Chapter 3: My Triumph

Below, far below the Opera Populaire, a man darted from the now-broken stained glass panel where he was hiding. A swish of a tattered cloak concealed him from the light streaming in from a hole somewhere above. The man quickly made his way down even farther below, to the once magnificent catacombs. Impatient, he leapt into a waiting gondola and used to oar to push the boat through the dark waters. He ignored the relics in the walls as he moved faster than he had in years towards the damned lair hidden deep within the catacombs. As he entered, a portcullis closed behind him and he continued to propel the boat towards the deck. Unable to contain his excitement any longer, he threw himself over the edge of the gondola and waded to the stairs leading to his lair.

Flinging the tattered and torn cloak aside, the man took a seat at his organ and excitedly began playing. As his little, dirty fingers caressed the dusty keys, years of pain and despair seemed to lift from the man's scarred face. Life came back to his saddened eyes, a smile to his roughened lips. A pleased sigh escaped his mouth.

"She's come back to me – my Angel of Music……. Christine…" A sweet melody, new to the depths, played out on the organ as he poured out his joy at what he thought was the return of this only love he had ever known. As he played the last note, he rose and ran across the lair to find the wax replica of Christine Daae. A tear of happiness found its way down his deformed cheek as his hand brushed the cheek of the model. He gazed into the eyes of the girl who had once loved him and imagined the wonders he would show her after he once again found her… But wait – that would mean she would have to see him and his lair…. The man looked first at his lair and then at himself in the broken mirror. He finally realized how filthy he had become after two years of depression, and how disposing the lair now was after two years of neglect. Rats had even stopped coming through the portcullis after the man stopped eating enough to leave crumbs sufficient to feed the rats' colony. Shattered glass still littered one side of the the lair, the bed had not been made in years. Pools of wax adorned every surface which once held candles that had not been renewed since they had burned themselves to extinction. Dirt and dust had accumulated not only in every corner, but also on nearly every surface.

As for the man himself – he was extremely gaunt from the lack of adequate diet. His raven hair had grown long, and was greasy and dirty from years without wash. His clothes were torn and he had not changed them since the night Christine had left him. After a moment of consideration, the man began to dart about the place, cleaning, discarding, and straightening. He replaced the candles, swept away the glass, and up righted things which had been thrown or knocked over in his rage. Gathering papers and cloth from the water surrounding the dock, he saw a strange object floating, and stooped to pick it up. A familiar length of rope now lie in his hands – rope twisted and tied into… "The Punjab lasso…" whispered the man. He regarded it silently for a moment. "It – and its kind – must never be used in this opera house again. This is what drove Christine away..." Opening the portcullis, he flung the rope far from his lair, assuming that it would shortly meet its watery grave.

…

The young woman's face quickly turned a furious shade of red. She moved back downstage, all smiles, and gave a graceful curtsey to the crowd which was pouring into the auditorium. The redhead rushed up onto the stage and took the young woman's hand.

"M. Andre says he wants to cast you! However…. No one seems to know your name." The young woman, startled, glanced at Andre, who was simultaneously smiling, nodding, and clapping. M. Firmin took his accustomed place next to Andre and applauded, shouting "Brava! Brava! Bellisima! Encore!" The young woman turned back to the redhead.

"My name……is Ludavine Juliette, but …..Pardon me for asking, but what am I to be cast for, ma'am?" The redhead laughed. "Please, don't call me ma'am. I'm just a chorus girl and ballet rat. My name is Kathleen, but mostly everyone calls me Kathy. And…"she looked incredulously at Ludivine, "You truly don't know what part M. Andre wants you to fulfill?" Ludivine shook her head, completely oblivious to Kathy's hinting. Kathy never got the chance to tell Ludivine the role she was to be assigned to, for at that moment, a crowd member stepped forward, applauding madly. He was a prominent member of society, wealthy, and a former patron of the Opera Populaire.

"Brava! Prima Donna, Brava!" He cheered, directing it toward Ludivine. She paled, even further and her eyes widened as she realized, finally, the position which she had auditioned for. As the shock wore off, color came back into her cheeks. Kathy took Ludivine in an embrace.

"Congratulations!" she whispered as Ludivine looked at the crowd and smiled. "Now go give them a bow!" Kathy gently pushed Ludivine forward; Ludivine took several steps toward the edge of the stage, slowly, and very gracefully. She took the corners of her simple black dress in her fingers and gave the audience a deep beautiful curtsey.

…

As the man cleaned the inner recesses of his lair, he uncovered, still folded and neatly placed upon a chest, a dress. This simple item brought tears to his eyes as he picked it up and gently brushed the accumulated dust from the fabric. His long pianist's fingers danced gently over the black material, the white linen… they found the red fabric rose tucked inside the folds. Holding it a moment longer, he reminisced.

"Aminita's costume…" and he unfolded it with a snap. His eyes glittering with anticipation,"…Christine will want this returned to her…"

A/N: YAY! REVEWS! SO, reply I shall...

Maska: Yep, I like cliffhangers. I AM EVIL CLIFFHANGER AUTHOR! FEEL MY MIGHT!

romawriter: Here ya go!

Ludivinelover: MUFFINS!

Thanks to all!