Until...until to-tomorrow...my...my darling... Love...Love...Love...Christine."
Well...It was almost word for word...
"Wrong. One last try." Erik's chilling voice caused Christine's clammy, heated fear to immediately develop into an incomparably icy terror.
Her voice was only able to come out in a very small and strained sound by now, but she began again and this time did not dare omit or change a single mark of ink on the thin slip of paper...However, she was unable to prevent herself from stopping and hesitating many times in sickening anxiety as she forced her way through it for the last time...Word For Word.
"My dearest...belov-beloved Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow at midnight, after the Opera is over...at the...the exit on the rotunda side again...instead...instead of at...our usual time and place. I had a...a lovely time today as I do...every...p-precious day we spend...to-to- together...and...and I...I miss you already...Until tomorrow...my...darling. Love...Christine...de Chagny."
Her eyes had not moved from his actions in that long silence of bewildered horror...But as soon as he looked at her again, she snapped out of it and bent quickly to retrieve it. "It's something I have not...sent to Meg, yet..." She quickly and very tightly closed the paper in her hand.
He took a couple measured steps towards her. "Oh, is it?"
She moved back and pressed against the wood of the door. Her face flushed, but she kept her lie, continuing it as if her life depended on it as her shaking fingers searched backwards for the handle behind her. "Yes...That's all that it is, Erik!"
"Then you won't mind if I read it."
She turned the latch quickly and opened the door the smallest crack. "It's...It's a private note, Erik..."
"Oh, I'm sure that it is, Christine. But, you see, the matter is that I don't believe you."
"I'll let you see the note later, Erik, after I have...finished my nap...Please..." She opened the door further and began to inch inside.
He laughed at her remark. "That arrangement would suit you, wouldn't it? For you will go inside, burn the note in your hand at the hearth, and then write another."
"I would not deceive you that way, Erik!" she exclaimed in all irony...And then continued in a still bold but subtler tone. "My letters should rightfully remain my own..."
"They should, should they? I would be more than obliged to concede to that consideration, my dear, but I'm afraid that is impossible when you so obviously are hiding something from me."
"I am not hiding anything! Why do you always suspect I am hiding...something and that Raoul is part of it!" It was her mistake that she did not realize that Erik had not actually made a single specific reference to Raoul.
But Erik did realize this. He outright glared at Christine then and started to move to her again with new purpose. "The guilty conscience speaks against the will of the mind. Give me the letter."
She shook her head and once more thrust the letter behind the shelter of her back. Acting quickly, she began to unfold it with full intention of ripping it to shreds at that very moment. But it was madness for her to think that her deceiving hands were faster than Erik's! And in an instant, he had grabbed her and pulled her arms from behind her back, snatching the letter from her frantically clutching fingers. The swiftness of his actions were so abrupt that Christine fell to her knees before him, almost as if begging for mercy...Which, in a way, she knew she would soon be desperately needing...
She implored him hurriedly, "Erik, it is only a friendly letter! I have not spoken to him in such a long while! I've missed him! I only wanted to see him for a bit..."
He looked down at her in pained malice for a tense moment...And then leaned over her slowly and lifted up the letter to the side of her face as he glared straight into her eyes. "A friendly letter, is this?" He gently tapped the edge of the paper against her temple. "Well, we'll just have to see how friendly it is."
She attempted to seize the note back from him as he touched her with it, while crying defiantly, "Don't read my letter, Erik! It is my letter!...Please...It says nothing but asks him to meet me! That's all it says!"
Her efforts were made futile as he roughly grabbed the hand she was using to try and take the note. He used his grasp on her to pull her up to her feet again and did not release either the paper or her hand, but he said in a strangely reflexive tone, "All right. I won't read it."
She looked at him guardedly and was unconvinced. She held out her free hand, though, and asked in hope, "May I have it back, then?"
"No." He held it a bit further away from her and then started to pull her across the room toward his luscious black, leather chair that loomed near the extravagantly carved mantelpiece of the parlor hearth. He then pushed her down to sit in the chair with forceful authoritativeness. "I won't read it; but, you see, I do want to know what it says. So, my dear, you will read it to me."
She stumbled a little as her foot caught the hem of her skirts as they twisted under her when she practically fell into the seat. She gazed up at him with glassy eyes, but somewhere in her subconscious, she was grateful to be able to sit down. She nodded obediently and held out her hand to him once more. "All right...I'll read it..."
He ignored her gesture and turned up the flame of the oil lamp that stood on the ebony table next to her to its very brightest. Then he slowly and calculatingly unfolded the letter and held it out in the air before her at arm's length between himself and the light, and so that it was also a close enough distance to allow Christine to read it, but still too far away for her to easily reach it.
"Go ahead, Christine. Word for word, if you would be so kind."
She felt the skin on her cheeks becoming stiff as her earlier tears were beginning to dry in evaporating streaks. She stared at the paper for what seemed like infinity but could not have been more than a passing moment, and then she began to read. However, she most certainly did not read the letter 'word for word.' She attempted her best to leave out the parts that betrayed her true feelings for Raoul as well as those words that made it obvious that they had been meeting regularly...And, of course, she excluded the full version of her signature...
"My..." She stopped and pressed her lips together, exhaling slowly, and then started again. "Dear Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow...at...at midnight, after the...Opera is over at the exit on..." She hesitated then for a long moment before continuing, "Love...Christine Daaé."
Erik shook his head a little and said reprimandingly, "Well, I cannot very well expect you to do perfectly on the first rehearsal. Try it again."
She shrank back into the dark creases of the chair and looked up at his stern figure behind the extended paper. "That is what it says..."
He met her eyes threateningly. "Read it again. Read every word on this paper or I will do it myself."
She lowered her eyes quickly and closed them for a moment. Then looking at the paper again, she began to read once more, repeating the note 'word for word' this time:
"My...dearest...Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow at midnight...after the Opera is over at the exit on the rotunda side...again, instead of...at our...our...usual t-time and...and place. I...I had a lovely time...today, as I...as...as I do...every...every day we spend together...and...and...Until...until to-tomorrow...my...my darling... Love...Love...Love...Christine."
Well...It was almost word for word...
"Wrong. One last try." Erik's chilling voice caused Christine's clammy, heated fear to immediately develop into an incomparably icy terror.
Her voice was only able to come out in a very small and strained sound by now, but she began again and this time did not dare omit or change a single mark of ink on the thin slip of paper...However, she was unable to prevent herself from stopping and hesitating many times in sickening anxiety as she forced her way through it for the last time...Word For Word.
"My dearest...belov-beloved Raoul...Please meet me tomorrow at midnight, after the Opera is over...at the...the exit on the rotunda side again...instead...instead of at...our usual time and place. I had a...a lovely time today as I do...every...p-precious day we spend...to-to- together...and...and I...I miss you already...Until tomorrow...my...darling. Love...Christine...de Chagny."
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