The Masked Ball
"Ms. Daae!" the young man cried out, "Christine!"
Christine whirled around and stared into the face of a man whom she knew for so long. That face was different now, but the eyes were just as bright. His dark locks of hair were wild and uncombed, and a small moustache resided above his upper lip. This was Raoul, all grown up.
"I am sorry, Monsieur, but I do not know you." her mouth whispered before she knew what was said. Raoul was startled. The moment he saw her, the moment he heard her voice, he had completely forgot all his worries and the reason for his coming. He was so overjoyed to see her, and now she was saying she did not know him. This seemed equivalent to getting a violent slap across one's face.
"But you… you must remember me!" Raoul uttered, "I am the little boy from the sea!" Christine hid a smile. Yes, she remembered the little boy who rescued her scarf all too well. But she didn't show it. She didn't dare to for fear that her Angel will find out. He was very strict.
"I am truly sorry, Monsieur." And she was.
"But, Christine, I am Raoul, don't you remember?"
Yes
"No, Monsieur, I do not know anyone by that name."
Raoul was devastated. All that and for nothing. He had pledged his patronage to the Opera, he was all set to go down to the darkest hell for her, he was ready to take her in his arms and embrace her and confess his feelings for her, and she told him she didn't know him. Oh, what a blow to his heart!
"Well, I guess that's that." Raoul finally said after composing himself. Christine nodded. He took one last longing look at her beautiful face and left the room.
Christine collapsed into a chair. She saw the hurt in his eyes, heard the pain in his voice, but she couldn't help it. Her eyes welled up with tears and a single escapee rolled down her cheek.
"Angel?" she called again. There was no response. Did he leave her? Did he know about Raoul? Did he think she had abandoned him? Christine's heart trembled with fear. What will she do now? How can she go on without her Angel? The sheer misery overwhelmed her, the dams broke down and the tears flowed freely.
Raoul leaned against the wall, his hand clutching at his heart. This was the worst blow of all. She did remember him, he realized, she only pretended. He also realized that she had denied him for someone else, someone who didn't even exist, and someone who was part of an old tale. How cruel! How heartless! And he thought her to be innocent.
Raoul recollected his wits and briskly walked away from Christine's room and the lies. When he got home, his brother was there to meet him at the door, all grins and winks.
"So, dear brother, did you find your lady?" Raoul only stared at his brother.
"No," he replied icily, "I only found a cold statue of her resemblance."
Philippe was taken aback by Raoul's moodiness. He was usually quiet and shy, and here he was, clearly displaying his anger. Something must have transpired between the two to cause such a display. Though before he could inquire further, Raoul disappeared up the steps and behind his door. How very strange.
Christine wiped away the tears and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy and her face was red. She went to a basin of water and dipped her hands into it. The water was fresh and cool and very inviting. She washed her face and combed her hair. Then she put on a clean dress and prepared to go out. It was an early fall morning and a perfect day to visit the streets of Paris. Perhaps she can even visit her father's grave. Christine put on a cloak, took one last look at her face (since there was not way of hiding the mark above her brow, she lowered the hood until it covered half of her face), and proceeded on her way outside.
The morning air was crisp and Christine felt immediately better upon inhaling a lungful. She had not realized how stale the air was inside the Opera House. The fresh air cleared her mind of all thought and for the first time in many days, Christine smiled. She spread out her arms, turned her face skyward, and laughed out loud. She didn't care if people stared, she finally felt free, her soul, at this moment, was soaring high above the clouds. This was the greatest feeling on earth.
A small figure suddenly rushed past her. Christine glanced behind her and saw Meg's retreating back. Christine called out, but Meg kept on going so she decided to go after her.
"Meg!" Christine called again as soon as she was close. Meg jumped and quickly turned around, fear written all over her face. She was clutching a dress to her chest.
"Oh, Christine, it's only you. I feared it was my mother." Then Meg paused. It's only you… And then-
"Oh, Christine!" Meg exclaimed. "Oh…oh! I didn't know you were back! When did He return you?"
"He? Meg, what are you talking about? And where did you get that dress?"
Meg looked down at her possession and quickly tried to hide it, but in vain.
"Oh, Christine, promise me you won't tell? Promise?" Meg pleaded.
Christine raised her hand in mock-pledge and promised to keep the secret.
"Well, it's my dress for the masked ball."
"Masked ball?"
"Yes, you see, my mother said I have to wear something I already have and that there is just no point in spending any more money on a new dress. But, oh, I so wished to have a new one so I… Well, you know the rest." This was all expelled with such speed that only now did Meg paused and took a breath. Christine blinked.
"What is all this about a Masked ball?" she asked Meg who was looking around nervously.
"It's just a party MM Andre and Firmin are throwing for the new patrons."
"The new patrons?"
"Oh, you didn't hear? We have new patrons. We are rich now and can perform the most glorious operas!"
"But who, Meg, who?"
"The Chagnys." Meg replied. All air was gone from Christine's lungs. The Chagnys? Raoul and Philippe? This was unexpected. That was why Raoul came to visit her, she thought, to tell her about this. And she had turned him away so coldly. How awful.
"When is it, Meg?"
"Today, tonight. You should come, it will be splendid! There will be so many people! Oh, but I must go now, Christine! Before someone finds me with this!" and she rushed off.
Christine stood in the middle of the street, confused. Yes, she will go to the party and she will apologize to Raoul. Well, so much for going on a walk.
It was the most splendid sight that she had ever seen. The costumes were amazing and exiting, and everyone was different. Christine looked around the room to find Meg, and spotted her right away in Sorelli's group. She looked very pretty in her new dress with her hair all done up. Christine looked down at her own costume. It was a simple domino that she found in the costume room. Mme Giry said she could borrow it since Meg was not going to wear it because she had bought herself a new dress. Christine smiled. There was just no way in hiding anything from the ballet teacher.
A gentleman came up to her and asked her if she wanted to dance. Christine politely refused and went looking for Raoul. He was the sole person to whom she wanted to talk right now. A bright red costume flashed in the corner of her eye. She turned around to see who it was. It was a tall man, dressed in a red suit with a red cape. On the back of it, it said "DO NOT TOUCH ME, FOR I AM THE RED DEATH, STALKING ABROAD" in gold letters. Christine shuddered. What a gruesome costume. The Death looked right at her and smiled. Or rather grinned in a grotesque way. A shiver ran down her spine and Christine turned away from the man in search of Raoul. He was no where in sight. A slight tap on her shoulder brought her face to face once again with the Death.
"Will you dance, mademoiselle?" it asked in quiet and beautiful voice. Christine mouth dropped a few inches. This man, this thing, was asking her to dance with him. She didn't know what to say. Somehow, though, refusing was not an option. Without waiting for the response, the man took her hand in his, which was deathly cold, and led her to the dance floor. Christine's mind went blank after that point. Every noise around her was a blur, every word was slurred. Then, out of the blue, came his voice, the man's voice, as clear as a bell.
"Do you love me, Christine?" Christine wanted to break away at that moment, but couldn't, the man's grip was hard, yet gentler than the mother doe's. She pretended not to hear the question. This man who was a total stranger to her, to ask such a thing! In the next whirl of the waltz, her eyes fell upon Raoul's, and his were filled with jealously, contempt and rejection. Christine felt like she would die of shame. Meg's face floated by, happy and worry-free, other face swum by, spinning faster and faster. And faster still! Soon, the ball room was nothing but a colourful blur, another world spinning by. Christine tried to plead for the man to stop, but the words were lodged in her throat, unable to come out. Please let it stop! her mind shouted. Let it stop! She shut her eyes tight to close out the blurriness which was making her sick, but her head was spinning out of control. Surely she cannot die this way. Who was this man! Oh the torture! And then her mind went blank and she went limp in His arms.
