Chapter IV: Masquerade Ball
Everybody was dressed in the most elaborate clothing any of them had ever seen. This masquerade ball, held in honor of the rising success of the opera, was just as much of a success as the opera itself. Beauty simply radiated throughout the lobby of the opera house as supporters and performers of the Opera Populaire Nouveau danced to soft and elegant music. Every last person had a mask, each one elegantly designed to fit their outfit. The women wore dresses with massive skirts and lace trimming every hem, and the men dressed smartly in their nicest suits. It was the ball of dreams.
Of course, Raphael was still getting ready up in his dormitory. He was wearing a black jacket and pants with a white shirt and a black bow tie. His black dress shoes were shining from polish, and his hair was neatly combed and would look, for once, quite dashing, if it wasn't for the uneven ends. He was currently looking at himself at the mirror, currently wearing no mask. He turned around and looked at his bed, where two masks lay. One was a black mask with gold trim on the edges that would cover the upper half of his face yet, unfortunately wouldn't hide his scar. The other was the mask he had brought from the catacombs under the old opera house. He still felt slightly annoyed at himself that he had even considered wearing that mask for a second. He looked between the two masks and then picked up the Phantom's mask, putting it away in a drawer in his dresser. He then put on the black mask, looking at himself in the mirror. It was a simple yet effective influence to the whole outfit. For a moment he regretted not wearing the Phantom's mask simply because it covered his scar, but quickly dismissed that thought from his head. He walked out the door of his dormitory silently, locking the door behind him.
He walked down the hallway, down one story, and up to Chouet's door. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but wasn't very successful. His heart was beating in his chest quite roughly, and he swore that anybody within ten feet could hear it pounding. He finally, after a moment of standing in front of Chouet's front door, rose up his fist and knocked briskly on the door. After a few moments, the front door opened, and Raphael felt his heart stop.
She looked positively gorgeous that evening. She wore a completely white dress with gold trimming at the bottom of the skirt. Her shoes were just barely visible underneath the skirt, white slippers with gold bows on them. She had a gold bow tying back her long blonde hair, and she wore a beautiful gold necklace with a violet jewel in its pendant, emphasizing the purple hue in her eyes. Her mask was white with a few white jewels on the edge. She was simply radiant, and Raphael was struck dumb for words for a moment.
Luckily for the boy, Chouet spoke first. "…Good evening, Monsieur Giry. How…" She was obviously observing his attire, and was obviously impressed. "How…are you?"
Raphael spoke without really thinking. "Yes, you look beautiful tonight."
Chouet was shocked for a moment, but then smiled. "Shall…we go downstairs?"
"Yes, let's go." Raphael held out his hand to her, and she took it. The two walked down the stairs hand in hand.
They entered the lobby and looked around at the decorations. It was positively splendid looking. The two looked at each other for a while, amidst stares from a few of the other performers. The two walked down the grand marble stairs, smiling at those who were staring at them. Chouet spotted Maria and Desiree, and asked Raphael if she could be excused for a moment. He obliged, and she rushed off to talk to her friends.
Jacques was watching as Raphael Giry and Anna Chouet walked into the lobby. Of course they would be coming together. If the rumors were true, they had quite a fondness for each other already. In truth, Jacques had always had a slight crush on Chouet. She was the only girl that had ever resisted his charming looks and personality, and he thought of her as a sort of challenge, something like if he could get her then he could get anyone. He looked at Raphael for a moment as he walked off to the side of the crowds, his scar perfectly visible. Suddenly, an idea sparked in his brain. He smirked, enjoying his plan already.
The band struck up a waltz, and Raphael blinked. He walked over to Chouet, who was talking to Maria and Desiree earnestly. She stopped talking, turning to Raphael. He could feel his cheeks turning red. "Er…Would you care to dance, Mademoiselle?"
Chouet smiled. "I shall, Monsieur." And with that, Raphael presented his hand to her, and she set her hand in his, and the two walked out onto the dance floor and began a simple waltz.
Raphael and Chouet began to have a conversation, since simply staring at each others eyes was making them both quite flustered. "You know, I didn't always want to be a ballerina," Chouet said to Raphael.
"Really? What did you want to be, then?" Raphael was interested.
Chouet started to blush lightly. "I don't quite know. I just…wanted to marry a man that my father chose and…well…live my life normally." She was slightly flustered, but continued. "My parents made me come here. I came when I was five years old. Within a year, I had decided ballet was what I was born to do. Besides…I didn't want to…"
Raphael continued to look at her. "Didn't want to…whatever did you not want to do?"
Chouet shook her head. "Oh, nothing." She decided to change the subject slightly. "So, what was your life like before you came here? You've never really told me."
Raphael sighed. "It's quite a long story. Are you sure you want me to bore you with it?"
"Nothing you say could be boring, Raphael."
Raphael blushed. "Oh…well, then…you see, my mother, Meg Giry, performed in the Opera Populaire a long time ago. She met my father at some party, and discovered that she was to marry him, that it had been decided by my grandmother and grandfather that he was to be her husband. So, they wed. I was conceived not long after. But then, my father…well, he changed when I was born. My mother wanted to care for me instead of him. So, he started to beat her. She eventually left us. I was about ten."
Chouet was listening. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is she all right?"
Raphael shrugged. "I have no idea. I haven't seen her since then. I've decided that one day, when I've earned enough money from this opera house I'll go and find her. Well, after my mother left, my father decided to beat me instead. That's how I got this horrible scar. I ran away just like my mother. Thank goodness he never found me. I was probably about twelve when I left him, and it only took me a day to get here."
Chouet watched him inquisitively. "Why did you choose to come here?"
It didn't take him long to respond. "Simple. I had always dreamed of being in the opera. And…well, I went to one of the performances once, with my mother. I caught a glimpse of a beautiful girl, dancing on the stage. I wanted to see her again…"
Chouet continued to watch him, not realizing who he was talking about. "Did you ever see her again?"
Raphael was blushing now. "Well…yes, I did."
They were both looking at each other now, their waltz starting to fall behind the beat. "Who…is she? Anybody I know?"
Raphael looked at her, deep into her beautiful dark violet eyes… "Chouet…Anna…" Chouet knew just because he had used her first name that whatever he was about to say would be important. "That girl…was –"
"Mind if I cut in?" A snide voice broke their peace. They both looked at the person who had spoken to find Jacques.
Raphael blinked. "Excuse me?"
Jacques seemed to be holding in a smirk. "May I dance with the lovely Mademoiselle?"
Raphael looked at Chouet, and she nodded meekly. He looked back at Jacques. "I suppose so…" Chouet and Raphael let go of each other's hands unwillingly, and Raphael walked away to the side as Jacques began to dance with Chouet.
Jacques was looking at Chouet. "You're quite a beautiful young lady. Did you know that?"
Chouet didn't seem to warm up to Jacques at all. "Thank you, Monsieur." She spoke curtly.
Jacques continued to dance with her. After a moment, he spoke again. "You shouldn't associate yourself with someone like him. It's bad for your career."
Chouet looked up at Jacques suddenly, her eyes having trailed to the ground. "Excuse me, Monsieur?"
Jacques simply watched her every move. "It's not very wise to be seen with people like…like that phantom…"
Chouet wrenched herself away from him suddenly, her eyes wide with shock. "I beg your pardon, Monsieur!" She marched away from him, her face red. Jacques watched her walk away. Unfortunately, that hadn't worked as he had hoped…ah, well. No matter. She would learn soon enough…
Chouet marched over to Raphael, her face red. Upon first glance, it seemed her face was flushed with anger, but Raphael could see immediately that she was crying. He took her hand, and began walking her out of the ballroom, talking to her as they hurried out.
"Chouet, what's the matter? What did he do to you?"
Chouet shook her head. "Oh, Raphael…he didn't do anything…"
"What did he say? If he said anything to harm you…"
Chouet was still shaking her head. Raphael shut the door, not caring that they were now in an empty broom closet. "He…oh, Raphael, I don't understand what he meant by saying it, but it was so cruel…"
Raphael let go of her hand. "That monster!" He then looked at her straight in the eye. "What did he say to you, Chouet?"
Chouet shook her head. "Oh, if I told you, it would anger you so…"
Raphael was persistent. "Did he call you a foul name? What did he say?"
Chouet shook her head still. "No…he called you…'that phantom'."
Raphael froze. There was complete silence. Chouet looked up, confused. "Raphael…what's the matter?"
Raphael was still silent. Then, he spoke, slowly. "Well…I'm just slightly surprised that he compared me to…him…"
"You aren't angry? I thought you told me he was a monster, a murderer…Raphael, I'm confused…"
Raphael thought for a moment. He couldn't hold it off any longer. He spoke with difficulty. "Chouet…that night…when Jacques told you about the Phantom…when I told you about the Phantom…"
Chouet was immediately interested. What had happened that night? It was possible that she was the first person to discover…
Raphael continued, no longer holding back. "I went to the old opera house. And I…I found where he lived. I was there, Chouet! There were candles everywhere, and there were broken mirrors. I found his mask, Chouet! It only covers half of the face: the left side. Remember the stories? He must have had some defect on the left side of his face, and the mask hid it. I even found the opera he wrote, the opera they performed that night of the disaster. And it's a work of art! It could have been written by a genius, Chouet…a genius…"
Chouet was slowly backing away from him. "…Genius?"
But she was unheard as Raphael continued. "And his mask! I don't know why, but I tried it on. And it fit me, Chouet…by some odd twist of fate, I found that mask, and it covers my scar! Chouet…"
Chouet couldn't take it anymore. "You…tried on…his mask…? Genius..? Raphael…I…" She suddenly opened up the door of the broom closet and rushed out, her composure straight.
Raphael blinked, and then began going after her. "Chouet…wait…wait!"
But she got away from him. She suddenly slipped into the crowds and, try as he did, Raphael couldn't find her. He spent the rest of the night standing to the side, and the next time he saw Chouet, she was dancing with Jacques, her eyes avoiding Raphael's.
Next Chapter: The Phantom
Chouet was crying freely now. "I can't believe you actually respect him! You told me he was a monster! Now…you think he's a genius! He was a murderer, Raphael! He was a man of death. And I cannot love a man who loves death." There was silence during which Raphael stared at her, stunned. She took a deep breath. "Please let go."
