Disclaimer: I have no rights toThe Phantom of the Opera, Romeo et Juliette, Don Giovanni, or the Frenchlanguage. I must content myself with Danielle,Gisele Harcourt, Ami Picard (not that you'd want them),and the plot.
Chapter Six: The Phantom Revealed
Danielle
The morning after the masquerade, the cast list for Romeo et Juliette was posted. To Danielle's intense disappointment, but not to her surprise, she was put in the chorus. Again. She immediately returned to her music room. Once she reached the piano, she looked through her pile of sheet music and pulled out Donna Elvira's air from Don Giovanni by Mozart. She needed something to take her mind off of her frustrations.
First, she'd discovered that she had a very attractive and mysterious, though oddly unsettling, admirer. Then, she'd gotten passed over by the casting director, while Gisele Harcourt, who couldn't sing a song without improvising thirty sharp notes in every verse, received the lead. She felt that Elvira's melancholy air about her lost love, Don Giovanni, was quite appropriate for the situation.
As Danielle sang,
"In memory still lingers his love's delusive sway,"
she heard someone moan again. It had to be the same man she'd heard weeks before. She stopped playing and singing immediately.
Suddenly a masculine voice, a voice so terribly beautiful that it made her tremble, sang,
"Appear, love, at thy window."
It was Don Giovanni's serenade to Zerlina. Danielle had never heard it sung so gently, so sweetly. She was rendered breathless by its simple magnificence. The voice continued the song meant to make Zerlina love Giovanni, making Danielle forget everything else in the world as she focused on the timbre. The melody seemed to wrap around her, warming her. Two tears rolled from her eyes when the voice stopped.
"Who are you," she demanded in a strong voice that betrayed no emotion.
"Guess," he teased in an all too recognizable whisper.
Danielle's eyes roamed the ceiling and the walls, searching for a way that her visitor could sound so close, but be invisible to her. "Most people here are terribly superstitious and would say that you're a ghost, but I don't believe in ghosts. Some would say you have the voice of an angel of God, but the first thing an angel says to a human is, "Don't be afraid," which obviously you haven't said to me. No, I think you're a man, and I think I know which man. You're the man I heard moan weeks ago. You're the one that's been watching me ever since then. The one who left me flowers on this piano, the man who watched my audition from box five." Danielle murmured the words, "Appear, love, at thy window," and her eyes fell on the mirror. "You're Orpheus."
"Very good, Danae, but you're only half right," he answered, this time in a smug, rich baritone. It was impossible to tell where he was from by his accent.
"I've heard whispers," she said, continuing to address the mirror, "about an Opera Ghost."
"What have you heard," he asked, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice.
"No one is brave enough to speak of the ghost, not even the ones least superstitious, but I have heard the ballerinas gasp, "The Phantom," or, "The Opera Ghost," whenever something strange happens."
"They were always too quick to blame me."
"Then you are the Phantom of the Opera," she questioned, standing.
"I've been called that," he stated.
"What do you want with me," she asked evenly, rather curious to hear the reason.
"I heard you singing and playing your composition in here a month ago. I must admit that you're one of the most talented individuals I have had the pleasure of meeting. A brilliant singer, a fantastic pianist, a composer, and a graceful dancer. I'm impressed."
"I thank you for that. Judging by your voice, you must be a great artist, but surely you didn't go through all this trouble—bringing me flowers, watching my audition, going to the masque—to flatter me and congratulate me for my artistic pursuits? Not only that, but you risk detection. A man in your position must be very secretive. What do you stand to gain?"
"I knew you were intelligent, but I had hoped that you'd me more naïve," he said, sounding annoyed at the sheer impertinence she displayed by being wary where men were concerned. "I want to train you. You're voice could be seraphic if you took lessons from me. We might even manage to make your father proud of you," he added temptingly.
"How did you know about that," she asked suspiciously.
"I've been watching you very closely since the day I heard you sing. I also have good sources within the Opera."
"Why me, Monsieur? Why not train Gisele Harcourt, or Ami Picard? They have both played the leads in several productions. It would be much easier for them to get roles in future productions, thus making it easier for your hard work to be displayed for the public," Danielle reasoned.
"If I offered to help either of those cows, they would rant about my impudence to suggest that they aren't perfect already, and then call the gendarmes to have me arrested."
Danielle allowed herself the luxury of laughing a bit at the accurate picture her visitor painted of the two divas. However, her laughter subsided when she remembered that Don Giovanni used his serenade to try to seduce Zerlina.
"And if I consent to take lessons from you, what am I to give you in return," she queried delicately, quirking an eyebrow.
"Believe me, Danielle, I won't ask anything of you. You can trust me and my intentions. I love your voice and I want it to be heard and praised."
For some inexplicable reason, Danielle did trust him. His voice sounded sincere, and had even shaken when he'd said the words, "I love." She knew that accepting the Phantom's offer would be unwise, but she felt rather reckless after hearing the enchanting quality of his voice.
"Alright; I trust you. I would be honored to take lessons from you, Monsieur," she said with a peculiar (but not unpleasant), leaping sensation in her chest.
"You trust me," the Phantom asked blankly.
"I don't see any reason why I shouldn't. You've never done anything to me, and I've always believed in giving a person a chance."
"That is very kind of you; I'm not used to such generosity," he said, sounding very melancholy.
They made plans to meet everyday at eight in the morning.
"Are you going to come into the room for the lessons," Danielle asked.
"I will if you wish it," he answered tonelessly.
"I don't generally like speaking to disembodied voices. Not that I have often done so," she added, practically.
At that moment, the lights went out. When they came back on, the Phantom was standing a foot in front of her, next to the controls. Danielle leaped back in shock. She noticed with some amazement that he was wearing a white mask, which covered most of the right side of his face. He stepped forward with a strangely hungry look in his burning blue eyes. Once more, Danielle had the feeling that this man was dangerous. For some reason, she wasn't all that scared.
"There is one condition I must impress upon you: You must never touch my mask."
"Psyche," she whispered.
"Pardon me?"
"Psyche," she said out loud. "You reminded me of Cupid and Psyche. Cupid loved Psyche, but would only visit her in the dark so she wouldn't know he was a god. You claim to love my voice, but, like Cupid, you refuse to let me see your face."
"Just remember," he warned, "that when Psyche became curious and saw Cupid by lamplight, she almost lost him forever."
Danielle nodded to show that she agreed to his terms. With that, he turned the lights off again and disappeared into the darkness. She realized with a jolt that she still didn't know his name.
Erik
As soon as Erik reached his underground home, he threw himself wearily into the chair at his writing desk. Act One was over, but it hadn't been easy. He had expected her to figure out who he was quickly, but he hadn't foreseen that she would connect him to the Phantom of the Opera. He was just glad that she hadn't heard any of his exploits as the Phantom.
Erik had to admit that it was a relief to know that he wouldn't have to lie to her. He had felt like a heel when he told Christine he was the Angel of Music. Of course, at the time he hadn't meant to fall in love with her. It had happened over time, and he'd been in love before he'd known it. With Danielle, he could be himself.
Erik was struck by the sudden realization that she had compared him to the god of love. He smirked as he thought, Psyche loved Cupid even though she couldn't see him. Of course, Cupid was a god who had gone to Psyche and made her believe he was a monster. He, Erik, was a monster who had gone to Danielle in the guise of a god. He just hoped that his warning would be taken to heart. If she saw his face, she would never want to see him again. He couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let that happen.
Tomorrow, after their first lesson, Erik planned to start construction on her bedroom. When he was finished, he would ask Danielle to live there. It would be much safer if they had their lessons there. He just hoped that he could convince her that he wouldn't take advantage of her, which would probably be the first thought that came into her head when he made this proposition. But maybe she would learn to trust him by then.
Erik made a mental note to board up Christine's room. He didn't think he could handle the thought of anyone else using it. And eventually the swan bed would have to go, though he wanted to find something equally as striking for Danielle's room.
There was one nagging question in the back of Erik's mind: Why was he so nervous about bringing her here?
A/N: In some versions of the story of Cupid and Psyche, Psyche is a Thracian princess. At her birth, it is prophesied that she will one day be carried off by a monster. Psyche was very beautiful and very famous, enough so to make Venus, the goddess of love and beauty, jealous. She sent her son, Cupid (god of love), to shoot Psyche with one of his golden love arrows and make her fall in love with some wild animal. Cupid went to do his mother's bidding, but fell in love with Psyche. He carried her off and told her that he was the monster she was fated to marry. He only let her see him at night, so Psyche became curious about her husband. One night, she brought a lighted oil lamp to the bed where he was sleeping. When she saw him, she was so surprised that she dropped the lamp, burning his ankle. He left her, and she was forced to wander the world searching for him. They were finally reunited and Jupiter, king of the Roman gods, gave Psyche ambrosia, making her immortal.
