September 16th 1892: Raoul
Neither Christine nor I had slept much in the rest of the night. After we had agreed on what to do, everyone had gone to bed, except for Gabriel, who of course had been in bed all the time. My wife and I had tried our best to sleep, but it hadn't worked. On the rare occasions when we had managed to doze a little, the softest sound had been enough to make our eyes snap open again. And there had been many sounds. Even though the broken windows had been covered with blankets hanging from the walls like particularly dull tapestries, small sounds had come from the garden and the streets. I hadn't known our quiet neighbourhood could be that loud.
When Christine had eventually drifted off to an exhausted sleep, her last words had been: "Thank you for doing that for me.". This had given me reason to think endlessly about whether my decision had been right. Facing the kind of problems I had, sleep had seemed like a ridiculous idea. But then, my night-time pondering hadn't been very effective either. The only result I had got was a slight headache the next morning.
Even now, on my way to the opera, I was thinking about the very same things. I had a lot of time to do so, since I had refused Jacques' offer to drive me. Maybe a walk in the fresh morning air would make my headache go away. Besides, I didn't need another person to discuss my problems with. It was more than enough to discuss them with myself.
Christine had been pleased that I had agreed with her idea right away, without any objections. What she didn't know was that I had had the same idea moments before her, yet I wouldn't have admitted it, not even to myself. For some reason it had been easier to accept it as hers. After all, it was normal for her to think of him as a good solution. I, on the other hand, still thought me a little insane for coming up with it.
Asking the Phantom to protect my family! Even when I only repeated it in my head, it sounded like a ludicrous idea. It was like sending a wolf to protect a flock of sheep, with the important difference that those sheep were the people who meant most to me in the world. Of course I hadn't told my wife about that impression. To her, that man was a saint. Despite all the things he had done to her, she still seemed to trust him.
And he loved her. Wasn't it strange that one of the facts I hated most of all had been the main reason for deciding that the Phantom was the right man for the task? Admittedly I could have hired other people for my family's protection, but I could have never relied on them completely. A little money in the right moment made many people look away and let bad things happen. He would never do that. No matter how much I didn't like him, I could be sure of his loyalty.
Or couldn't I? There was still a little part of me that thought he was the one responsible for the box and the attack, despite everything Christine had said. That little part thought him capable of a lot of evil things in order to get what he wanted… namely my wife. If it had indeed been his plan to give her the feeling that she only was safe with him, he had succeeded. I couldn't even blame her. At the moment our house wasn't the most secure place to be.
So I was on my way to the opera now. Briefly I had considered going there last night, but I hadn't liked the idea of leaving my family alone any sooner than I had to. Moreover, I hadn't seen why I should approach him at his favourite time. As soon as he'd realise what I wanted, he'd become insolent enough without me making it any easier for him.
That was also one of the reasons why I hadn't taken Christine with me. The mere idea that she could stand in his home, talking about our problem in her soft voice while he sneered at me, letting her praise him for being generous and helping us, made my headache increase. It was bad enough that I had to humiliate myself. I didn't need any witnesses.
In order to cope with my nervousness I applied a strategy I had often used before difficult conversations: I practiced them in my head, trying to predict what the other person would say and how I'd react. Yet in this case it was nearly impossible. The Phantom was the most unpredictable person I had ever met. The only thing I could be sure of was that in the end he'd agree, for the sake of Christine and the children. This knowledge should have made me calmed, but it didn't work. All I could do was imagine his ironic smile and the snide remarks he'd make over and over again. But the time I reached the opera the intensity of my headache had doubled.
My wife had described the way down to the cellars to me, for I hadn't been able to recall it. My journey down there was an experience I preferred not to think about. Yet even thought I knew the way now, I was reluctant to go. It was true that the entire opera was in his power, and still I felt safer on the floors above ground. Irrational fear welled up inside me, showing me pictures of him making me vanish from the face of the earth once and for all times. I shivered.
It occurred to me that maybe the Phantom was not in his lair anyway, but causing chaos on the stage or scaring the poor stagehands. He could also be sitting in Box Five. Yes, that was a good thought. The boxes were a place I could get to without problems. If someone saw me and asked what I was doing there, I could claim I had been to the first night and had lost something. And even if he wouldn't be in his box, he'd surely notice the disturbance and come to throw me out. Besides, there was a certain irony in the fact that I would welcome him in his favourite place, just like he had done it in my living room a few days ago.
I didn't meet anyone on my way to the boxes. The reason soon became clear to me as I heard the faint sound of the orchestra: There was a rehearsal taking place. Within minutes I had reached Box Five. It wasn't even locked, which I thought a little strange. But then, why should I complain about something that was my advantage? I simply went inside. No one was there. I decided against sitting down. Provoking the Phantom a little by coming here was all right, but I didn't want to risk being killed without him listening to what I had to say.
The curtains were open, so that I could see what was happening on stage. About a dozen unhappy-looking chorus girls were dancing a passage that I recognised as a part of the second act of the opera I had attended two days ago. Mme.Giry stood on the right-hand side, brandishing her walking cane like a dangerous weapon.
"No, no, no!" she called. "Listen to the rhythm, Mesdemoiselles! The rhythm is supposed to support your dance, so don't work against it! You have to flow on it, then the elegance will come quite naturally."
A few moments later the passage was over. Yet before the ballet mistress could signal the conductor to start again, a girl with auburn hair dared object.
"But Mme.Giry, why do we have to practice all this over and over again?" she asked, her bright voice so loud that I could easily hear her. "After the first night you told us we had been good. Even the newspaper said so…"
"Yesterday you were not good," Mme.Giry interrupted her. "I have received a very angry letter of the Opera Ghost this morning, saying there will be serious consequences unless your dancing improves considerably. I know some of you think a couple of blue faces weren't that tragic, but I can assure you that was nothing but a warm up for the Ghost. So we'll practice. Anyone who has objections is free to go." She pointed at the door with her cane. The girl with the auburn hair shook her head, looking mortified, as if she was already deeply regretting her brief act of rebellion. On a second wave of the cane the music started again, and so did the dancing.
"Lovely, aren't they?" a soft voice next to me asked conversationally, making me jump. I hadn't noticed the moment when the Phantom had joined me. He was simply here.
"Quite," I said shortly, wary because I didn't know what he was up to. Friendliness didn't mean anything good with this man. "You're writing letters again?"
"Oh, I never stopped doing that," he replied readily. "They just decreased in number and frequency, but I intend to change that. What about you? You're sneaking after me again? Or are you planning to tell me you're here to watch the chorus girls?"
"Of course not," I answered indignantly. "I'm here because I… we need your help." Now it was out. The first step was done. Quickly, before the courage to do so left me again, I explained what had happened. "And we think you're the only person who's able to protect my family in my absence," I finished, looking at him expectantly. He hadn't made a single insolent remark yet, which was rather unnerving. The expression on his face was devoid of emotion.
At last he smiled. It was the relaxed, complacent smile of a man who was playing cards, knowing from the beginning he'd win, but not showing it in order to make losing worse for the other players in the end.
"Of course I'll help you," he declared. "But there are a couple of… conditions…"