3. A Warning
Christine awoke to rays of golden sunshine spilling across her pillow and the cheerful sounds of birds singing in the gardens below. She raised her head slightly, remembering where she was, and then reached for the white satin robe hanging by the bed. She wrapped it securely around herself and stepped out onto her balcony, taking in the warmth of the spring breeze. Below her in the gardens, she could see Madame Valerius, resplendent this morning in an exquisite gown of the palest mauve, strolling leisurely among the rose bushes. Christine withdrew quickly back into her room, realizing she must have overslept. She dressed hurriedly, with the help of the young maid, and made her way downstairs and through the open French doors into the gardens.
"There you are, my dear. I've taken the liberty of having a late brunch prepared for us. I thought perhaps you might need your rest this morning." Madame Valerius' tone was kind, and held no trace of reproof for Christine's late arrival. She motioned for Christine to join her at the elegantly laid table. Christine smiled gratefully and seated herself, looking with interest at the fresh fruits and delicate pastries before her. She realized she was, in fact, extremely hungry.
"Help yourself, my darling, and then when you are finished, we will have a lovely stroll through the gardens. You see, of all the things I possess my gardens are my greatest pride and joy. I may not be able to make the music of heaven, which seemed to come so easily for you and your father, but I am apparently very gifted in the proper instruction of one's gardening staff." Madame Valerius gave Christine a warm smile, with a faint trace of self-mockery. She glanced with concern at the small amount of food on Christine's plate. "Come now, my child, you really must eat something. I cannot remember ever seeing you so thin and pale. We really must get you back in proper health."
Christine ate obligingly, enjoying the wonderful food and Madame Valerius's pleasant conversation. It was almost as if the past few years had never happened, and she was a little girl again enjoying a grown-up tea with the woman who had always been so kind to her and her father. As they began their walk, however, Christine's mind drifted back to the events of the past night. Her hostess continued her bright chatter, to which Christine nodded politely, but she found it difficult to still her disquieted mind. Sensing her restlessness, Madame Valerius guided her at last to a bench in the shade of a magnificently flowered cherry tree.
"Now, ma chère, we can talk about more important things." Her voice softened as she took Christine's hand in her own, "You are suffering, Christine. I can see it quite clearly. And the kind of pain I see in your eyes...there can be only one source of such pain, and that is love. Since it seems quite obvious that the young vicomte would gladly return your love if it was offered, it seems there must be more to the puzzle. Another man, no?"
Christine's eyes widened at the woman's perceptiveness, but with her secret revealed, her tightly-held composure broke free. She had never known her own mother, and this gentle woman was the closest thing she had ever had. Her tears flowed freely as she released her burden at last. Without reserve she told Madame Valerius of her Angel of Music, and of Raoul, of her betrayal, and the horrible night beneath the Opera Populaire.
With her shameful story told, Christine could not bring herself to meet the older woman's sympathetic eyes. "I am sure you must think me awful - an unimaginable fool, an ungrateful wretch, a seductress, a manipulator callously toying with the hearts of men. I have been all of those things. I cannot deny a single one. And yet in my defense, all of those things I was unknowingly. So perhaps of all my titles, 'fool' is the most deserved." She wrung her hands helplessly, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.
Madame Valerius gently took the girl's chin in her hand, and raised the fragile tear-stained face to meet her eyes. "My darling, you are none of those things. Your only sin is in perhaps not knowing your own heart. No, I do not blame you. I do, however, blame these two foolish young men who declare their undying love, and yet twist you into knots trying to please and protect them both."
She sighed, and in a softer tone continued, "I understand your position, perhaps better than I am at liberty to explain. And I can tell you this with certainty. Before you pledge your heart once and for all to either man, take the time to explore all that lies inside of it. If you do not, there will be nothing but more pain and suffering for all of you, no matter how noble your intentions." Tears welled in her brilliant blue eyes, and she hurriedly turned her face away.
Christine mentally scolded herself for upsetting her kind hostess, and hurried to put the older woman's mind at ease. "I apologize for my outburst, Madame Valerius. I really don't know what came over me. All has ended well. Raoul and I will be married soon and the Phantom has left our lives forever. There really is no choice to be made." Her voice sounded far more confident than she felt and she smiled bravely, but her brown eyes as always told the truth of her plight.
Madame Valerius turned to look once more at the confused, vulnerable young woman before her, trying so desperately to battle her own heart. Watching Christine in her anguish, she resolved that she would not allow this young lady to suffer as she herself had suffered. No, whatever the consequences, Christine Daae could not marry anyone until she herself knew what and who she truly wanted.
With only compassion in her eyes, she spoke again, "Christine, my dear, I say this not to chastise you, nor because I doubt your honor. But I do not believe you are being honest with me or with yourself. Until you truly allow yourself to recognize and accept your feelings for both of these men, even those feelings that are inconvenient or shameful to you, you will not be capable of truly making a choice, but only of giving your soul and mind to one man and your heart and body to the other. Not only will you succeed in ruining both of these men whom you care for, but you will bring upon your own soul a torture you could never have imagined." Though her tone was gentle, her eyes sought Christine's with an intensity, a seriousness, compelling her to heed the warning that she somehow knew would be disregarded.
With an overly bright smile she stood abruptly. "Come dear, the hour is growing late, and we will have more time to visit tomorrow. Let's go see how lunch is coming, shall we?" She reached for Christine's arm and tucked it gently under hers, as they walked back toward the house. "And by the way, do please call me Elsa. I grow so tired of hearing myself called 'Madame' all the time. It makes me sound the old widow I truly am!"
As they walked back into the house, Christine considered their conversation. In truth, she felt much better after having had the opportunity to talk freely about the trials of the last few months. However, she found Elsa's last words to be something of a puzzle to her. Somehow, this lonely widow seemed to know her position almost too well, and this fact both comforted and disconcerted her. She felt as if Elsa knew something of her own soul that she herself was not ready to reveal.