5.) Night's Music Reborn
Christine could bear to wait no longer. She began to sing without accompaniment. Her voice was as clear and pure as ever, with her beloved teacher so near, and there was a richness and longing to it that could leave no question of her sincerity. As the man in the shadows turned, determined to give her up once and for all, the riveting sound of an angel's voice met his highly attuned ears, stopping him in his tracks. He was still helpless to resist that voice, just as she had once been helpless to resist his own. He stepped back to where he had been standing only a moment before and closed his eyes, turning his face to the sound, like a flower turning its face to the sunlight.
At first he felt only the magic of her voice like a warm salve healing his wounded soul, and he stood drinking in the sound like a man dying of thirst for it. All at once, he began to recognize the melody, hear the words. As understanding dawned, he stood disbelieving. The silver threads of her voice suddenly seemed directed straight to him as if they were the only two people in the world at that moment.
"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams!
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!
Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar,
And you'll live as you never lived before..."
His song. The song that only she had ever heard. The song that he had sung once before begging her to share in his world. Only now, the roles seemed reversed. Unless his ears and mind deceived him, it was now her begging to return to that world, to him. He stood dumbstruck, rooted to the spot, listening as if his very life depended upon it.
"Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world!
Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before.
Let your soul take you where you long to be!
Only then, can you belong to me..."
The crowd inside had stilled. No one spoke, nor moved. All eyes rested on the tiny soprano on stage, singing such a hauntingly beautiful song with such passion and desperation in a voice sent from heaven. No one dared to break her spell. No one desired to. Only one man inside the room knew the origin of that haunting song. And one man outside it. Both, stood riveted now with tears streaming down their cheeks.
"Floating, foaming, sweet intoxication...
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation...
Let the dream begin,
Let your darker side give in
to the power of the music that you write –
the power of the music of the night...
She was singing to him. He knew it now. This was her decision! He tore himself away from the intoxicating sound of her voice and disappeared into the night once again.
Inside, Christine was losing hope. She had been so sure that when he heard her sing his song, to him, he would understand, he would come, all would be made right. She had put her heart and soul into his song, and the effort had taken its toll. She sank to her knees in exhaustion and despair, clouds of red silk spilling around her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, as she sang in quiet desperation, her voice now sounding small and helpless:
"You alone can make my song take flight –
Please help me make the music of the night.."
The last words came out as a plea, and she fell forward sobbing. Her agony was to be short-lived, however, for suddenly she heard the curious sound of approaching hoof beats. She lifted her tear-stained face wretchedly, and despite herself, allowed her brown eyes to travel with a tiny glimmer of hope to the French doors. The crowd around her let out a collective gasp and backed to the far corners of the room as a magnificent black stallion leapt up the stairs from the garden and plunged through the open doors right into the elegant ball room, coming to an abrupt halt just before Christine. Even more surprising to the crowd was the rider, dressed elegantly in black from head to toe, and masked, but perhaps most surprising of all, wearing a look of hardly contained joy and obvious love as he gazed softly at the broken figure on the floor before him. Slowly, her face turned up to him, as if afraid he might not be real, then a breathtaking smile broke across her lovely face and she stood. He held out his hand to her, and as she took it, both closed their eyes with a look of utter contentment upon their faces, as if in that simple touch, both had been made whole. It was evident to all who saw, including the young viscount watching broken-heartedly from the corner, that these two people could never be complete without one another.
As the elegant figure in black swung her easily onto the back of the beautiful animal, Christine whispered playfully into his ear, "You, sir are late!" With his crooked, roguish, half smile, he answered back, "I do apologize, my dear, but you know how I love to make an entrance." With that, he turned the stallion in one deft motion and all three disappeared into the awaiting night, in a swirl of ebony and scarlet.