Raoul stood outside the heavy oak door, one hand raised to knock, the other clutching a bouquet of daffodils and bluebells. Inside the apartment there were two voices: Christine's and…a man's.
He heard Christine's voice say "Please, Erik?" So, this is the music teacher, thought Raoul, the man to whom she dedicated all her performances. At first, the man's words were too quiet to hear through the thick wood, but once he applied his ear to the door and stilled his breathing he was able to make out the rest. "…you have known for eight years. And, I will need some time. In three nights I will come to you. Until then…goodbye." Seconds later, Christine's voice murmuring, and then silence. The silence went on for a brief moment, then Christine began to hum something from an Opera Raoul had never heard before. It was a pretty tune that was at once melancholy and sweet.
Raoul stood ramrod straight outside the door, waiting for his rival to emerge. He forced his heart to slow to its normal rhythm. He quickly planned a challenge. He would face the man, bow, and say, "Sir, I do believe you have wronged the lady's honor." If he were at all a gentleman he would be forced to respond. Christine's humming went on for several minutes. Raoul heard her practice a few scales. The strange man did not emerge. Raoul pictured him sitting in the cracked leather chair, drinking tea while Christine…did what? He couldn't imagine.
An entire half-hour passed. A servant carrying a coal scuttle made her ponderous way down the corridor, giving Raoul a curious look. The sidelong glance clearly asked what the well-dressed young gentleman was doing standing in the hall with a fistful of flowers. Raoul gathered his dignity and knocked three times. A few moments later, the door opened. Christine smiled at him, her eyes dreamy. At any other time, or with any other girl, Raoul would have assumed that dreamy look to be for him. He had heard the man's low and mellow voice, promising to return in three nights' time. Nights. Was the dreamy look for him? Or for this Erik, whom no one had ever seen.
"Raoul, what pretty flowers!"
"I hate to intrude on you, especially if you have a guest…?" He craned his neck, trying to see into the parlor.
Christine swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. How could he have known? How long had been standing in the hall? The flowers in his hand looked slightly crumpled, but no other clue presented itself.
"Of course not." She thought of the half-filled teacups sitting out on the coffee table. "Would you like to take a walk? It is a beautiful day, and I haven't anything to do until dinner." She watched Raoul examine the interior of her apartment like a suspicious gendarme. There was nothing to see from this angle, of course. "Raoul?"
"Uh..of course, Christine, if a walk would please you." He saw no one, but the owner of the voice must still be inside. The speaker could be hiding in her bedroom, the coat closet, her bedroom…
"It would. Shall I put those in some water first?" She nodded towards the bouquet he had nearly forgotten.
"Yes. They are for you. May I step into your vestibule while you do that? The hallway is drafty." Raoul expected a polite refusal. If there was another man in her apartment, surely she would not want him in there.
"Oh dear, it is drafty there. This wing of the building never does get warm until high summer. Do step in." she took the flowers and carried them into her kitchen, quickly putting them into a decorative pitcher with some water.
"There are two cups on the coffee table, Christine. I thought you said no one was here." His tone was accusatory and reproving. "I knew I heard a voice…" He walked into the parlor from the vestibule as though he had been invited.
"You were eavesdropping on me?" Christine's newfound temper flared within her. The gall of this man! "Where are you going? It is not proper for…"
"There's a man in your apartment, Christine. You have no room to tell me about what is proper!"
Christine stepped in his path, her hands on her hips, and her cheeks a furious red. "Stop this minute, Raoul DeChagny. I don't know what you think you heard, but you have no right to search my private apartments! There is no one here, except you, and if you don't stop, I will go get Mme Giry."
Raoul scoffed at the weightless threat. Mme Giry was no obstruction to him; his brother paid the woman's salary. "That's an excellent idea, Christine. Let's do go and get Mme Giry. When we leave, you can lock the door behind you so that your visitor is locked in. Then we will all come back and search together."
"That's ridiculous, Raoul. There. Is. No. One. Here." Her voice rose in volume, but dropped in register.
"Christine, don't get angry. I know there is someone here, because I heard his voice. You are a young girl, and a very pretty one. Some man has been…taking advantage…of your living alone and having no father to protect you. I will protect you and your honor. I, and my brother - who owns this place."
In her indignation, Christine had forgotten that fact. Raoul could ruin her life here if he so chose. Erik had taught her much about music and voice, but now she used lessons learned from M. Reyeurre and the directors. She had been a terrible actress the first time she rehearsed. By opening night, she was truly first lady of the stage. Now, she covered her anger with what she hoped was a convincing air of naive innocence.
"You did hear a male voice, Raoul. But I swear to you: there is no one else here. It was the voice of my good Angel. Since I was a little girl, my angel speaks to me at night, teaching me and guiding me. But I've never seen him. He is only a voice."
Raoul pitied Christine her naiveté. She obviously believed in this Angel. He had to find where the man was hiding. They would lock the door and search the place carefully. Once she could see that he was a man and certainly no angel, she would accept Raoul as her protector. That is when he would propose…
"Alright. Let us go as Mme Giry to come look for this Angel of yours, shall we?" He offered his arm and led her down the hall. Christine accepted the escort, overjoyed to get Raoul out of her quarters. With Mme Giry present, the search would not be too intensive, and Meg would be happy to keep the protective young man distracted. Meanwhile, Christine played to Raoul's expectations. She feared reprisal should she resist. Her whole life - and now her heart - was inseparably entwined with the Opera Populaire and its inhabitants.
"Raoul, you will find no one, I assure you. But if you think it best, we will let Mme Giry look. It's just not proper, "she summoned a blush, "for a man to search a lady's quarters."
Raoul had the goodness to feel a little guilty as he escorted her down the hallway. "I do apologize, Christine." He stopped and took her hands. He stared so intently into her eyes that Christine became uncomfortable. "It's only that…when I heard a man's voice in your apartment I worried for you. I worried for you because," he paused dramatically. "I love you, Christine!"
