Inwardly, Christine wilted. She was loved already, by a man who made poor Raoul look like a boy in knee-pants. How could she salvage Raoul's dignity without lying to him? She smiled at him weakly. Had this been Erik, he would have seen through the poor imitation immediately. As it was, Raoul saw only what he expected to see.
She lowered her eyes shyly and placed one hand over her heart
"Raoul, it has been lovely coming to know you. I enjoy your company. Thank you very much for looking out for me." She prayerfully hoped that he would interpret this as a lady's demurral.
"But do you hear me, Christine? I love you! I would walk the deserts of Africa for you!" Raoul was holding her hands a little too tightly. She winced and tried to gently extract her fingers from his grip.
"Oh, Raoul, you are such a nice gentleman. You've been a dear friend to me. But do you think your family will approve of your feelings for me? I am only an Opera girl, and you are the younger brother of the noble Vicompte deChagny. I fear that your brother would never condone anything between us." She could think of no other escape. If Raoul could use his brother's name to force her to let him search her quarters, surely she was justified in using his family's very real objections to their courtship.
Raoul eased his grip on her hands. Christine began walking down the corridor again, hoping to keep him moving. This mortifying experience could not end soon enough.
"Is that it, Christine?" Raoul asked, elated. He fairly jogged along behind her. "You feel you must cool your tenderness towards me because you are below my station?"
She kept walking, avoiding his eyes. "It would seem the prudent course." Were I in love with you, she finished the thought silently.
"That's not a problem. I'm sure he wouldn't object at all, if you were willing to make one little promise…" Raoul thought of his daydream with Christine singing in the drawing room amongst a gathering of France's finest people.
"What is that little promise?" She could guess easily enough.
"Why, only that you promise to stop singing for your supper, Christine. A beautiful voice like yours - a beautiful lady like you – should not be paraded around on a stage for the entire world to see. You could still sing, of course, for the family and at parties and so forth…"
Raoul continued talking, but Christine was no longer hearing him. When he said, "stop singing" her mind had shut him out. She doggedly led him towards Mme Giry's apartments and knocked on the door.
Meg answered the door, and invited the young couple in. She thought how handsome Raoul looked, and how irked Christine looked. They settled into the parlor to wait for Mme Giry to return from her duties in the servants' hall. Meg tried to chat with Christine, but found that her friend was unwilling to respond beyond a curt syllable or two. Instead, she turned to the young gentleman, and asked after his health and his family's.
Having ascertained that he and his family were indeed very well, thank you, Meg commented on the weather, Carlotta's gradually improving voice, and the latest Operetta in which Christine was to star. This last drew a smile from Christine, but a dark look from Raoul. The discomfort in the room was palpable. Fortunately, Mme Giry chose that moment to return.
After explaining his request to Mme Giry, Raoul got up as if he expected the women to troupe after him. When he did not hear the swish of slippers following him, he turned to stare at them. Each still sat in place: Christine looking smug, Meg with an expression of anxiety on her normally gay features, and Mme Giry giving him a look he remembered from his childhood – when his mother found it necessary to scold him.
"Well then, aren't you coming?"
"Monsieur Raoul, I may be only a Housekeeper, but I feel I must make bold to enlighten you on some matters." She stood and crossed to the hearth, testing the spotless mantelpiece for dust. "The first is that young ladies should be let alone by young gentlemen. They certainly should not be subject to searches of their private quarters. I'd not even force such indignities on the young girls in my dormitories."
"But I…" Mme Giry continued as though he had not spoken.
"The second is that the Management and I have been aware of Christine's invisible voice teacher for many, many years now. He has been strict, but never ill-treated the girl. Without a doubt, she would not be the Prima Donna today were it not for his teaching. So I will not search her apartments for him. I know his nature, and what she says is true. He will not be found skulking in her closets."
Raoul riled. "My brother will…" The threat was evident in his voice and face, but Mme Giry was a veteran of the opera business, and understood her place very well.
"Your brother will not. You are young, Monsieur deChagny, and therefore you don't understand some aspects of business. Your brother shan't interfere in this matter as he has in others." Here, she gave Christine a small, motherly smile. "I may be bent old woman, but I do more 'managing' here than Poligny and Debienne together, and your brother is wise enough to know that. The honorable Vicompte DeChagny will not let me go, because I make too much money for him. Similarly, he will not force this little angel off the stage. Where, I believe, she is very happy to be."
"But it is for Christine's own good, Madame! Surely you do not think it healthy that some disembodied voice visits her in her private rooms at night?" Raoul was accustomed to having his way. This somberly dressed old woman was beginning to frustrate him.
"Believe me, young Monsieur, when I tell you that Christine's honor is as intact today as ever it was. And if you'd like a bit of a withered old lady's advice, I'd tell you that to win a beautiful girl's heart, you must begin with trust and respect, not with her bedroom." The good Madame patted the distraught young man on the shoulder. "Now, if you'll pardon me, the dining staff will be drying the fish and spotting the silverware without my direction." She smiled reassuringly at Christine and bustled from the room.
Raoul was incensed. Why was no one else worried about Christine's welfare? He considered going back to Christine's room and looking anyway, but she had locked the door and did not appear to be in the mood to let him back in. He would simply have to find out about the mysterious voice teacher some other way. In the meantime, he looked at Christine. She was so pretty, sitting there with Meg. She was the victim in all of this; victim to her imaginary 'Angel', and victim to the neglectful care of Mme Giry and the management. In three nights' time, I will solve this.
