Summer 1860:
Madame Daaé is eight months pregnant and her belly's so swollen she can barely see her feet. "Dear," she calls to her husband, "Help me sit."
Monsieur Daaé sets down his violin and helps his wife into the chair next to the fireplace. "What shall we name the boy?" She asks.
"Oh I don't know," her husband responds, "We don't know the sex yet."
"Well we can just call him Chris then. That way we just add an I-N-E if it's a girl."
"That's quite clever" Monsieur Daaé says.
Mama Daaé rubbed her belly, and after a short pause, she says, "I hope it's a boy. I don't want to worry about her ending up with the wrong guy."