The performance ended in a roar of applause unlike anything I had ever heard. I was about to hurry off to my dressing room when Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer stopped me. Reyer gave me a stiff nod of approval, high praise coming from him.
"Christine, you did well. He will be pleased," Madame Giry told me in her solemn manner, but she gave me a warm, genuine smile. "Now, go back out there, they are calling your name."
"Wha-what? What do you mean?" I asked, confused.
Meg, who was peering through the closed curtain, turned and said, "They are all standing, Mama! They are shouting for Christine!"
"You see, go back out there," Madame Giry said, giving me a gentle nudge. Flustered I walked forward and stepped through the curtains, which Meg held open for me.
The bright lights blinded me for a moment, but soon I realized that everyone was standing, clapping. When they saw me cries rang out from the crowd, and a small child walked across the stage to hand me a bouquet of flowers, which I took hesitantly, my hands shaking. I managed another curtsy before I dashed backstage, leaving the audience still cheering. The curtain fell once more.
But even with all the applause, there was only one opinion that mattered, one voice I wanted to hear, to know how he felt about my performance. The Angel of Musics'.
As I walked to my dressing room Madame Giry began yelling at the chorus girls. "You were a disgrace! Such ronds de jambe! Such temps de cuisse! We will rehearse until you get it right! Now!" and she banged her walking stick onto the stage. The girls gathered around, settling into rehearsal. Some of them threw me nasty looks as I passed, but I ignored them and walked down the hall towards my dressing room.
"Bravissimi, my child…"
I gasped. The Angel! I had never heard his voice out of my dressing room! I whirled around, hoping to see him, but the only one I saw was Meg, who was hurrying to catch up to me.
"Christine!" she cried. "Where have you been hiding yourself? I haven't seen you for so long! Oh, Christine, you were perfect tonight, so much better than la Carlotta! Mama said you have been working with a new tutor. Who is he?" Meg's blue eyes shone with curiosity. She spoke rapidly, practically bouncing with excitement. She rather reminded me of a little finch.
"Your mother told about my tutor?" I asked, dropping the bouquet of flowers. About a week after the Angel had first visited me Madame Giry came to my dressing room to talk to me about how much I had improved. She suspected I had a new tutor. I had hesitantly told her of my Angel, fearing she would think me crazy, but she had accepted my story without hesitation. But I had asked her not to say anything to anyone.
"Well, no-no she did not say you did, not exactly. She just said that you had improved so much that you must have a tutor," Meg said. "At least I think that is what she said. She was talking to Monsieur Lefevre and I just overheard them talking in his office one day while I was waiting for Mama. I cannot say for sure what she said."
I looked at Meg, whom I considered to be my best friend. She had been the first to befriend me after I was hired for the chorus, and she never seemed to hold it against me that I had a private dressing room. She had listened to me talk of my father for hours on end, while she told me of her life being raised by her mother after her father left them.
I glanced around to see if anyone was near before I motioned to Meg to follow me into my dressing room. "Meg," I said as I shut the door behind us. "My father used to speak of an Angel. An Angel of Music. When he died, he told me that he would send me the Angel of Music, to guide me. I used to dream he'd appear, but he never did. Then, just after I came here, I heard him. I heard the Angel of Music! He has been speaking to me, here in this room. I can hear his voice, feel his presence, but I have never seen him. Somehow I know he's always with me, even when I cannot hear him."
Meg was silent and I began to feel panicked. Surely she thought I was mad, raving about an Angel!
She took a deep breath; "Christine," she said carefully, "You must have been dreaming. This story of yours, it just cannot be true. You have changed so much since I first met you. You have become so distant….when I talk to you it is almost as if you hardly know me. You are talking in riddles, Christine, and it is just not like you. Look at you, your face is white, and your hands, they are like ice," she said, grasping my hands.
"You do not believe me, do you? It frightens me sometimes, Meg. Sometimes I fear I am going mad…" I said softly.
Suddenly a voice rang out from the doorway of the dressing room.
"Meg Giry, are you a dancer?" Madame Giry asked sternly.
Meg nodded, looking ashamed.
"Then come and practice, now," Madame Giry said, waving Meg out of the room. Meg gave me one last look, almost frightened, before she hurried out of my dressing room.
"My dear, I was asked to give you this," Madame Giry said quietly, handing me a note before she followed Meg out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Curious, I ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single piece of paper.
A red scarf…the attic…Little Lotte.
I mused over the meaning of the note as I walked behind my dressing screen and changed into a simple white frock.
Just then there was a brisk knock on the door.
"Christine Daae, where is your scarf?"
I cocked my head at the sound of a voice which seemed vaguely familiar.
"Monsieur?" I said uncertainly as I came out from behind the dressing screen.
The door swung open and a dark haired man walked through, grinning broadly. "Surely you cannot have lost it. After all the trouble I went to! Fourteen years old and soaked to the skin…"
"Because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf! Oh Raoul!" I said incredulously. "So it is you!"
"Christine Daae, I could barely believe it when I saw you on that stage tonight!"
"Oh, Raoul, it is so wonderful to see you!" I said, grinning. Raoul quickly enveloped me into a hug. I had not seen him for years. He had grown from a gangly teenager into a very handsome young man, with his broad shoulders, wavy black hair and sparkling dark eyes. He was a handsome figure, indeed, in his black tails.
"Oh, Christine, it has been so long! I did not even know you were singing here tonight."
"I was not supposed to be, but the lead, Carlotta, was unable to perform."
"You were splendid, Christine. Your father must be so proud. Is he here tonight?" Raoul asked.
My spirits fell. "No, Raoul. He died five years ago," I said as I sat down at my dressing table and began removing my jewelry.
"Oh, Christine, I am so sorry," he said softly. "Your father was a wonderful man."
"Yes, I know," I agreed with a catch in my voice as I tried not to cry.
"He would have been so proud of you Christine. You were wonderful; everyone in the audience was talking about you and wondering about you."
I looked away, flustered. "Thank you, Raoul," I said softly.
"Do you remember those rainy spring days when your father would play his violin for us and tell us those stories?" he asked with a fond smile.
"Yes and those picnics in the attic?" I said.
Raoul laughed. "How could I forget? Oh, Christine, how I have missed you! Do you remember Little Lotte? I think of you whenever I remember that story. Little Lotte let her mind wander…"
"You remember that, too!"
"Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls…"
My voice joined his as we recited my father's favourite story. "Or of goblins, of shoes. Or of riddles, or frocks."
"I cannot remember any more," Raoul said with a laugh.
"You do not remember? 'You know what I love most, Lotte said. It's when I am asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"
"Oh, yes!" Raoul said. "The Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"
I turned in my chair and caught Raoul's eye. "Raoul, Father told me, 'When I am in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you, to guide you.' Well, after Father died I was visited by the Angel of Music!"
"No doubt of it, you were wonderful!" Raoul said dismissively. "Now, let us go to supper."
"No, Raoul, I cannot, the Angel of Music is very strict," I said, starting to feel panicked. The Angel had firm rules.
"I shan't keep you up late, I promise! I have just found you; I am not going to lose you again! You must change and I must get my hat. Two minutes, no more, Little Lotte! I will return for you," Raoul said as he stepped grasped my hand and kissed it softly, gallantly. I yanked my hand back, an odd feeling coursing through me at his touch. He turned and rushed from the room, shutting the door behind him.
"No, Raoul!" I cried, yanking the door open to look for him, but he was already gone. I went back into the dressing room and locked the door. I walked over to my dressing table and noticed, for the first time, a blood red rose tied with a black satin ribbon. It was lying atop my hand mirror. I picked up the rose, knowing there was only one who could have left it. The Angel. "Things have changed, Raoul," I said softly, brushing the soft petals of the rose against my cheek.
"Who is this ignorant fool, basking in your glory?"
I gasped at the sound of the Angel's voice. I stood up, looking frantically around the room. Where his voice was usually warm and kind, he was now cold and harsh, angry even.
"That-that was Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagney. H e-he is an old childhood friend…"
"Did I not tell you that if you are to pursue a career in music that you do not have time for frivolous activities?" the Angel asked coldly.
"Y-yes, Angel. I am sorry!"
"Christine, you were superb tonight," the Angel said softly. "Your performance was perfect. I do not like this insolent young man trying to share my triumph."
My heart skipped. He thought my performance was perfect! Somehow, though he was acting so cold, that knowledge warmed me.
"I am sorry, Angel, I was not thinking," hanging my head, shamed that I had disappointed him.
"No, you were not."
"Did-did you leave me this rose?" I asked.
"I did."
"Thank you, Angel," I said, humbly. Thoughts of Raoul flew from my head. All I could think of was that I had to see him; I had to see my Angel. I owed him so much. All of these months I had been hearing his voice in the shadows as he taught me, guided me. I had grown so close to him, my Angel, my tutor. Now I just wanted to see him, be in his heavenly presence.
"Angel, I am sorry, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. Please, Angel, let me see you." I cried.
There was a very loud silence and I feared I had driven him away completely. "Angel?"
Nothing. I began to panic, thinking that my foolishness had lost me my Angel of Music. What would I do without his guidance?
"Angel, are you here? Please, speak to me!"
"I am here, child," he said after another moment. My heart flew into my throat.
"Please, Angel, please come to me! I want to see you!" I was practically sobbing. "Please, I need you to guide me! I was weak, please forgive me, Master!"
"Flattering child," the Angel said, his voice not quite as cold as it had been. Relief flooded through me at the sound of his voice, "You wish to see me? You wish to come with me, to join me in my world?"
"Oh, yes, Angel," I said breathlessly. "Please, hide no more! Come to me, my Angel!"
"Then you shall know me and see why in shadows I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside."
I stood in front of the mirror, confused. What on earth did he mean, he was inside the mirror? My heart pounded loudly, the sound echoing in my ears. I stared hard at my reflection. My face was pale, melting into the white of my gown. The dark of my hair accentuated how pale I was, and my eyes seemed unnaturally large as I gazed at the mirror. The mirror was turning gray, almost foggy and my reflection was disappearing. Suddenly, deep in the depths of my reflection I noticed a dark figure taking shape and I gasped.
"Angel, is it you?" I asked.
"I am your Angel. Come to me," came the quiet whisper of the Angel's hypnotic voice.
I held out my hand and stepped forward, mesmerized by mirror, and even more mesmerized by the figure within.
All of a sudden the dressing room's doorknob began to rattle, but I barely noticed it.
"Whose voice is that? Who is that in there?" Raoul demanded.
The mirror then slid to the side, with a flash that blinded me. Briefly I closed my eyes and when I opened them again there was a swirl of mist and a dark figure outlined by the glowing lights coming from behind. My eyes widened, and I felt my self gaping, my mouth open in amazement.
"Come to me, my child," the Angel said, reaching out his hand. He grasped my wrist firmly, yet gently, and I gasped at his cold touch. I stepped forward, through the mirror.
I longed for a closer look at my Angel, but he turned abruptly from me and all I caught was a glint of white beneath the black fedora he wore. There was a whisper of his cloak as he turned, still holding my wrist, leading me through the murky darkness
I heard a tremendous crash from behind me, as apparently Raoul burst through the door, but the mirror had already slid shut behind me. I could barely Raoul's voice, sounding panicky, as he shouted; "Christine! Angel!"