The next few days were busily occupied with practice since the Opera
company would be resuming rehearsals soon. As usual, when Christine began
her vocal exercises each day, I would stand close by with a critical eye to
identify any flaws in her delivery. Up until now, I'd dispassionately
place my hands on her shoulders to gently correct her posture, or place my
fingers upon her abdomen to adjust her presentation.
Now, after the shift in our personal relationship, I found myself re- evaluating my every movement. Whereas before, I wouldn't hesitate to adjust her posture, now I noticed I was timid to touch her. My firm resolve to teach her properly banished such cowardice and I would force myself to focus solely on her instruction. Oddly, Christine seemed to experience the same awkwardness and several times, she became flustered when I would correct her physical stance. At times, I would stop playing at the organ in the middle of a difficult aria and approach her to improve her position. The blush which crept upon her cheeks at such times filled me with a heretofore unknown masculine delight that she could possibly be shaken by my nearness.
I accompanied Christine to her flat to retrieve some items she told me she needed. She adamantly refused to allow me to purchase anything she desired. Not wishing to compromise her reputation, I waited in the carriage while she went inside alone. After locking the door, she returned with an armload of items. Bashfully, she said softly, "These are a few things I need but I shall return later for the rest." Storing her belongings on the floor of the carriage, I wondered wide-eyed how many personal effects a young woman required. Smiling dubiously, I remained silent since I had virtually no knowledge of such matters.
The day rehearsals were to begin, I awoke early and built a fire in the fireplace. After assembling a light breakfast for Christine, I began to wonder at her continued absence. Had she overslept? Unsure, I stood before her bedroom door deciding if I should knock. Just as I had put my hand up to knock lightly on her door, she opened it and saw me standing there. After she gasped in surprise at my unexpected presence at her door, we both laughed impulsively at each other's sudden appearance. Smiling down at her, I explained. "I was beginning to think you had overslept and did not wish for you to be late."
Christine blushed becomingly and looked down at the floor between us. When she raised her sparkling eyes to mine again, I found her utterly irresistible. Putting a hand on her shoulder, I placed a light, chaste kiss on her forehead. Christine looked up at me with gentle surprise and took my hand as she walked to the kitchen. Pleased, I was deluged with wonder and questioned to myself if this is what it was like to awaken with one's wife. As we entered the kitchen, she dropped my hand and began to add lemon to her tea. Looking sideways at me, she inquired, "Did you sleep well, Erik?"
The sheer normality of such an intimate conversation struck me speechless as I gazed down to her. Swallowing hard, I answered, "Very well. And you, Christine?"
She turned to me comfortably. "No, I didn't. I'm rather nervous about beginning rehearsals again." Taking a sip of tea, she confided softly "I don't feel as confident without you there."
Thrilled with her disclosure, I smiled and assured her, "I am always at your rehearsals, Christine. Even though you can't see me, I am there." Suddenly, I remembered that I had promised the exact same vow when she had only known me as her Angel of Music. Apparently, she recalled as well and her eyes lifted as she smiled demurely. At a loss for words, I boldly took her hand and kissed the back of it as silent messages were mutely transmitted between us. Freeing her hand, I turned to leave to get my cloak and she touched my arm, halting me. With an endearingly trusting expression, she said, "I am so glad you're always there for me, Erik." Placing my hand over hers and giving it a small squeeze, I had to leave before I kissed her.
Later, as I opened the pivot to the large mirror in her dressing room, I busied myself by lighting a small candelabra on her dressing table. Christine appeared nervous and, although she did not wring her hands, she bit her lip in apprehension. Finished with my task, I turned towards her and took both of her hands.
"Christine.....do not worry so. You are progressing well and if you were not ready, I would tell you. You do trust me, don't you?" I smiled.
Tensely, she nodded and answered with an assurance she did not feel. "Yes, I do trust you, Erik. I am just concerned about disappointing you."
Taking her chin in my hand, I met her eyes for a long moment before responding. "You never disappoint me, my Sweet. In any way." Her luminous, huge blue eyes beckoned me invitingly . In response, I tilted my head and slowly pressed my lips to hers. Oh, how I had missed her kiss! It was as though once I had tasted of her, I could not get enough. Yet, I did not wish to overwhelm her with any amorous advances and I shouldn't have kissed her now. Pulling away slowly, I opened my eyes but kept my hand on her chin.
Tremulously, she smiled and gripped my hand tightly in both of her tiny ones. Then, she completely startled me as she cuddled against my shirtfront and whispered "Hold me, please." Willingly, my arms immediately complied and I closed my eyes in rapturous bliss. Sighing in contentment against her hair, I felt as though I could hold her that way through all eternity. However, I went rigid at the sound of footsteps in the hallway and placed my hands on her shoulders.
Without a word, I conveyed my silent encouragement to her and she nodded as though she understood. Stepping through the mirror, I looked back at her and she asked doubtfully, "You will be here after rehearsals, Erik?"
Smiling, I held the lantern and quipped, "Before, during and after, ma Cherie." With that, I left her to make my way to Box Five while pondering her abrupt insecurity. What was the unforeseen fear that drove her distress? Thinking about this in depth, I could not determine the cause.
Rehearsal began eventually after the formidable Madame Giry had all the chorus girls in hand. Christine's part in the production was a leading role but La Carlotta had been given the starring role. Rolling my eyes at her piercing rendition, I resisted the urge to cover my ears and remained concentrated entirely on Christine. Mentally, I would quietly instruct her from my seat in Box Five and I made note of her few mistakes to work on with her afterward.
As rehearsal broke up at mid-day, I stretched tall behind the curtain and made to leave Box Five. As I glanced towards Christine, I was arrested by the sight of that accursed Vicomte speaking to her as she left the stage. A possessive, violent rage gripped me and I had to restrain myself from immediately leaping out of Box Five and strangling the life out of him. Why would he not leave Christine alone?! In the back of my mind, I already knew the answer to that question. For exactly the same reason why I would not leave her alone - he loved her.
My breathing was labored as I peered out and saw him charmingly kiss her hand. I would KILL him! My hands clenched and I watched closely for Christine's reaction. She looked about wildly as though she somehow sensed my silent, horrible fury. Pulling her hand away from his grasp, her gaze practically met mine although I knew she could not see me in the dark shadows. Slipping further into the recesses of Box Five, but not so far that I could not see her, I observed with a sinking dread that she was flustered. Blushing furiously, Christine did not meet the damn boy's eyes but glanced up to him shyly. He must have asked her to dine with him because she shook her head vehemently and again, looked about her. Apologetically, Christine began to make a rushed explanation as she slipped away with Meg. I saw her glimpse towards Box Five with a naked fear in her expression. Abruptly, the murderous anger left me and I leaned against the wall in sudden weakness. For several minutes, I stayed that way with my eyes shut tight against the pain. I realized dimly that it was completely silent and peered out of the box cautiously. Only the Vicomte and I were left in the theatre. He was sitting in the front row, resting his chin on his fist and staring absently at the stage. In a blinding clarity that broke my heart, I knew what I must do.
Now, after the shift in our personal relationship, I found myself re- evaluating my every movement. Whereas before, I wouldn't hesitate to adjust her posture, now I noticed I was timid to touch her. My firm resolve to teach her properly banished such cowardice and I would force myself to focus solely on her instruction. Oddly, Christine seemed to experience the same awkwardness and several times, she became flustered when I would correct her physical stance. At times, I would stop playing at the organ in the middle of a difficult aria and approach her to improve her position. The blush which crept upon her cheeks at such times filled me with a heretofore unknown masculine delight that she could possibly be shaken by my nearness.
I accompanied Christine to her flat to retrieve some items she told me she needed. She adamantly refused to allow me to purchase anything she desired. Not wishing to compromise her reputation, I waited in the carriage while she went inside alone. After locking the door, she returned with an armload of items. Bashfully, she said softly, "These are a few things I need but I shall return later for the rest." Storing her belongings on the floor of the carriage, I wondered wide-eyed how many personal effects a young woman required. Smiling dubiously, I remained silent since I had virtually no knowledge of such matters.
The day rehearsals were to begin, I awoke early and built a fire in the fireplace. After assembling a light breakfast for Christine, I began to wonder at her continued absence. Had she overslept? Unsure, I stood before her bedroom door deciding if I should knock. Just as I had put my hand up to knock lightly on her door, she opened it and saw me standing there. After she gasped in surprise at my unexpected presence at her door, we both laughed impulsively at each other's sudden appearance. Smiling down at her, I explained. "I was beginning to think you had overslept and did not wish for you to be late."
Christine blushed becomingly and looked down at the floor between us. When she raised her sparkling eyes to mine again, I found her utterly irresistible. Putting a hand on her shoulder, I placed a light, chaste kiss on her forehead. Christine looked up at me with gentle surprise and took my hand as she walked to the kitchen. Pleased, I was deluged with wonder and questioned to myself if this is what it was like to awaken with one's wife. As we entered the kitchen, she dropped my hand and began to add lemon to her tea. Looking sideways at me, she inquired, "Did you sleep well, Erik?"
The sheer normality of such an intimate conversation struck me speechless as I gazed down to her. Swallowing hard, I answered, "Very well. And you, Christine?"
She turned to me comfortably. "No, I didn't. I'm rather nervous about beginning rehearsals again." Taking a sip of tea, she confided softly "I don't feel as confident without you there."
Thrilled with her disclosure, I smiled and assured her, "I am always at your rehearsals, Christine. Even though you can't see me, I am there." Suddenly, I remembered that I had promised the exact same vow when she had only known me as her Angel of Music. Apparently, she recalled as well and her eyes lifted as she smiled demurely. At a loss for words, I boldly took her hand and kissed the back of it as silent messages were mutely transmitted between us. Freeing her hand, I turned to leave to get my cloak and she touched my arm, halting me. With an endearingly trusting expression, she said, "I am so glad you're always there for me, Erik." Placing my hand over hers and giving it a small squeeze, I had to leave before I kissed her.
Later, as I opened the pivot to the large mirror in her dressing room, I busied myself by lighting a small candelabra on her dressing table. Christine appeared nervous and, although she did not wring her hands, she bit her lip in apprehension. Finished with my task, I turned towards her and took both of her hands.
"Christine.....do not worry so. You are progressing well and if you were not ready, I would tell you. You do trust me, don't you?" I smiled.
Tensely, she nodded and answered with an assurance she did not feel. "Yes, I do trust you, Erik. I am just concerned about disappointing you."
Taking her chin in my hand, I met her eyes for a long moment before responding. "You never disappoint me, my Sweet. In any way." Her luminous, huge blue eyes beckoned me invitingly . In response, I tilted my head and slowly pressed my lips to hers. Oh, how I had missed her kiss! It was as though once I had tasted of her, I could not get enough. Yet, I did not wish to overwhelm her with any amorous advances and I shouldn't have kissed her now. Pulling away slowly, I opened my eyes but kept my hand on her chin.
Tremulously, she smiled and gripped my hand tightly in both of her tiny ones. Then, she completely startled me as she cuddled against my shirtfront and whispered "Hold me, please." Willingly, my arms immediately complied and I closed my eyes in rapturous bliss. Sighing in contentment against her hair, I felt as though I could hold her that way through all eternity. However, I went rigid at the sound of footsteps in the hallway and placed my hands on her shoulders.
Without a word, I conveyed my silent encouragement to her and she nodded as though she understood. Stepping through the mirror, I looked back at her and she asked doubtfully, "You will be here after rehearsals, Erik?"
Smiling, I held the lantern and quipped, "Before, during and after, ma Cherie." With that, I left her to make my way to Box Five while pondering her abrupt insecurity. What was the unforeseen fear that drove her distress? Thinking about this in depth, I could not determine the cause.
Rehearsal began eventually after the formidable Madame Giry had all the chorus girls in hand. Christine's part in the production was a leading role but La Carlotta had been given the starring role. Rolling my eyes at her piercing rendition, I resisted the urge to cover my ears and remained concentrated entirely on Christine. Mentally, I would quietly instruct her from my seat in Box Five and I made note of her few mistakes to work on with her afterward.
As rehearsal broke up at mid-day, I stretched tall behind the curtain and made to leave Box Five. As I glanced towards Christine, I was arrested by the sight of that accursed Vicomte speaking to her as she left the stage. A possessive, violent rage gripped me and I had to restrain myself from immediately leaping out of Box Five and strangling the life out of him. Why would he not leave Christine alone?! In the back of my mind, I already knew the answer to that question. For exactly the same reason why I would not leave her alone - he loved her.
My breathing was labored as I peered out and saw him charmingly kiss her hand. I would KILL him! My hands clenched and I watched closely for Christine's reaction. She looked about wildly as though she somehow sensed my silent, horrible fury. Pulling her hand away from his grasp, her gaze practically met mine although I knew she could not see me in the dark shadows. Slipping further into the recesses of Box Five, but not so far that I could not see her, I observed with a sinking dread that she was flustered. Blushing furiously, Christine did not meet the damn boy's eyes but glanced up to him shyly. He must have asked her to dine with him because she shook her head vehemently and again, looked about her. Apologetically, Christine began to make a rushed explanation as she slipped away with Meg. I saw her glimpse towards Box Five with a naked fear in her expression. Abruptly, the murderous anger left me and I leaned against the wall in sudden weakness. For several minutes, I stayed that way with my eyes shut tight against the pain. I realized dimly that it was completely silent and peered out of the box cautiously. Only the Vicomte and I were left in the theatre. He was sitting in the front row, resting his chin on his fist and staring absently at the stage. In a blinding clarity that broke my heart, I knew what I must do.