Christine Daae (now Countess de Chagny) was finishing up her journal entry with the date.
""Raoul, what is the date today?"" She asked her husband, who was almost asleep.
""May 2nd""
Christine now wrote on the piece of notebook paper that she had recorded the day''s events on
""May 2nd, 1917"". She was amazed at how almost fifty years had passed since the opera house incident. She sat at her vanity in deep thought. She thought about the angel, how he had pined for her. She remembered how she had admired him so. She would never forget his guardianship... ""Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory! Angel of music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!"" The words, still occupying her mind all those years. She remembered she had left him all broken and bruised from the emotional torment. She hadn''t given him much thought that night. She pitied him so. ""How is he doing, what happened to him?"" she thought. She did love him... a bit. She decided that she had made the right choice. While she had been thinking, she was absentmindedly staring into the mirror of her vanity. She liked the way she looked. She looked nothing at all like the sixty-three year old that she was. She grew tired, and went quietly to her bed, although, about half-way there, she stopped dead in her tracks. The thought had just come to her, she looked forever young, and people thought you were a witch, an evil witch, if you were, youthful for your life. She stood there, anxious and panicked, trying to think of something she could do, she didn''t want to die! She started pacing, nervously she kept putting the lamp on and off her vanity, clenching her fists, knuckles white with the pressure. After a few minutes of this tense thought, she breathed a sigh of relief (quietly, as not to wake Raoul). She picked up her lamp one last time, and went to kiss her family goodbye, she was leaving. She could see no alternative. Full of grief for leaving, she gently walked down the corridor, and poked her head into the room which her son Gaston and his wife, Marie, shared. She softly kissed her son the forehead, and went into the room where her granddaughter Belle, slept. The kissed the infant as well, and finally ran out from the gates. As she passed the groves of trees that surrounded the manor, she realized that she had no place to go. She stopped awhile by her favorite tree to think of a place to go. She had never been there so late at night before. She figured that it was about midnight. She found it rather relaxing, the owls softly hoooing, and the crickets chirping out the sweet melody of spring. All of a sudden, she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, she was being watched. Ever so cautiously, she looked around her. Left, right, up, back, everywhere she looked, things were as calm and serene as the stories she heard as a girl from mythology. She went back into thought
""Perhaps the ruins of the opera house, no that''s too obvious, I am so afraid to be found, but then again, perhaps the phantom will be there, I so wish to know what became of him! Oh, who am I kidding, he''s likely been dead years now!"" Just then, the feeling came back, she knew for certain now that she was being watched, but just as she got up, to run off, there came a knock to the back of her head, which knocked her down. She was being robbed! She never thought such criminals lived near the manor. The man had something wooden, and was beating her fiercely, with many a blow to the face and head, likely to knock her out, so he could take her things, without her fighting back. Once the man had beaten her, and taken her purse, he left her bleeding and unconscious by the trees.