Authorette's note: Bonjour good readers, the story is back and with it comes the events of the masquerde …… And yes, I am obviously mentally impaired as the masquerade is still on the 31st October, not the date mentioned in chapter the last…… The managers mentioned in this chapter (Richard and Moncharmin) are the managers featured in the Leroux novel. Thanks again to my shiny reviewers and to all those shiny un-reviewing readers: Make a lonely old lady very happy, give her some flowers. But in the mean time give this sulky teenager's phic a review!

This chapter is dedicated to Jess, who listened to me ramble and read my rambling with out yawning once or making excuses to scurry off, as I would have been tempted to do in your position! Go you!

His blindness was lifted…

1870, October 31st

The dancing continued for what seemed like an eternity of sadistic mockery inflicted on me by some higher being. Pay back for what I did to Buquet perhaps? That was the only reason I could think of as to why I was forced to watch my Christine being held in the arms of that ignorant fool, whilst they gracefully spun across the floor, being admired and commented upon by other nobles that had attended the celebration. Though I could hardly say that all the comments that fell upon my ears were in favour of the couple in question.

For you see, Parisian high society is a strange thing. A man of good breeding may have as many mistresses as he pleases, all of poor background if that's what he should choose. This relationship, will of course be public knowledge, but so long as it is treated like a great secret, the man may continue his affair and remain with his good reputation intact. However, should a man have a good, morale, legally binding, relationship with a girl of a lesser background than himself, out would come those sharpened claws of Parisian socialites, ready to rip the man and his wife to shreds. This is why it surprised me that Raoul had allowed himself to be seen so publicly with a mere ex-chorus girl. But then on the other hand, they didn't appear to even be engaged, so perhaps he would only be slightly cut, rather than brutally stabbed by those gossip lover's blades.

At last, everything had fallen into place. Carlotta was at the foot of the steps on the right hand side, with her hands wrapped around Piangi's fat neck, reminding me of a picture I had seen, depicting a boa constrictor strangling it's prey. Funny, I heard that she'd once been such a dainty, pretty little thing with all the grace of a swan and the charm of a geisha. I half heartedly wondered if, left as a diva, Christine would become as irritable. As for Piangi, well he was a paid tenor, one would never expect him to be as skeletal as I surely! On the left hand side of the stair case, there was those two inept dunces who happened to run my theatre; Mousiers Richard and Moncahrmin, who were waltzing with some reasonably attractive chorus girls who were most certainly not their wives. Not that this was any concern of mine, all that mattered was these all stayed by the staircase.

Finally Christine came spinning in that debonair's almost lady-like arms. The sight made me feel overwhelmingly sick, but I suppressed the feeling, for it was time for the plan to take shape. I stood as upright as I could, straightened my suit and adjusted my cloak. I then silently released the trap door, and putting my acrobatic skills into practise, landed on my feet, as gracefully and perfectly as a feline.

People can be so wrapped up in their own, insignificant affairs that they are unable to notice what occurrences are taking place around them. At the time when I had resigned my post as travelling corpse and had to make my own way in life, I quickly discovered this, and made a good deal of money in the form stolen wallets from it too. However, I have changed a lot since those days of petty theft and despise being ignored when I seek attention; so you can imagine how vexed I was when it took more than the fewer moments I had expected for the entire attention of the ballroom to be turned onto me.

Finally all the eyes in the room where fixed firmly upon my carefully concealed face and I felt a sudden pang of nerves run through me. There was a time when I was accustomed to strangers gawping at me every night, laughing like lunatics, spitting and snarling like feral dogs, him, that evil bastard smirking as though the tavern was giving away free bottles of gin… The room seemed to swirl and I wanted to run and hide back in the safety and solitude of my underground lair, away from all these starring faces. But something stopped me, a new though came to my mind. For I realised that I was no longer the attraction, they were. Yes, I was the master now and they performed for me, they did as I pleased, they were mine to smirk and laugh at. Certainly not the other way around. I felt a soft smile spread across my disgusting face and I slowly descended the grand staircase, whilst my magnificent voice filled the hall, powerful and dominating.

"Fondest greeting good Mousiers, Madams and indeed Mamouselles, and may I bid you a warm welcome to my opera house and thank you for attending my little soiree!" I now paused for effect and stood still, my back perfectly straight and a welcoming smile upon my face, though no one could possibly see that.. I stole a brief glance at the astonished expressions on the faces that surrounded me, but resisting the almost overpowering temptation to seek out my angel, for I knew if I saw her again, my mind would be lead me straight to her and my plan would fall to taters. Self control is one of the hardest things to conquer and I sometimes no trance of it could be found in my body. However on this occasion it was thankfully present, but had it not been, my life would still be a meaningless mess with no direction and no hope of escape.

I focused my eyes directly ahead and continued with my 'opening speech'. "It is an honour to have the pleasure of your company on this momentous occasion, and to mark the celebrations I have written you an opera." I directed this last remark to Richard and Moncharmin, with more than a hint of authority and a hiss of warning. I now produced my leather-bound score with the title 'Don Juan Triumphant' embossed on it, in gold italics. In the space where the composer's name is usually found was left empty, save an intricate still-life of a perfect rose, much like the ones I used to leave for my angel in her dressing room…

I tossed the score to Moncharmin's feet, ensuring that the throw wasn't powerful enough to damage my precious work. I took a step back and drew my sword victoriously, at the same time adding to my previous words, "Don Juan Triumphant!" I almost sang in my most dominating voice. I now placed my sword back in it's sheath and lowered my tone, until it became more melodic. "Consider this a gift, good Mousiers, and I have a few notes before rehearsals start."

I smiled again, and again drew my sword and allowed it to rest in my arm, by my side. Even if this plan failed, the petrified looks on all those faces would still see me through for a long while. Of course, my main points on how the opera was to me performed had been enclosed along with the work itself, but there were a few points I needed to make crystal clear first. I turned to that arrogant goose Carlotta, and started with the first. "Carlotta must be taught to act, not her usual trick of strutting round the stage!" As I said this I ruffled those terribly tacky feathers atop of her golden silk turban. The diva threw up her hands in alarm and let out a gasp of fear.

Her lover now pushed Carlotta back and stood in front of me, his chest puffed up and cheeks red with outrage, or was it wine? I smirked, Piangi, Piangi, if only you could see what a fool you resemble, I though to myself. I lifted my weapon and poked it's sharp point into the flabby fat of his bulging stomach. I didn't want to cause him any bodily harm, only scare him into submission. "Our Don Juan must lose some weight." I paused and added, "It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age." That tenor's expression of pure fury, suppressed by my blade, was so humorous I nearly laughed out loud! But this feeling that quickly gone as I felt another wave of fear-filled nausea sweep over me, for now it was time for me to turn and face my angel.

I inhaled and in his most angelic tone sang softy, "As for Miss. Daae." I turned until I faced her, though I didn't allow myself to look directly at her. I was about 16 feet away from her, yet the mere thrill of standing on the same ground as her, made my knees tremble. I then, yet again, placed my sword in it's holdall, by my hip. I felt a air of sarcasm in the next few words I sang to my crowd, deliberating avoiding my angel's face. "No doubt she'll do her best, it's true; her voice is good though should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn if pride we let her return to me, her teacher, her teacher…" I began to mutter as I trailed off, for something had caught my eye.

I knew I should have resisted the urge to look at her, I knew I should have kept my eyes to myself and certainly not have let them wander so low… It was a curse I brought upon myself, the curse of sight. In a brilliant flash, the unrequited love that had sustained me and yet so badly blinded me for so long was gone and I was left starring at it. It. That horribly beautiful, slim, silver band with a diamond that could fund a war, placed in the middle of it. I was no longer blind, my sight had been restored and the truth was being reflected from those shiny prisms. 'My' Christine was no longer mine, and would soon be the legal property of another, but as I say, a small thing like marriage (or rather future marriage), would not going to prevent me from getting what I wanted…

Authorette's note: Rest assured that next chapter there'll be a 'cunning' plot twist and some good ol' action and drama! Until next time, 'So long so long - and thanks for all the reviews!'