After mass, Christine met with Meg to begin preparing tea. The two girls decided to bake delicate teacakes, to serve along with tea and fresh fruit. Mme Giry showed up shortly after they began work and settled into the plush chair near the fireplace with her knitting. Meg grinned impishly at Christine until the more reserved girl finally lost patience.

"Why are you smiling at me like that, Megan Giry?"

"Oh, how can you even ask? You are granting the most eligible bachelor his second audience with you. I don't know how you did it, Christine. You are certainly a pretty girl, but you never leave the library. You know that all the other girls are terribly envious of you…"

"Are they? Honestly, I don't know what it is that Raoul sees in me – I'm no prettier than you." She paused in setting out the tea service. "He is a very nice young man, is he not?"

Meg laughed merrily. "He's the younger brother of the Vicompte, who will someday be Compte, and when his brother has passed on, he will be the Compte. This must be the most exciting thing that has ever happened to you!"

I'm not at all sure of that, thought Christine.

A soft knock signified Raoul's arrival. After he had made his bows to Mme Giry, Meg offered him a chair opposite Christine. She busied herself serving tea while Raoul and Christine looked for something to talk about. Finally, the conversation veered towards the audition to be held the following day.

"How long have you known you would sing in the Opera?" Raoul asked.

His class was suspicious of performers; they had a reputation of being flighty and immoral. Women in the performing arts were especially suspect. Opera singers usually did not even wear a proper corset, but opted for different types of undergarments. Though by the girth of her waist she subscribed to the no-corset school of thought, this girl was not immoral or unrestrained at all. He did not understand music or the irresistible pull it influenced over those who heard its siren call. He thought she must have been thrust into this life unwillingly, and mused over how nice it would be to deliver her into a proper domestic life for a young lady.

"I have known that I would sing since I was a very small girl. My father was a violinist unparalleled. Before he died, he bade me become a great lady in the Opera, and that is what I have striven to become. If I earn the role of Margeurite, I will feel as though I've begun to fulfill that dream. If not, I know I must work harder."

Unable to understand from an artist's perspective, Raoul thought about this from his brother's perspective. Christine was certain to land the role. She was a perfect Margeurite, and though he was only an opera amateur, he could tell that her voice was extraordinary. This meant that she would generate ticket sales and increase the theatre's profitability.

"I don't think there's any doubt who will play Margeurite. I, for one, look forward to your performance. I have heard that you have a mystery voice teacher whom no one has ever seen. Who is he?" Raoul meant his question to be amusing, but Christine paled.

"He…I have never seen him. He hides himself even from me. And he prefers not to be discussed. Would you like some more tea? Sugar?" She saw Meg quirk an eyebrow at the lie.

She was maddening; Raoul grew more fascinated with every passing moment. Because he was a gentleman and tried to accommodate a lady in every way, he changed the subject. "How long have you lived in Paris? Your French is perfect, but I detect the slightest Swedish accent."

Christine launched into that story and when she was done, Raoul asked about her childhood in Sweden, her opinion on the latest fashions, and other harmless sundries. He did not return to the sensitive subjects of music, opera, and teachers; none of which interested him very much anyway. When tea was over, signaled by Mme Giry standing up with a yawn, Raoul offered his hand to assist Christine from her chair. Once she was standing, he was loath to let go. She firmly retrieved her hand, but smiled at him sweetly.

"I have enjoyed tea very much, Raoul." Meg had instructed her never to make an invitation to a gentlemen until she was engaged to him. It was more proper for a young lady to wait for friends or the young gentleman in question to make such a proposition. Raoul did not make her wait long.

"I would like to see you again, Christine. The weather has begun to warm quite a bit. A picnic by the lake would be lovely, don't you think?" he watched Christine glance to Mme Giry, who nodded.

"I wouldn't mind an outing to the lake, would you, Meg?" Mme Giry thought nothing of inviting herself along. Someone had to watch out for the young Daae, and since she had no family, it fell to Mme Giry and Meg to protect her virtue.

"Next Friday then? We will share a picnic lunch in the park; I'll bring some poetry to read to you. Au revoir, ladies." He walked away jauntily whistling and buffing his hat.

Meg took Christine's hand and pulled her conspiratorially close. "I think he is serious about courting you, Christine! He has never been known to ask after the same young lady more than once. Do you like him?"

Christine thought about it for a moment. Did she like Raoul? He was a nice young man and was always so polite and respectful. There was no reason not to like him.

"Yes, I like him well enough." she found her thoughts wandering away from Raoul, to the passionate music that accompanied her pre-dawn lessons and the mystery of her teacher. She liked Raoul, but she also liked a nice slice of buttered toast with a dollop of honey in the mornings.

"Maybe he will be your knight in shining armor! Can you imagine marrying him? You will have your every whim catered to. There would be servants to dress you and you'll take your meals in a dining room. You could throw parties and…"

"Do you think he would allow me to continue singing?" Christine interrupted.

Meg did not hesitate, "On the stage? Oh heavens, Christine, no! You could sing for company, and for your husband, but I'm sure that it would not do for the Vicompte deChagny's wife to sing in public!" Meg seemed so scandalized by the idea that Christine did not pursue the conversation. It was ridiculous that only by signing a marriage contract she would cease to exist as her own person.

The girls cleaned up the remains of tea and then Christine retreated to her private apartment to nap so that she could make her early morning lesson. Her audition was tomorrow. She had begun cosseting her voice, drinking warm herbal teas and speaking only within a very narrow range. A naïve part of her hoped that if she performed well enough at the audition Carlotta would be forced to admit that she deserved the role and would not hold a grudge for the defeat.