3.) As a Candle to the Sun
As Christine gracefully made her way down the grand staircase, her confidence wavered. What if he did not come? She pretended not to notice the whispers of the Paris socialites as she entered, and ignored completely the admiring glances of the gentlemen present. Her dark eyes scanned the room quickly, her impatience barely concealed. She only wished to feel one man's admiring eyes upon her this night, and those eyes she knew she would recognize in an instant. The eyes she longed to see were a haunting blue-gray and would be filled with adoration and sadness.
She scolded herself inwardly for her childish impatience. Of course he would not be here making small talk amongst the other guests. He was a wanted man. The thought of him being captured should have struck fear in her heart, and yet a part of her still believed he could never be captured - his genius and power too great to be thwarted by normal men. No, she need only wait she assured herself. He would find her here. He, who knew her better than she knew herself. They were inexplicably bound somehow, in tune to each other in a way she could never fully explain. He would sense somehow that she had chosen him, once and for all, and would come to claim at last that which had always been his. The thought sent a delicious shiver through her body.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was instantly accosted by a throng of hopeful young men and a gaggle of elegantly dressed old busybodies asking her shrewdly when she and the viscount would be formally announcing their engagement. When she had first arrived at the de Chagny mansion, Christine would have withered under their scrutiny, stammering a response then quickly excusing herself to hide herself behind Raoul's familiar and reassuring arm. But she had grown stronger over these past months, gradually gathering the strength she would need to free herself from this gilded prison and enter a new life that she knew would be the most challenging, dangerous, passionate, and rewarding experience she had ever known. Now, she was the very image of charm and self assurance, as she expertly extricated herself from the unwanted attention.
As she gratefully accepted the champagne flute offered to her by one of the servers, she noticed Raoul across the room. Handsome and charming as ever, he stood with a group of important looking gentlemen talking the usual talk of business and politics. She felt an undeniable pang of guilt as he turned, and upon catching her gaze offered a gentle smile. She did love Raoul, she thought, running her finger around the rim of her glass, but it was a different kind of love. It was a sweet, deep fondness for a man, who outside of his recent romantic interest in her, had always been as a beloved brother. At first, in the wake of the Phantom's vengeful madness, she had truly believed that her fondness for Raoul could deepen and become the kind of love that he wished for it to be. He was obviously the safe choice - loving and devoted, handsome and wealthy, a man of polite society and good manners. And yet, long before Raoul had returned to her life, a different feeling for another had been building to a terrifying crescendo within her heart.
A feeling that was both exquisitely gentle and yet recklessly passionate, fearfully dark and yet shining with a glory and purity she could never have imagined. And that feeling had been utterly frightening in its intensity, so much so that she in her youth and inexperience had mistook it for something evil, when she now knew it to be the deepest kind of soulful union - a kind of emotion to which all others paled in comparison, like the glow of a candle to the radiance of the Sun.
Raoul would come to understand, she thought as she watched him from across the room. Part of him, she was sure, already knew she was lost to him. There was a sadness in his eyes now when he looked at her, a wistfulness. She had no doubt he would let her go if she asked it, for he would deny her nothing. And Raoul would recover, of this she was certain. He had his family, his friends. There would be other women who would spark his interest in time. For the man whom she awaited, there would be no other, just as there could be no other for her. After all, she thought with a smile, what glow of a candle could compare to the radiance of the Sun?