Chapter 4

The morning had been so cold that Christine had decided not to visit the graveyard. A freezing rain had covered the snow, which had then turned to ice. After that, the weather had cooled again and made the city a slippery block of silver. Christine did not want to be out in such weather. She sat in the Changy parlor, sipping some chocolate. Raoul sat beside her, reading the paper that he had sent a servant to fetch, despite the ice.

"Well, well, well," Raoul sighed unhappily, "Your friend is the next Mozart."

Christine looked up from her drink, "What is that?"

"It appears that the public took a little too great a liking to the 'opera macabre'. They want more," Raoul sighed and threw the paper on the floor.

"Yes, that is unexpected," Christine agreed.

Raoul nodded, "Unexpected..."

"What I do not understand is why Erik never appeared," Christine mused.

"Yes, I do not understand either!" Raoul exclaimed, "Even if he knew of the plot, one would think his only thought would be to challenge it! Maybe he's dead."

"No!" Christine cried without thinking. She blushed, "I mean, I don't think that is very probable."

"Ha!" Raoul grunted.

"Raoul," Christine ventured, lightly touching the Viscount's arm, "I'm worried. What if something... something happened to him?"

Raoul scowled at her, "Oh, yes," he growled, "mustn't let anything happen to that murdering wretch. Christine! Didn't you understand what the plot was?"

"Well, I didn't want to be in the plot!" Christine snapped.

"Well you were!"

"You made me!" Christine said, "I don't want Erik to die!"

"Oh, of course not! Let's just let everyone else die instead. After all, murderers should be able to..."

"Shut up!" Christine yelled, growing red, "That wasn't what I meant at all! He's not just a murderer anyway he's..."

"Oh, then I suppose that stage hand simply killed himself?" Raoul interrupted.

"We don't know what happened there!"

"You seemed pretty worried up on the roof!"

"I was startled! I'd never seen a man die before!" Christine exclaimed, "Oh, dear! I should have never brought you to the roof! All the mess caused from that is my fault!"

"Oh, yes, and the ghost had nothing to do with it at all, did he?" Raoul said coldly.

"You brute! You don't care for me at all, anyway!" Christine accused.

"I? Of course, I don't. I only rescued you in the graveyard, at great risk to myself, thought of the whole Don Juan plot, I did nothing!"

"You say Erik is a murderer, yet you placed me in position to be carried off by him last night!"

"Oh, I had guards all around, you were safe!"

"Yes, safe with guards pointing guns at me," Christine retorted, "If Erik really is as evil as you say, suppose he had used me to shield himself from the bullets if he was close enough to me."

"As if that would happen..."

"Or what if he held me to him so that we died together?"

"He wouldn't have done that, I'm sure," Raoul replied.

"Why not? Are you saying he loves me?"

"He's obsessed with you," Raoul answered, losing ground.

"Othello was obsessed, too," Christine pointed out.

"Hang it all!" Raoul snapped, "I did all in my power to keep you safe, and you are safe. Was I safe?"

"In the opera box? Yes, very."

"No, I mean, in the graveyard."

"Oh, yes, how brave, you fought a man in a duel," Christine rolled her eyes, "It's not as if you've studied self-defenses in the naval academy or something."

Raoul gritted his teeth, "Yes, and it's not as if you were worried about the life of a murderer and not of your own friend, either, was it?"

"What do you mean by that? I was worried for you. What was I supposed to do to prove myself, let you kill Erik?"

"Yes! All our problems would be over! It would have been a heroic act!" Raoul glared at his friend, "But no, you couldn't think of society! Of course, when I was wounded you made no objection." Raoul raised his voice to a falsetto, "Yes, let's just let Raoul get killed. Never mind him, he's only a loyal friend. I'd rather have this deadly viper, much more interesting, his is."

"You mind your tongue!" Christine cried, "You know nothing!

"Nothing, oh?" Raoul asked, "Well, then why did you only object to your lying angel's immediate danger?" Raoul re-adopted the falsetto voice, "No, Raoul! Not like this, Raoul! Whatever would I do without my never-do-wrong friend? You on the other hand, well, there are plenty of aristocrats in the world..."

Christine's pale hand struck Raoul full in the face. "You -know -nothing!" she said hoarsely, "First of all, I knew that you were fine because, after the scratch was administered to your arm, you went on fighting. If you had been fallen my protest would have been the same, only Erik would have obeyed me without visible regret and never brought the matter up again." Christine threw her chocolate on the floor and grabbed her cloak. Blinking back tears, she rushed from the room.

"Where are you going?" Raoul asked indignantly.

"None of your business!" Christine called icily as she left the house.

Once out on the icy streets Christine continued to brood over the previous argument. Raoul doesn't care about me at all. She thought. He simply wanted to be a hero. 'Oh yes, I killed the phantom, right before the woman he loved eyes. On top of that, I married the girl -allow me to flaunt this achievement. True, she's rather traumatized from seeing her friend blasted to pieces, but that should pass with age.' That's how Raoul would be if his plan worked. Besides, if Erik were as evil as Raoul thinks, I would have been in terrible danger. No one who cared about someone else would do that to them!

Erik doesn't care about me either. If he did he wouldn't have lied to me. He wouldn't have shouted at me when I took off his mask. He wouldn't threaten, he wouldn't stalk, he would behave normally! The wretch!

I think I'll marry someone entirely different than Erik and Raoul. See how they like that! The man will love me and always care for me. He'll not have a talented bone in his body and he'll be as ugly as a mule, but he'll love, and that is all I care for! Who needs Erik's talents and Raoul's looks? They're both cads, hang them! I want a husband whom, after years have gone by and Erik has lost his wits and Raoul his looks, will still adore me.

As Christine walked, absorbed in her own melancholia, her thoughts fell to deep self-pity.

Nothing good ever happens to me! My father died. Why did he have to die? Why did he tell me about the angel before he died? Didn't he know that such a story would leave me susceptible to womanizers like Erik, who, in turn, would leave me susceptible to womanizers like Raoul?

Madame Giry knew about Erik, also. Raoul said she did! Why did she let me believe that he was the angel? Why did she let him do the things he did? Why didn't she protect me? She would never let her precious Meg fall into such danger! Oh no! Even though she said she adopted me, I always knew she loved her own daughter best. Maybe that was why I befriended Erik so readily.

Besides, I do care for Erik. He isn't the way Raoul says he is! He isn't! I know him better than anyone! Why, Madame Giry did the same things to him that she did to me, treating us much, much less than her own daughter. Now Erik might be hurt, or dead, or gone and I may never know! Perhaps he learned of the plot and thought I wanted him dead and went away... or worse.

Christine leaned against a building, looking across the street. She had walked all the way to the opera. Her eyes filled with tears and she felt liked a child and not at all like a woman.

Suddenly, from her left, she heard someone whistling out the tune of Past the point of No Return. She wheeled round. Strolling towards the opera was a tall, well-dressed man. The man looked at her and stopped whistling. "Why, Mlle. Daae!" The man's voice was thick with an accent, yet very attractive.

"Oui," Christine replied, supposing this was one of her newfound 'fans'.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance!" the man said, bestowing a disarming smile, "I was charmed by your performance! In my humble opinion, you made Don Juan Triumphant what it is! The part seemed to be written for you!"

"Th, thank you," Christine answered. It probably was written for me. Poor Erik...

"You saved the show! I am only sorry that you were forced to perform alongside such an old bore as that large Italian! The role of Don Juan needs youth, passion near obsession, brilliance and a fresh voice for a fresh work. That is why, I suppose, that they cast me in the role for tonight, tomorrow, and the rest of the performances. I do so look forward to playing alongside you, my diva!"

Christine was surprised, "I, well, congratulations. I'm sure you will make a wonderful Don Juan."

"So am I," the man said, grinning. He had very sharp looking teeth. "Would you care to show me the opera, Mademoiselle?"

"Of course," Christine agreed.

"Watch your step, now," the man said as the crossed the road.

"What is your name, Monsieur?"

"Phelan," he replied.

The two climbed the icy stairs to the opera.