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Lifeless.
That's how Christine would describe the Opera House now. Lifeless. A woman passing by turned her head and Christine realized she said the word aloud. And it sounded eerie. The Paris Opera was her home for more than half of her life and since first days it was full of life. She meant not only those glorious evenings when the entrance beamed with golden light, and the highest Paris society gathered here to dazzle the world with the brilliance of their dresses and wittiness of remarks. However little time ballet rats had before the performance Meg and Christine always tried to slip away and leaning over banisters stared at the this luxury and imagined themselves being one of these lazily graceful ladies with melodious laughter surrounded by no less than several handsome admirers - but Madame Giry's strict voice quickly put an end to their dreamings. She never made any difference between her own daughter and an adopted one and constantly repeated to both of them her favourite saying: 'Never trust your eyes. No one knows what the brilliant outside may hide and it's only in your soul that the true beauty lies'. They grunted then though never daring to retort... Blissful childhood! Now one of these little girls was staying at the entrance of the building that once was her home in a long velvet dress skillfully embroidered with golden threads and her heart broken in two. How much she wished to return those days when a beautiful dress could make her happy! When Opera House was alive and the air itself shone with splendour and sang with the beauty that was born on the stage...
But it was not only in the evening when the Opera was alive. No, even in the grey mornings when lights were turned off and the tired auditory left to their homes, when the dazzling prima donna was washing her face from the thick layer of stage make-up and dead-tired ballet girls dreamt no more of dresses but of getting to their beds, even then the Opera was alive. You could place your head against a wall, close your eyes and listen... Perhaps you'd hear a distant humming or rattling... or nothing definite.. but anyway you'd feel like a man who's listening to the sound of waves in a seashell. You'd hear life. You'd feel it. Christine never could put her finger on this strange sensation, nor explain it to anybody but she knew it to be more than just a figment of her imagination.
But not now. As Christine stepped into the cool darkness of the Opera hall she took a glove off her hand and touched the walls. And shuddered for she couldn't find the comfort she was seeking for. Though this was no news to her last days.
Ever since the night of Don Juan Triumphant. Since the night when she left her Angel. Steps were heard in the distance and Christine hurriedly drew her hand back.
'Madame Giry!' she smiled. She was truly glad to see Meg's mother. Antoinette Giry was mother for her as well.
'Christine! What are you doing here alone? I thoght that after your wedding Raoul won't let you anywhere on your own,' the older woman looked at her adopted daughter more attentively now. Yes, Christine Daae was dressed better than ever in her life but her face was pale and her eyes were glistening feverishly.
'Christine, what happened?'
'I..' the singer stopped. She turned away but Antoinette wasn't one of those whose question you may ignore.
'I"m coming back to the Opera.'
'Why don't you stay with Raoul? Aren't you going to be married?'
Christine slowly shook her head.
'Not anymore. We're too different. I... ' she trailed off and hid her face in her hands. 'Oh, madame Giry, how wrong I was, what have I done!'
The woman hugged her adopted daughter.
'Shh, my dear, you have done nothing wrong. You did what you heart told you and wishes of the heart don't always come true. Everything will be fine, don't cry, mon ange... So you've left Raoul, am I right?'
Christine nodded, still sniffing into her shoulder. They stood for a while in complete silence.
'And what are you going to do now?'
What she's going to do now... She has no idea, to be frank, she just wanted to run back to her simple life. She loved Raoul in a way but love turned out to be not enough to overcome the precipice of prejudices and misunderstandings... Why wasn't she supposed to sing when becoming a member of Chagny's family? Why couldn't she go anywhere without asking permission first? Why did all those Comtes and Vicomtes staring at her as if she were some kind of cockroach? But more than that she couldn't drive off the thoughts of him.. her Angel whom she abandonned to the darkness. His voice was following her everywhere, and his eyes... 'those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore.'
She rose her head determinedly from Madame Giry's shoulder.
'I'm going to see my Angel.'
Madame Giry quickly averted her eyes and Christine felt her heart sink. My God, let me not be too late!
'Is he still here? Please, I need to know' she begged.
'I"m sorry, my dear,' Antoinette Giry replied quietly.
'No one has seen him since that night. Meg has found his mask...' she let the sentence trail off but it was obvious what she meant.
'Come on, my dear,' Christine was pushed inside the Opera House along the passages she knew so well. The girl moved almost automatically. This can't be, this is not true.. Angels don't die! But he's no angel, a dark voice in her head whispered. He was a man, and you betrayed him.
'Good morning, madame Giry,' a cheerful voice greeted her. It took Christine some time to realize it was monsieur Andre.
'Mademoiselle Daae!' he exclaimed upon seeing Christine. 'Or should I address to you as Madame de Chagny now?'
'No,' she replied dryly. 'I'm not married.'
'You know mademoiselle,' Andre kept babbling, 'you're always welcomed here. After this horrible monster's death there's no one to haunt us all and we could...'
But Christine could listen to this no more. Blood was throbbing in her head and she wished she had a Punjab lasso in her head to stop this old fool from telling such things about him... Madame Giry must have felt her mood as she quickly muttered some excuse and practically dragged Christine to her room. It's only there that she let the girl go and made her sit down.
'Now,' she told, 'calm down. You need this first of all before making any decisions. You can stay here as long as you want until you feel ready to return to the world.'
But Andre's words broke some inner dam in Christine's heart and all the bitterness that was accumulating within her during the last months overwhelmed the girl. She betrayed her Angel, the only one who truly cared about her and helped her through the darkest moments of her life, and now those fools who were frightened to death at the mere sound of his voice spoke so lightly about his death... What a short memory they have. Maybe it's time to remind them of something.
When Christine rose her head, Madame Giry needed all of her composure not to shudder. And when the singer spoke her voice held enough determination to trust the seriousness of her intentions.
'I can't let them speak about him in such a way. Maybe it's time to resurrect the Phantom.'
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What do you think about it? Am I to continue? Terrible? Readable? (pacing the room nervously)
Please, say something...
