Chapter Seventeen - Another Cautious Glance
For days, talk of Buquet's death filled the Opera Populaire.
No one was sure if it had been an accident…Buquet's drinking had, from time to time, caused minor problems.
Or was it a suicide? Such things were known to happen…only the previous year, one of the younger carpenters had taken arsenic in the prop room after being jilted by a pretty seamstress.
Or was he murdered? If he was, well, then surely the Opera Ghost had a hand in the crime!
But as the shock wore off, the unpopular scene-shifter was buried and forgotten. The ballet girls, especially, breathed easier now that he was no longer lurking in the halls near their dressing rooms and dormitories.
The Opera Ghost seemed less real, less of a threat, than Buquet and his wandering hands.
Two mornings after the disaster of Il Muto, Meg was surprised when Christine shook her awake.
"Meg, will you come with me to the café today? I've already asked your Maman and she says we may go."
Meg was usually the one to suggest such an outing, dragging the quieter Christine along in her wake.
The two young women rarely ventured out of the theatre; apart from afternoons in the café, strolls in the Bois with Madame Giry and the rest of the corps de ballet, or the occasional visit to the cemetery where both girl's fathers were buried, they knew very little of the world beyond the Opera Populaire
"Of course, I will," Meg answered, scrambling out of bed.
"Meg, I have something to tell you," Christine whispered. She was smiling, but Meg couldn't help noticing the wary glance around the room.
Nevertheless, both young women were lighthearted as they dressed in their best frocks, Christine in dark blue and Meg in deep rose.
As they crossed the Place de'Opera to the café, the pretty pair received more than their share of admiring glances from passing men.
Instead of their favorite table which looked out onto the crowded boulevard, Christine led Meg to a smaller, quieter corner of the restaurant.
They ordered café au lait and tarts, Meg chose lemon, Christine still had her childhood fondness for chocolate.
A half hour passed in idle gossip before Christine suddenly leaned across the table and took her friend's hand.
"Meg, you must swear to me…you must promise you will not tell anyone. Not even your Maman."
"Christine, what is this all about? What has happened?"
Christine squeezed her hand gently.
"Raoul has asked me to marry him."
With another cautious glance over her shoulders, Christine drew a chain from the bodice of her dress. A large diamond sparked and flashed in the dim café.
Even as she smiled at Christine, another feeling overwhelmed Meg's happiness for her friend.
She felt her heart tightening with pity. Not fear, but pity for the man who loved Christine…the man forced to live as a Ghost.
