Chapter 5

It was only an illusion,

My hope and my belief!

-La Traviata, Act II

"Great Heavens!" Meg exclaimed.

It was just after rehearsal. She and Christine were sitting in Square Louvois, a tidy little park near the Opéra. Christine had chosen a secluded bench so she could confide in Meg without fear of listening ears. She had told her everything that had happened with the Angel (no, he wasn't the Angel, she reminded herself; he was a man, a dreadful man), with the sole omission of the detail of the mask.

"Whatever you do, please don't tell anyone about this," Christine said hurriedly when she'd finished. "Not Marie Jammes, and certainly not Cecile Sorelli- she is on terms with Philippe de Chagny, you know, and she would be sure to tell him, and then he might tell Raoul-"

"-Why not?" Meg demanded. "Shouldn't the other girls be warned?"

"Because... because I have been the most complete imbecile!" Suddenly Christine's face crumpled in a sob.

Meg jumped. "Oh, kitten," she cooed, grabbing Christine's hand. "You were lonely. You were only a child when this all began. Of course you wanted to trust the people who helped you."

Christine nodded, taking this in. Already Meg's frank kindness was banishing the fretful darkness from her mind. "I suppose, but..."

"Besides, your singing really has become extraordinary," Meg went on. "You always had a beautiful voice, of course, but now..." She shook her head, for once at a loss for words. "You're not the only person who thought there was something miraculous about it."

Christine shook her head in wonderment. "You're being so kind," she sniffled. "But still... please don't tell any of the girls. I'm not sure the others would be so understanding."

"Very well. I won't for the time being. But we must tell someone." Meg put an encouraging hand on Christine's shoulder. "I know it's late, but I think we ought to go to the management today. Or the police, even."

Christine stiffened. "What?"

"We probably ought to go to the police, and we should certainly tell the management about this," Meg said. "Now, before they leave. They may have some idea what to do. After all, they have been dealing with other strange incidents-"

"-No!" Christine cried, brushing away the last of her tears.

"What?" Meg shrieked.

"Well, we can't go to the police; he hasn't done anything illegal. And surely you don't think I'm going to tell anyone that I thought an angel was talking to me for all these years?" Christine scoffed. She was furious with herself over how absurd the idea sounded, now that she said it aloud in broad daylight. "Everyone already thinks I am mad - the little foreigner with her head in the clouds."

"No-"

"Oh, but yes!" Christine protested. "This would be the final proof they need. I shall be lucky if I don't find myself locked up in some institution."

"Well, then take the Vicomte de Chagny with you," Meg suggested.

"What?" Christine's eyebrows flew up.

"If you're with him, they won't dare sneer at you," Meg said.

"I will do no such thing!" Christine cried. "Can you imagine me telling him about this?"

"Easily. Fling yourself into his arms." To demonstrate, Meg draped herself dramatically across the park bench, causing an expensively dressed couple who were passing by to stare and then hurry away. "Throw yourself on his mercy. Plead for his protection." She folded her arms around herself and swayed dreamily back and forth. "Tell him you won't feel safe without his help. He'll love that. The dear young man is crying out to be some fair young damsel's knight- he'll eat that up with a spoon. You'll have him wrapped around your little finger before dusk. Voilà." She dusted off her hands.

"No," Christine said roundly. "Raoul would think I was a fool if he ever heard this story. I cannot bear being thought of that way by him. Or by anyone."

Meg's reply unpleasantly surprised her. "That's very noble, but I'm awfully afraid you will have to learn to tolerate it one way or another. Every man will think his woman is a fool at some point or another."

"No-"

"-It's just the way of things. At least the Vicomte would think you're a charming one."

Christine looked away- not before her friend saw the reluctant look on her face, however.

Meg threw up her hands. "What do you expect me to do, ducky? I can't just sit here and do nothing after what you've told me! A masked man has been-"

"Shhhh!"

Meg glared at the interruption. "-A masked man has deceiving you to gain your trust," she went on in an exaggerated whisper, "and you won't let me go to the police or alert the management or even tell our friends!" Returning to her usual voice, she added, "You've tied my hands. Why did you tell me of this if you're only going to let me worry without letting me doing anything about the matter?"

"Meg, please do not mistake me, I am truly grateful that you are concerned for my well-being-"

"-Anyone who cared for you would be," Meg said. "Listen, dear, I don't think you're a crazy foreigner, and I certainly don't think you ought to be in any institution (other than a musical one)... But you've been lonely for so long and suffered so much and I'm awfully afraid this Erik fellow is clever enough to use that against you," Meg said, with real distress in her eyes.

"I see what you must be thinking," Christine said. "But his air, his whole manner gave me cause to feel reassured."

"Oh, indeed!" Meg laughed.

"-His behavior was entirely respectable-"

"-Respectable?" Meg broke in, outraged. "He admitted he's been deceiving you-"

"-Precisely," Christine interrupted in turn. "He admitted it. If he had any malicious plans based around that scheme of deception, why would he give it up?"

"But what possible respectable reason could there be for any of this?" Meg said. "No one does anything just for nothing. The whole thing is awfully suspicious!"

"I don't know," Christine admitted. "But please, listen - I assure you, I do not value my pride above my safety. You have my word, if anything he does from this moment on gives me even the slightest cause for concern, I will tell the management, and let them think what they will of me."

"Very well." Meg stopped suddenly. "Then do you expect to see him again?"

"What choice do I have? If I lose him, I lose my lessons."

"Yes, but-"

"-Please," Christine said. "You know this is a matter of the utmost importance to me."

"I didn't think it was this important."

"It is," Christine said. "My voice is the only gift I have."

"Oh, aside from beauty, intelligence, charm, an enviable figure-"

"Thank you. But... singing is the closest I come to... to the divine, to better, higher things. God gave it to me for some reason and I must do everything I can with what He has entrusted to me. Do you see?"

"Yes. I suppose so." Meg sighed sadly. "I'm not like you, you know. Not in that way. I don't yearn for the great unknown. I think I see the general idea you're getting at. But..." She trailed off.

"There is something else," Christine said.

"Yes?"

"It is difficult to explain." Christine hesitated. "I... I would miss him if he went away altogether, Meg."

"Miss him?" Meg stared at him in alarm. "You don't even know him! You are getting him confused with the Angel."

"But in a way, he is the Angel. To have had him for ten years and then for him to simply disappear..."

"Christine," Meg said in concern. "You-"

"-As I said, I will go to the management if I have any concern from this moment onwards," Christine promised. "I'm not so careless as you think, you know," she teased, though with a serious edge to her voice.

"Yes, I know," Meg admitted at last. "You're a sensible girl."

"Thank you," Christine said quietly.

Meg thought, and Christine watched her face in suspense, waiting for a verdict.

"But listen, you must be very careful," Meg said at last.

Christine's whole face brightened at once. "Thank you!" she said in a quite different tone than before.

"Why do you say thank you? Would you have done any differently if I had said no?" Meg pointed out wryly.

"No, I suppose not." Christine smiled briefly. "But it makes me feel a great deal better." She paused, and a grin spread over her face. "Besides, you might blackmail me."

"I would never blackmail you!" Meg said.

"And those are the words of a lady?" Christine cried, feigning a look of outrage. "Have you forgotten when I had that ridiculous crush on Martin Dubois and you made me give you your dessert every day that month to keep it a secret?"

Meg had the decency to blush. "I was only twelve."

"You were fourteen!"

"Well, I am older and wiser now."

"Older, but no wiser," Christine shot back.

"Hmph. Well, I would never blackmail you about this. It's much too serious to be taken lightly." Meg paused. "You must promise you will be careful. Listen - when you go, take the knife Maman made you buy. Or I can lend you mine if you don't have yours."

Christine winced. "I take mine everywhere. Even though you know I hate it. I keep mine with me because you made me promise you I would."

"Good," Meg said. "I'm glad. But listen, don't just have it with you. Make sure it's out where he can see it. He needs to know you're not afraid to defend yourself."

"But it would be terribly rude," Christine protested. "Worse than rude! It would be... why, there isn't a word for it, even, it's-"

"-Ducky, I swear I won't leave your side for a moment if you don't promise me!" Meg shouted.

At last, Christine sighed. "Very well."

Meg relaxed. "Thank you, dear. Oh, and one more thing- you're staying with Maman tonight. You're not going home by yourself. I don't want this 'Erik' - not a very trustworthy name; is it? - do you suppose he's Prussian? well, anyhow - following you home."

"I confess I like the idea of having someone there," Christine admitted. "And..." A sparkle came into her eyes. "...If I may say so, I'm awfully fond of her chocolate gateau, and I understand she made one recently."

Meg grinned. "Be careful. There's only one slice left- we may have to fight a duel for it."

"A duel to win the honor of its affections?" Christine said.

"Precisely," Meg said, waving a fist in the air. "And you should know that I shall roundly defeat you."

They laughed.

"Poor little Martin Dubois," Meg said suddenly, looking reminiscent. "What possessed you to have a crush on him I shall never understand. He never did find out, did he?"

"No. You were as good as your word," Christine said pointedly. "I suppose you realized it was to your advantage to keep your leverage."

"Well, it's just as well for you," Meg decided. "He's grown uncommonly fat these days."

"Meg!" Christine burst into laughter.

As the they made their way back to Madame Girys' appartement later that evening- Meg was going out again to the café-dansants but had insisted on seeing Christine back there first- they were giggling and chattering like children. But beneath their merriment was a much a bleaker picture. Meg was painfully aware of how little she understood what was going on with Christine's mysterious teacher, and it frightened her.

Christine, however, was excited for the next day. She couldn't think why, and that frightened her even more.

End of Chapter 5