"Say something, Marc!" Chrissy pleaded in a whisper.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice almost as quiet and scared as hers.
"How exactly do you tell someone something like this?" she cried, "It's not exactly the best way to break the ice when you first meet someone!"
"You could have told me before I kissed you!" Marc replied.
Chrissy bit her lip. She turned away from Marc.
"You didn't want to, did you?" Marc asked.
Chrissy shoke her head. Tears started to fall out of her eyes. She was so grateful that Marc couldn't see her crying.
"I'm sorry," she said through jagged breaths, "I knew what you were going to do, and...I'm just so sorry. I had never felt a real kiss before."
Marc didn't say anything right away. Chrissy just stood there with her back to him, tears running down from her eyelids.
"Chrissy, I don't really know what to say," he said, "I mean, I still feel for you, but, my mother always told me that nobody could trust the Phantom."
"How dare you say that!" Chrissy said, wiping around, "You don't even know my father! You don't even know me! And your mother certainly doesn't know my father! Where did she find out everything about him, anyway?"
"Chrissy!" Marc said, "You need to calm down, I wasn't-"
"Just leave me alone, Marc!" Chrissy cried. She ran around the side of the opera house, tears still spilling out of her eyes. Marc went to chase after her, but, once again, when he got there, she was gone.
"How does she do that?" he whispered to himself before walking away.
"Wouldn't you like to know!" Chrissy whispered to herself up in the tall oak tree that was next to the wall. When Marc was out of site, Chrissy climbed back down and snuck back through the passageway to the laybrinth, feeling as if she had lost everything in the world that had ment anything to her.
Now, Chrissy stood with her back to the door of her room. She sunk to her knees and buried her face in them, letting her tears soak through her dress. She must had been crying much harder and louder than she thought because, a moment later, there was a knock on her door.
"Chrissy?" Erik asked through the wood, "Is that you Chrissy? What's wrong?"
"Um," Chrissy said, rushing around to put on her night dress, "Nothing, Daddy, I was just had a bad dream is all!"
Quickly, she jumped under the covers just as her father stepped into the room.
"About what, my dear?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed.
"Momma," she said, saying the first thing that popped into her head.
"You haven't dreamt about your mother for ten years, since you were six. Why all of a sudden has your nightmare come back?" he asked.
"I don't know," Chrissy replied, "It just did!"
"Well," Erik said, "Why don't you come out here and see what I'm working on now."
"Oh, have you started a new opera, Daddy?" Chrissy asked, following her father out of the room.
"No," Erik said, "it's just a way I think I may be able to get our box back, and my monthly salary."
"The new managers took away your monthly salary as well, Daddy?" she asked.
"Oh, yes!" Erik replied, "I'm sending them a private note so as to persuade them to give it back."
"A private note?" Chrissy asked, suddenly interested, "How do you do that?"
"Oh, I am not going to be leaving it for them. That will be your job."
"Me?" Chrissy was puzzled.
"Yes, Chrissy, you know the passage ways and the secret entrances to every room and hall way in the entire opera house better than anyone. Most of which are much too small for a man of my size to fit through. Besides, I haven't had the best of luck with...new managers."
"Whatever do you mean, Daddy?" Chrissy asked, knowing very little about her father's past.
"It's not important, my dear!" Erik answered hastily. He sealed the envelope that was on the piano in the living room with some wax and handed it to Chrissy.
"Now," he said, "Get dressed and deliver this as soon as you can to the manager's office. Preferably before they arrive this morning. Unless you are still feeling ill or upset."
"No," Chrissy said, looking down at the wax sealing the envelope, "No, I'm feeling much better!"
Chrissy dashed into her room, she had a sudden idea of how to get Marc to talk to her again without her being there.
Around 8 a.m. that morning, the carriage that M. and Mme. Andre-Firmin rode in arrived at the opera house. They're daughter accompanyed them.
"I still don't understand why you won't accept Lord Henry's porposal, Aniette." Mme. Andre-Firmin was saying to her daughter as they entered the office.
"Mother, please, I'm not ready for marriage yet! I'm only 17 years old and I don't even love him." Aniette replied.
"What's love got to do with it?" Mme. Firmin asked.
"Love's got everything to do with it!" she answered, "I noticed that when you were my age, you married someone that you were in love with!"
M. Firmin, who was not listening, had picked up two notes on his desk.
"Marie," he asked, starring at the envelopes, "did you leave these notes here last night?"
Mme. Firmin came over by her husband's side to look at the notes, "No, I can honestly say I haven't. Are they addressed to you?"
"One is," M. Firmin said, "the other is addressed to the Viscount's son, Marc."
"Marc?" someone said as she walked through the door of the office, "What does my son have to do with anything?"
Christine Viscount de Chagny and Marc had just entered the office.
"Well, Mme. Viscount de Chagny," Mme. Firmin said, "This note was left here for your son."
Mme. Firmin handed Christine the letter. Christine examined it for a moment.
"'To: Marc Viscount de Chagny, From: O.A.' Who's 'O.A.?'" Christine asked.
Marc shrugged. He took the letter from his mother and stepped out into the hall. Aniette followed him.
"Who's that other note for, Monsieur?" Christine asked.
"Why, it's for me, Madame." he said, "'To: M.Firmin, From:O.G.' Who could that be?"
Christine practically froze to death when she heard those words, "Did you just say 'O.G.'?"
"Yes, Madame, I did," M. Firmin replied.
Christine walked right over to M. Firmin and snatched the note from his hands. She was muttering something, more to herself than anyone.
"No," she said, "No, it can't be. He's gone! He can't be here. He wouldn't know I was here if he was..."
"Who is that from, Marc?" Aniette asked. She had followed Marc into the hall, egar to see who had left him the letter.
"I think I know," he said, ripping open the top. He pulled out a letter with very neat writing.
Dear Marc,
I'm sorry that things didn't go as either of us had planned last night. I know I must have frightened you a bit when I told you about my life and I'm sure that you are angry at me now, but Marc, I feel simply dreadful about our meeting. Please, I must see you again. Meet me tonight on the roof of the opera house at the beginning of the second act in tonight's show. I promise I will be there on time. I understand if you do not wish to come, but Marc I had to at least try to tell you how I really feel. See you tonight, hopefully.
Affectionately yours,
The Opera Angel
"Oh," he said, "That's what O.A. stood for, the Opera Angel."
"Excuse me?" Aniette asked.
Marc, after making Aniette swear she'd tell no one about his new friend, told her all about Chrissy. Her mouth was wide open when she had finished.
"You mean the story about the...the phantom is real?" Aniette asked, her voice shaking.
Marc nodded.
"My grandfathers told me that story so many times, but they always said it was just a myth. It was proven that he never exsisted!"
"My mother and father told me the same thing when I was just a little boy." Marc replied.
Marc was silent for a while, he read the letter over in over, lost in deep thought. Finally, Aniette spoke.
"Marc?" she said, "You're not actually considering meeting with this girl, are you?"
Again, Marc was silent for a moment. He looked up a second later.
"Well, don't you think I should?" Marc asked.
"Hold on a second." she said. She grabbed Marc by the arm and pulled him into a broom closet down the corridor.
"Are you crazy?" she asked. Even in the dark, Marc could tell she had a look of the utmost shock on her face.
"Well, Aniette, you don't know her like I do!" Marc replied.
"Apparently, you don't know her that well, either from what I hear from your story. I say you forget about her!"
"Why?"
"Look," Aniette said, "If everything my grandfathers have told me is true, then The Phantom of the Opera is a very dangerous man. How do we know that the Phantess isn't as dangerous?"
"That's a good point, Annie, I didn't even think of that." Marc said, "But I at least have to give it a shot. If I don't, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. I just have to go."
"Fine!" Ani said, "But I'm going with you!"
Meanwhile, back in M. Firmin's office, Christine was opening the letter addressed to M. Firmin. She read the letter silently for a moment. When she finished, her face was whiter than snow. She handed the letter back to M. Firmin with a shaking hand. He took it and Christine walked over to a chair, where she practically collapsed, covering her face with her hand.
"What did the letter say, Mme?" Mme. Firmin asked.
"I can't believe it's him!" was all she could say, panic in her voice, "How did he know I was here? How?"
Curiousity finally getting the better of M. Firmin, he took the letter and read aloud.
Dear M. Firmin,
First, might I add, I would like to welcome you and your wife to the theater. It will surely be a shame to lose Mr. Harrison, he was such a nice manager. Of course, if you happen to keep things the same, I don't see why we can't get along.
The new singer you chose is absolutely exquisite, of course most of her talent is thanks to me. I surely have missed her voice. It is nice to see what my gift has brought her, fame and fortune. I plan to be paying her a visit sometime soon. Her and that husband of hers. I'm sure they have missed me almost as much as I've missed them.
Now, there is the matter of my monthly salary and mine and my daughter's private box. Of course, I understand you are new and last night was just a misunderstanding, but I hope that this will never happen again. I'm sure Mr. Harrison told you of how much my monthly salary is, and if he didn't...well, just speak to your father and your father-in-law. They'll be able to tell you.
I sincerely hope that we shall not have anymore problems. If not, you may go on running the opera house normally and efficently, and tell Mlle. Christine that I shall be seeing her very soon.
Your obidient servant,
The Opera Ghost
M. Firmin finished the letter utterly confused. He looked over at Christine who still had her hand over her face.
"What does this mean, Mme.?" he asked.
Christine looked up at M. and Mme. Firmin. She was still white-faced and looked utterly confused.
"Well," she said, "I knew your fathers very well, I'm sure they told you the story of the Phantom of the Opera."
The Firmins nodded, interest and curiousity shinning in their eyes.
"Well," she said, "I guess...after he disappeared...he must have been following me for years and now he's finally decided to speak here!"
Mme. Firmin gasped and placed a hand over her mouth.
"I can't believe it!" M. Firmin said, going over to comfort his wife. "Have you met with...him?"
"No!" she said, "I didn't even know he was still alive until just now!"
Christine stood up. She was shaking all over. She took the letter from M. Firmin. "But, there's one thing I don't understand."
"What?" asked. Mme. Firmin, taking the hand away from her mouth.
"He said 'Now, there is the matter of my monthly salary and mine and my daughter's private box.' Last time I saw him over 20 years ago, he didn't have a daughter."
"Do you think it's possible that he was married?" M. Firmin asked.
"I don't know," Christine said, "But I truely hope he was, it would make everything alot easier."
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, which made all three of them jump.
"Who is it?" Mme. Firmin asked after a moment.
"It's M. Viscount de Chagny." Raoul said from the other side, which made Christine even more scared.
"Please!" she begged in a whisper, "Don't tell him about this! He's always been a bit shaken up about the Phantom, even more than I."
"Why is that?" M. Firmin asked.
"Last time we encountered him, he...he almost killed him. This was a long time ago, we weren't even married then. Please, don't breath a word!"
Mme. Firmin nodded and slowly walked over to the door. Christine hid the note behind her back as Raoul walked in.
"Just thought I'd come and see what was keeping Christine." he said, looking over at his wife. A look of concern crossed his face when he saw how white she was.
"My darling, what is troubling you?" He asked, coming over. Christine clutched the note tightly.
"N-nothing!" she said, trying to hide the panic in her voice. Worry and terror crept slowly through her vains and Raoul put a hand on his wife's ice cold face.
"Are you sure?" he asked, "You don't exactly look normal, my dear."
"Everything's fine, Raoul, darling, I think it's just the...New York atmosphere! I mean, we are very close to the harbor and you know, I've never been a fan of salt air."
"Right," Raoul nodded, not completely convinced, "What's that you've got behind your back?" he asked, trying to look over he shoulder.
"Oh, that's just a letter of mine!" M. Firmin said, rushing over and taking it from Christine. "But, I don't need it anymore, so I'll just diguard of it!"
Quickly, M. Firmin throw the Phantom's note into the fire place. It shriveled up in a matter of seconds.
"Oh," Raoul said, "Well, then, I guess Christine and I will be on our way."
Raoul began to lead Christine from the office. She looked back at the Firmin's, mouthed a quick "Thank-you" while Raoul wasn't looking and left with her husband. As the door shut, M. Firmin picked up the phone.
"Who are you calling, dear?" Mme. Firmin asked.
"Our fathers." he said, "Apparently, we have a few money matters to discuss."
Storys below them, Chrissy was climbing through a very small, dark tunnel. She climbed out a second later, dusted off her dress and ran down the passage ways and across the river and into her laybrinth. Erik was waiting for her.
"Did you deliver the letter?" he asked with batted breath.
"Yes," she replied.
"Did you watch for an answer through the passage way?" he asked.
"Yes," Chrissy said again. Although she would have liked to watch Marc and his reaction to his letter, she had promised her father to wait for a reaction from the Firmins. "I also have some news. The Viscount's wife was there. She read the note first and she grew very frightened. She said she knew you over 20 years ago and you tried to kill the Viscount. Is this true? Was this before you met Momma?"
Erik looked taken a back at first, but quickly recovered. "I have absolutely no idea what they are talking about."
"But you said in that note that you knew her and most of her singing talent was thanks you. Was she a student of yours?"
"Yes, she was, but she left after she got engaged." Erik turned away as he said this. He walked over to his piano.
"Was I named after her, Daddy?" Chrissy asked.
"Christine!" Erik cried, whipping around, "How dare you ask so many questions. Go to your room!"
Chrissy was shocked. Her father never raised her voice to her. He never cared before about the questions she would ask. Why all of a sudden now?
Reluctantly, Chrissy went into her room. Oh well. If her father wasn't going to answer her wonderings, she wasn't going to worry about it. She had more important things on her mind and a while to think about them. For it was a long time before the second act of that night's performance.