Here we will leave our much-relieved managers, and focus on the disconsolate lover who was on his way to see his Angel of Music. Medda, Sarah's surrogate mother, opened the door to him, looking haggard, but relieved at the same time.
"She's in her room," she informed Jack. "She won't sleep. I don't know if she'll see you. She doesn't want to see anyone. I'll ask her if she'll see you. I can make no guarantees." She turned and headed up the stairs.
Jack nodded. He closed the door behind him and followed her. He waited patiently outside Sarah's bedroom door while Medda asked Sarah whether she would like to see Jack. Medda withdrew from the room and looked at Jack worriedly. "She won't see you," she told him. "You're welcome to stay, if you wish. I'm going to stay in with her."
Jack sighed as Medda disappeared into Sarah's room once more. She went over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, stroking Sarah's hair gently.
"Honey, where have you been? We've been terribly worried." She looked down at the pale girl on the bed with bewilderment in her eyes.
In a meek, quiet voice, Sarah began to relate to Medda her experiences with the Phantom.
The Phantom walked quickly through a dark, musty passage, and Sarah followed him closely. He led her into a small boat, only big enough to hold three people at the most. He began to maneuver the boat as if it were a gondola through the heavy mist over the water. Sarah saw dim lights, but she didn't know where they came from.
The Phantom was humming, and Sarah looked around, trusting her angel completely. She looked at him curiously.
"You sang to me while I slept. It was your voice that called to me time after time in my dressing room. I must be dreaming, because I am continually hearing you in my head," she said, more to herself than to him.
"You will sing our strange duet with me once more. My power over you will grow." Sarah was looking around her, not listening to him. "And though you are turning from me to glance behind you, I will always be there- inside your mind."
Sarah looked at him hard. "Those who have seen your face have cringed in fear. I am the mask you wear to the world."
"It's me they hear when you sing. My spirit-"
"With my voice combined."
"The Phantom of the Opera is there, in your head."
Sarah heard distant singing, though she couldn't make out the words. It sounded to her like the voices of the opera cast, though she knew not why they would continue to sing.
"In all your fantasies, you always knew that man and mystery were combined in me. And now in my maze of darkness, you can be with me forever." Sarah looked at him, almost as if in a trance. "Sing for me, your Angel of Music," he demanded.
Sarah sat up more and started to sing, as if possessed, her song getting more complex and extravagant every second. As the boat neared the shore on the other end, she belted one last high note, before passing out into the bottom of the boat.
When she awoke again, a small music box, shaped like a barrel organ, was next to her. She listened to it and stared at it, while trying to remember what had happened. There was mist, she thought. And a big lake. There were lights all around me. But where am I? There was a boat… and in the boat… there was a man. She found that she was surrounded by candles, and the Phantom sat at a large pipe organ, looking somewhat frustrated. She sat up, feeling dizzy for a moment.
"Ah, you're awake, my dear," he commented and stood up. He came over to her and helped her up, and led her nearer to where there was a large chair and a mirror with a figurine inside of it.
"I have brought you to the seat of music's throne. Here, all must pay reverence to music. You have come for one purpose and one alone. Ever since the first time I heard you sing, I have needed you here with me, to serve me, and to sing the music that I write."
Sarah just stared at him, in utter and complete shock. Almost as if on cue, the Phantom began to sing:
"Night-time sharpens,
heightens each sensation . . .
Darkness stirs and
wakes imagination . . .
Silently the senses
abandon their defences . . ."
He inched closer and closer to her as he sang, though not as if he were going to attack her.
"Slowly, gently
night unfurls its splendour . . .
Grasp it, sense it -
tremulous and tender . . .
Turn your face away
from the garish light of day,
turn your thoughts away
from cold, unfeeling light -
and listen to
the music of the night . . .
Close your eyes
and surrender to your
darkest dreams!
Purge your thoughts
of the life
you knew before!
Close your eyes,
let your spirit
start to soar!
And you'll live
as you've never
lived before . . ."
He reached her, and he touched her cheek softly with his fingertips. She cringed at the coldness of his hand, and he removed it momentarily. He continued to touch her face and hands gently, now not receiving any protest because she was so engrossed in the words and the beauty of his song.
"Softly, deftly,
music shall caress you . . .
Feel it, hear it,
secretly possess you. . .
Open up your mind,
let your fantasies unwind,
in this darkness which
you know you cannot fight -
the darkness of
the music of the night . . .
Let your mind
start a journey through a
strange new world!
Leave all thoughts
of the world
you knew before!
Let your soul
Take you where you
long to be !
Only then
can you belong
to me . . .
Floating, falling,
sweet intoxication!
Touch me, trust me
savour each sensation!
Let the dream begin,
let your darker side give in
to the power of the music that I write -
the power of the music of the night . . ."
He took her hand and led her over to the mirror. Gazing into it, she saw a perfect wax figurine of herself, wearing an extravagant white wedding gown. She took several steps towards it, in order to examine it more closely, when the figuring thrust its hands through the mirror, sending shards of glass to the floor around it. Sarah screamed and fainted out of fright. The Phantom caught her, and lifted her up. He carried her to a bed on the other side of the room where he laid her down.
When Sarah once again woke up, it was morning. The music box had been moved next to the bed she found herself in, and it was playing. The Phantom sat at his organ once more, not playing, but writing furiously. She crept out of the bed and towards the Phantom, eying his mask curiously.
"Whose was that face in the shadows?" she whispered as she neared him. "Whose is the face in the mask?" She reached out and snatched the mask off of him.
The Phantom gasped. "Damn you! You little prying Pantora! You little Viper! Is this what you wanted to see?" he screamed, motioning towards his misshapen face. "Curse you! You little lying Delilah! I cannot ever let you free now!" He dropped to his knees. "Damn you…" He covered his face with his hands. "Curse you…" He looked up at her from the floor.
"It's stranger than you ever dreamt it. Can you even bear to look or think of me now? A loathsome gargoyle, who is burning in hell, but longs to be in heaven secretly…
"But Sarah, fear can turn to love. You'll learn to find the man behind the monster; the repulsive carcass, who seems a beast, but dreams of beauty secretly…" He shook his head. "Oh, Christine…" he held his hand out to her for his mask. He placed the mask back in its place, hiding his deformed face. Sarah just stared at him, her face eyes filled with pity, and her face expressing shock.
"Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you," he told her, taking her hand and leading her back towards the boat they came in.
Medda stared at Sarah as if she had lost her mind. "All of that really happened?" she asked skeptically.
Sarah nodded. It had happened, and she knew it, whether anyone else believed her or not.
Jack sat outside the bedroom. He had listened to Sarah's tale, and his eyes were wide with wonderment. Could these tales she told be true? If they were, the magic in books and in plays was real, and those who had balked at it were wrong. But-no, it couldn't be. Magic didn't exist, and Christine must have been dreaming. He stood up and made his way back down the stairs, trying to put the pieces together. Something wasn't adding up, and he would figure it out, regardless of what it took.
Il Muto rehearsals were well under way, and Christine moved about like a zombie. She had little heart in her roles, and rarely smiled except when talking about or to Jack.
"Alright, take a break, everyone," Moe instructed her dancers. Autumn walked over to Sarah.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "You still seem unnatural."
Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. I just… I don't really know." She sighed softly.
"She's in her room," she informed Jack. "She won't sleep. I don't know if she'll see you. She doesn't want to see anyone. I'll ask her if she'll see you. I can make no guarantees." She turned and headed up the stairs.
Jack nodded. He closed the door behind him and followed her. He waited patiently outside Sarah's bedroom door while Medda asked Sarah whether she would like to see Jack. Medda withdrew from the room and looked at Jack worriedly. "She won't see you," she told him. "You're welcome to stay, if you wish. I'm going to stay in with her."
Jack sighed as Medda disappeared into Sarah's room once more. She went over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, stroking Sarah's hair gently.
"Honey, where have you been? We've been terribly worried." She looked down at the pale girl on the bed with bewilderment in her eyes.
In a meek, quiet voice, Sarah began to relate to Medda her experiences with the Phantom.
The Phantom walked quickly through a dark, musty passage, and Sarah followed him closely. He led her into a small boat, only big enough to hold three people at the most. He began to maneuver the boat as if it were a gondola through the heavy mist over the water. Sarah saw dim lights, but she didn't know where they came from.
The Phantom was humming, and Sarah looked around, trusting her angel completely. She looked at him curiously.
"You sang to me while I slept. It was your voice that called to me time after time in my dressing room. I must be dreaming, because I am continually hearing you in my head," she said, more to herself than to him.
"You will sing our strange duet with me once more. My power over you will grow." Sarah was looking around her, not listening to him. "And though you are turning from me to glance behind you, I will always be there- inside your mind."
Sarah looked at him hard. "Those who have seen your face have cringed in fear. I am the mask you wear to the world."
"It's me they hear when you sing. My spirit-"
"With my voice combined."
"The Phantom of the Opera is there, in your head."
Sarah heard distant singing, though she couldn't make out the words. It sounded to her like the voices of the opera cast, though she knew not why they would continue to sing.
"In all your fantasies, you always knew that man and mystery were combined in me. And now in my maze of darkness, you can be with me forever." Sarah looked at him, almost as if in a trance. "Sing for me, your Angel of Music," he demanded.
Sarah sat up more and started to sing, as if possessed, her song getting more complex and extravagant every second. As the boat neared the shore on the other end, she belted one last high note, before passing out into the bottom of the boat.
When she awoke again, a small music box, shaped like a barrel organ, was next to her. She listened to it and stared at it, while trying to remember what had happened. There was mist, she thought. And a big lake. There were lights all around me. But where am I? There was a boat… and in the boat… there was a man. She found that she was surrounded by candles, and the Phantom sat at a large pipe organ, looking somewhat frustrated. She sat up, feeling dizzy for a moment.
"Ah, you're awake, my dear," he commented and stood up. He came over to her and helped her up, and led her nearer to where there was a large chair and a mirror with a figurine inside of it.
"I have brought you to the seat of music's throne. Here, all must pay reverence to music. You have come for one purpose and one alone. Ever since the first time I heard you sing, I have needed you here with me, to serve me, and to sing the music that I write."
Sarah just stared at him, in utter and complete shock. Almost as if on cue, the Phantom began to sing:
"Night-time sharpens,
heightens each sensation . . .
Darkness stirs and
wakes imagination . . .
Silently the senses
abandon their defences . . ."
He inched closer and closer to her as he sang, though not as if he were going to attack her.
"Slowly, gently
night unfurls its splendour . . .
Grasp it, sense it -
tremulous and tender . . .
Turn your face away
from the garish light of day,
turn your thoughts away
from cold, unfeeling light -
and listen to
the music of the night . . .
Close your eyes
and surrender to your
darkest dreams!
Purge your thoughts
of the life
you knew before!
Close your eyes,
let your spirit
start to soar!
And you'll live
as you've never
lived before . . ."
He reached her, and he touched her cheek softly with his fingertips. She cringed at the coldness of his hand, and he removed it momentarily. He continued to touch her face and hands gently, now not receiving any protest because she was so engrossed in the words and the beauty of his song.
"Softly, deftly,
music shall caress you . . .
Feel it, hear it,
secretly possess you. . .
Open up your mind,
let your fantasies unwind,
in this darkness which
you know you cannot fight -
the darkness of
the music of the night . . .
Let your mind
start a journey through a
strange new world!
Leave all thoughts
of the world
you knew before!
Let your soul
Take you where you
long to be !
Only then
can you belong
to me . . .
Floating, falling,
sweet intoxication!
Touch me, trust me
savour each sensation!
Let the dream begin,
let your darker side give in
to the power of the music that I write -
the power of the music of the night . . ."
He took her hand and led her over to the mirror. Gazing into it, she saw a perfect wax figurine of herself, wearing an extravagant white wedding gown. She took several steps towards it, in order to examine it more closely, when the figuring thrust its hands through the mirror, sending shards of glass to the floor around it. Sarah screamed and fainted out of fright. The Phantom caught her, and lifted her up. He carried her to a bed on the other side of the room where he laid her down.
When Sarah once again woke up, it was morning. The music box had been moved next to the bed she found herself in, and it was playing. The Phantom sat at his organ once more, not playing, but writing furiously. She crept out of the bed and towards the Phantom, eying his mask curiously.
"Whose was that face in the shadows?" she whispered as she neared him. "Whose is the face in the mask?" She reached out and snatched the mask off of him.
The Phantom gasped. "Damn you! You little prying Pantora! You little Viper! Is this what you wanted to see?" he screamed, motioning towards his misshapen face. "Curse you! You little lying Delilah! I cannot ever let you free now!" He dropped to his knees. "Damn you…" He covered his face with his hands. "Curse you…" He looked up at her from the floor.
"It's stranger than you ever dreamt it. Can you even bear to look or think of me now? A loathsome gargoyle, who is burning in hell, but longs to be in heaven secretly…
"But Sarah, fear can turn to love. You'll learn to find the man behind the monster; the repulsive carcass, who seems a beast, but dreams of beauty secretly…" He shook his head. "Oh, Christine…" he held his hand out to her for his mask. He placed the mask back in its place, hiding his deformed face. Sarah just stared at him, her face eyes filled with pity, and her face expressing shock.
"Come, we must return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you," he told her, taking her hand and leading her back towards the boat they came in.
Medda stared at Sarah as if she had lost her mind. "All of that really happened?" she asked skeptically.
Sarah nodded. It had happened, and she knew it, whether anyone else believed her or not.
Jack sat outside the bedroom. He had listened to Sarah's tale, and his eyes were wide with wonderment. Could these tales she told be true? If they were, the magic in books and in plays was real, and those who had balked at it were wrong. But-no, it couldn't be. Magic didn't exist, and Christine must have been dreaming. He stood up and made his way back down the stairs, trying to put the pieces together. Something wasn't adding up, and he would figure it out, regardless of what it took.
Il Muto rehearsals were well under way, and Christine moved about like a zombie. She had little heart in her roles, and rarely smiled except when talking about or to Jack.
"Alright, take a break, everyone," Moe instructed her dancers. Autumn walked over to Sarah.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "You still seem unnatural."
Sarah shrugged. "I don't know. I just… I don't really know." She sighed softly.
