August 27th 1892: Christine
Everything went surprisingly smoothly for a few weeks. At least to some extend Raoul´s job was to blame for it. Since he had returned from Oslo he seemed to be growing busier with each day that passed. Every morning more letters for him arrived, and he had so many meetings over lunch that he started to get worried about putting on weight. Under normal circumstances I´d have scolded him for such vanity, but at the moment I was glad that he had something else on his mind and forgot to ask questions about Philippe´s teacher.
I never found out what exactly that teaching included. Sometimes I saw my son brood over Antoinette´s discarded picture books, so I assumed reading was part of the lessons. Yet I couldn´t be certain. My usually so talkative child had grown very quiet about that subject. Surely his teacher forbade him to talk to me about it.
Of course I could have asked ´Uncle Erik´ myself. It wouldn´t have taken more than to accept his frequently repeated invitations for tea. Yet our brief meetings had strict rules, which we both obeyed without knowing the reason. I brought Philippe to the Rue Scribe entrance and Erik picked him up. Usually we both said ´Good morning!´, then he told me when my son´s lessons would be finished for the day. This routine was only interrupted when he asked me to have tea with him, which I refused. Then I left again, barely two minutes after I had come. In the afternoon Philippe was already waiting outside when I arrived in the coach. Erik never showed up at that time.
All that was beginning to get seriously on my nerves, but there was nothing I could do against it. It was as if our newly formed relationship was made of glass. The smallest mistake could make it shatter, and my son would have to pay for my wrong-doing. I´d rather live with the uncertainty than take such a risk. After all, I had no idea of Erik´s current state of mind. For all I knew he could have still been dangerous.
It was weeks after the start of his lessons that I noticed that first changes in Philippe´s behaviour. One morning I entered his bedroom as usual and called: "Wake up, my dear! It´s already eight o´clock.". Being quite the early riser he sat up at once and smiled at me. Yet when I opened the curtains he shrank back in horror. "The light is much too harsh! Make it go away!", he cried, desperately trying to avoid every last bit of sunshine by clapping his hands over his eyes. "It´s blinding me!"
As I spun around to look at him the curtain glided out of my grasp and fell shut. Immediately the child´s agony vanished and he breathed a sigh of relief, letting his arms sink again. "Thank you, Maman…", he muttered, still sounding a little weak. "I´m sorry, my dear.", I said, sitting down next to him. Pressing his small body against mine and placing his head at my chest I rocked him back and forth slowly. "That´s all his fault.", I mumbled angrily. "You spend so much time underground that you hardly know the sun anymore."
"I don´t like the sun anyway.", Philippe declared, lifting his head and glancing at me almost defiantly. "And I don´t like the day either. Uncle Erik told me so many stories about how wonderful the night is. Why do I always have to go to bed so early and miss it? Can´t I simply sleep at day-time?" I could hardly believe what I heard. As I didn´t want my son to notice how furious I was getting I took a deep breath to calm down. Then I explained: "Everybody sleeps at night and is awake at day: the flowers, the animals… and we humans as well.".
It was astonishing how quickly my child found a counterargument. "Uncle Erik doesn´t sleep at night.", he said with a hint of triumph. "He composes or he reads or he walks around in the opera to check whether everything is all right. It is his opera, after all, and he has to make sure that the work has been done correctly and no one deceives him. So if he doesn´t sleep, why can´t I do the same?" As I took in all this something in me snapped. I couldn´t bear listening to Erik´s words pouring from my innocent son´s lips anymore. "Because he´s not normal!", I cried. "He´s not like you and me. He´s a… a monster!"
For a moment it was so quiet that one could have heard a pin drop. Then Philippe freed himself out of my embrace. Getting to his feet he whispered: "How can you say that? I like Uncle Erik. And I thought you liked him as well…". I saw tears glistening in his blue eyes. "I didn´t mean it like that…", I muttered. Yet he was already running out of the room, away from his cruel and heartless mother. Quickly I stood up as well and dashed after him. Whatever it would take me, I had to make sure he wouldn´t tell Erik about what I had said.
Erik"She called me a WHAT?", I yelled. The fury inside me was so strong that I could hardly breathe. Gasping for air I looked around me at what had been a perfectly normal dressing room merely minutes before. Now all chairs and the table were knocked over, and everything that had been on them lay on the floor. A vase was broken; the pieces were scattered next to single flowers, crusts of bread and stockings. The chorus girls would have a lot of work till they´d be able to use their room again. But then, that was none of my concern.
Finally my gaze fell on the person crouched in the corner. She was trembling all over and stared at me, as if she feared my outburst could be extended with her as my next target. "A m-m-monster.", she repeated timidly. "But I´m s-sure she didn´t want to sound that harsh. I shouldn´t have told you.Bbut I was afraid Philippe could mention it. Then you´d have… attacked him. Oh, if he had seen this!" Her face was very pale, and I could make out drops of cold sweat on her forehead.
Despite the seriousness of the situation I had to chuckle. "I have no intentions of attack the child… ever.", I stressed. "Nor will I harm you. After all, you´ve been quite helpful in the past, and I still need you. So get up from the floor and stop acting like a terrified girl!" Jacqueline complied hastily, nearly stumbling over the hem of her dress. "Can I go now?", she asked, inching into the direction of the door.
"I suppose so.", I answered. "Or did anything else happen afterwards?" She shook her head, not daring to meet my eye. "Madame de Chagny left as well and went after Philippe. I don´t know what they talked about in his room. Antoinette called for me because she needed my help, so I couldn´t listen anymore." "Very well. You may go.", I muttered with a dismissive gesture. "But don´t forget to keep me informed. Otherwise your sister could find herself out in the street all of a sudden. And who knows what could happen to a pretty girl like her all alone…" The snapping shut of the door told me that Jacqueline hadn´t heard the threat at all. She was already gone.
I stayed a little longer in the room, our usual meeting place. It was the one I had given Christine singing lessons in so many years ago. Now it belonged to the chorus girls, yet it still had the small mirror, which was ideal for communication. Usually I remained at the other side of the wall as I knew about my menacing appearance. But this time I had wanted to be menacing. So I had entered the room through the secret door I had added a few months ago. And it had worked. In the future the maid would think twice about keeping information from me.
The longer I gazed at the chaos I had produced, the angrier I became. I had calmed down slightly for Jacqueline´s sake. After all, I had only intended to intimidate her, and not to harm her physically. But now the fury was boiling in my veins again. How could Christine have had the audacity to call me a monster? She had been one of the few people who had treated me like a person. Only a few weeks ago she had told her children that she liked me. Apparently that was no longer true. Maybe it had never been true.
My hands clenched into fists as I felt the overwhelming urge to destroy, to hurt… to kill. So I was nothing but a monster. Well, in this case it was about time that my precious Countess learned what this monster was capable of.