Meg Giry smiled bitterly as the audience clapped once more for her good friend Christine. Just as every other regular performer in the opera, Meg hoped to snag the lead role someday. As for now, her talents were unnoticed. She could speak fluent French, why not? And her Pointe work, in her mother, Madame Giry 's eyes , was one of the best. An absolute angel, someone once called her. Plus her voice rang out beautifully; it was just as captivating as Christine's, if not more. As she whirled, she accidentally hit a figure. Oh… it was Raoul, Christine's childhood sweetheart. 'Hello, Meg,' he greeted crisply, bowing once. 'Hello.' She allowed herself to grin weakly although inside, her heart was crying tears of bitterness and envy. Christine Daae had everything. As a petite figure wedged its way to Raoul, Meg felt another tinge of jealousy. 'Ah, here's my Little Lotte,' chuckled Raoul, embracing Christine, whose brown curls made her glowing cheeks look more radiant than Meg's baby pink ones.
Meg hugged herself tightly and thought about what Christine had confided in her that day, in that room where she would always sing and pray. 'The angel of music,' Christine had whispered. Meg loved the sound of it. She yearned to hear his melodious voice, singing her a lullaby before she blew out the candle and slept. 'Meg Giry, the sweet- looking angel…' a deep, rich, voice sang out, causing Meg to turn to her right and stare at the mirror. She gasped. A hooded figure… the angel? No, it had to be imaginary. She shook her head and shut her eyes once more. But it seemed that all noght, she heard a sweet melody, and she hummed it to herself…' Meg Giry….'