After their resounding success, Christine and her father were escorted to Madame Giry, responsible for the Opera's "household" affairs, and housemother for the young girls in the ballet corps. She was a bustling, motherly woman whose comfortable manner immediately set the foreigners at their ease. When M. Poligny delivered Christine and Nils to her care, he gushed over the excellent audition, and gave her to understand that the gentleman was to have a suite of his own, and that the girl could stay with her father, if they wished, or she could go to the dorms with the dancers.

"Adieu, Monsieur Premier Violinist. You shall receive your music tomorrow, sir. Bonne nuit, petite fille, you may become a great woman someday!"

Nils bowed deeply, truly grateful for their recognition of his talent. Christine curtsied, calling "Bon nuit, monsieur! Dormez-vous bien!" She thought M. Poligny the nicer of the two, but was reserving judgement for a less exciting day. She felt a warm, soft hand squeeze her shoulder and looked up into the smiling face of Mme. Giry.

"Now then, will you stay with your father, or shall I find you a nice little bed in the dorm with the other girls?" asked the good lady, gently. The child looked absolutely fatigued. Men were apt to forget the limits of children when their minds were otherwise occupied.

"I'd like to stay with my Daddy, please, Madame," replied Christine, gravely. "Since mother went to sing in heaven, he has to have someone to take care of him and make sure he's good."

Equally gravely, Mme Giry looked to Nils. "Is this so, monsieur? You need this little woman around to make sure you behave?"

He laughed and nodded. "She does keep me busy, and busy hands have little time for dishonest work."

Mme. Giry nodded sagely. "Then let me show you to your rooms. No doubt you are both tired from your long travels. I will have some dinner brought to you." She led them through the labyrinthine halls, taking lefts and rights seemingly at random. Christine kept up with the first several turns, but was completely lost when Mme Giry stopped at an ornate oak door. She took a key from the heavy iron hoop at her waist, unlocked the door and handed the key to Nils.

"You are in Suite 42, monsieur. Should you get lost, ask anyone and they'll bring you back here." Noticing their bewildered stares, she clucked sympathetically. "Don't worry, dears. This place may seem confusing at first, but it will feel small enough in time. Now good night. Rest well; you shall be very busy in the morning."

She started to walk away, a thousand tasks related to the bringing in of a new performer on her mind, but pulled up short. Her false front of curls bounced as she fairly jogged back to the two who still stood in the doorway of their suite. She had forgotten something very important that any newcomer to the Opera needed to know.

"Listen to me, now, dears. This Opera house is a beautiful place and you will be very happy here - as long as you keep one thing in mind. The Phantom of the Opera haunts these halls! If what M. Poligny said of your talents is true, you will have nothing to fear from him, but you should still be aware that he is always near. He hears everything. He sees everything. Take care not to offend him, dears. Now, goodnight again. I am behind schedule!"

Her skirts swished loudly as she barreled down the hall to her next task. Christine and Nils looked at each other bemusedly. The Phantom of the Opera? How would one go about offending an Opera ghost?

Nils smiled reassuringly at his daughter. "If there is a Phantom of the Opera, mijn zangvogel, he would be honored to have you in his demesnes. I don't think either of us has anything to fear here."

They had only just finished settling in, when a sharp knock on the door made them both jump. Nils called for the visitor to come in. No one replied. He shared a look with Christine.

"Who do you think that might be, Christine?" A playful smiled danced in his bright blue eyes.

"It must be the Ghost, Papa." She returned his grin.

"Well then, my dear, what do you think we should do?"

"Don't you know it is rude to keep a ghost waiting at the door? Let him in!" She was not afraid of ghosts – her father would banish any evil spirit, probably with his violin bow.

Nils went to the door and made a great show of slowly turning the handle and peeking through the crack in the door. The delicious aroma of a savory meal wafted in as soon as he opened the door. There were many covered silver dishes, a carafe of wine, a carafe of water, and a pretty set of china plates and bowls. An eager inspection revealed a delicious four course meal, cooked in the finest French tradition. As Nils served up thick slices of fresh bread and soft cheese, he felt compelled to alter his earlier statement.

"I don't think either of us has anything to fear from this Phantom, except the loss of our waistlines…" Christine would have laughed, but her mouth was too full.

Erik slipped away, satisfied that he had pleased his pet family. It had been no small feat to assemble the meal and wrestle the cart through the narrow passageways. The sound of the seven-year-old's giggle floated down the hall, and infected him with a peculiar warmth.