On the stage, Christine had just finished her song and was greeted with thunderous applause and bouquets of flowers. Opera goers had not heard that kind of singing in many years, and they were delighted with the beautiful Christine Daae. She smiled gratefully and made her way off the stage were Madame Giry left her daughter and helped Christine get through the crowds of fans and celebrators to her new dressing room.
As they walked, Christine turned to the right hall, instead of the left, where her remote dressing room was located. She had been given the room earlier that day by the generous new managers. It was just as splendid as La Carlotta's, but also included a little bed in it, since Christine had previously been sleeping in the ballet dormitories.
Mme Giry immediately understood Christine's decision, as at the end of the right hall was the door to get the chapel. Christine would want to be with the spirit of her father to celebrate her success. "Christine, you did well tonight," she said as she left the girl at the door of the church. Christine smiled to show her thanks, and turned to go inside. She picked up some of her heavy white skirts and gracefully sat down in a corner of the chapel where a picture of her father and candles were set up. Christine thought of her father and lite a candle in his honor. When he had talked of her becoming a star, she had always thought that he'd be there with her. But he had been dead for over ten years.
"Brava, Brava, Bravissima..." her angel congratulated her, his voice floating down from the high heavens. She smiled and looked around the room. Her angel's presence already made her begin to feel better. "Where in the world have you been hiding? You were perfect! I only wish I knew your secret, who is your great tutor?"
Christine jumped, then looked down shyly as Meg gracefully came into the chapel with a slightly scolding smile. Christine had never told anyone about the Angel, he had been her secret for years. But Meg was her closest friend, besides the angel, and Christine debated on whether she should finally tell her about him. She looked at the picture of her father, then murmured,''Father once spoke of an Angel, and I used to dream he'd appear. But when I came here, Meg, as a child, I learned that the Angel is real.Whenever I sing, he's there! I know he's always with me, he, the unseen genius!"
Meg noticed a difference in Christine as soon as she began to talk of an Angel of Music. She pulled Christine up, and they began to walk toward her dressing room. "Do you truly believe that?" Med asked curiously. Christine nodded, and gave a small laugh.
"Who else could he be, Meg?" Her eyes were wide and hopeful, and it alarmed the blond ballerina.
Meg couldn't decide to believe her friend or not. "Christine, you must have been dreaming. Stories like yours don't come true." The more Meg thought about Christine's words, the more disturbed she was. A strange man was singing to Christine, disguising himself under the facade of an angel. That was blasphemy, in the blond's mind. Christine remained oblivious to her friend's unease.
"Angel of music! Guide and guardian, grant to me your glory!" Christine sang, the tune sounding like a lullaby. Meg recalled hearing Christine sing it before, and remembered how she had written it off as one of the songs from Christine's childhood. The soprano turned to her friend and smiled. How could she not feel the presence of the angel now? He was surely with them.
Meg mused aloud,"Who is this strange angel?" Christine shrugged her shoulders, and they continued to walk forward. Christine continued to sing, "Angel of Music, hide no longer, secret and strange angel!" A sudden burst of chilly air hit them as the reached the soprano's dressing room. Both Christine and Meg shivered. "He's with us even now, Meg..." Christine murmured. Meg shivered again at Christine's eery words.
She reached out and grasped Christine's small hands. "Your hands are cold, and your face is so white!" For a moment, Christine looked troubled. "Sometimes, he frightens me." Meg stared into Christine's eyes. Her friend's fantastic story about an angel couldn't be true, and Christine's words were only confirming it. "Don't be frightened," Meg consoled. In her mind, however, she believed that Christine had every reason to be scared. She planned to tell her mother about Christine's "angel" and leave the problem in her capable hands. The two friends bid each other goodbye, and Meg left to go celebrate with the other dancers.
Christine passed through the threshold for her dressing room, and was immediately bombarded with the smell of flowers. All the surfaces in her room were covered with every type of flower imaginable. Christine breathed in the heavenly scent and felt the soft bloom of a pink rose. A knock sounded against the door, and Mme Giry entered, baring a red rose with a black silk ribbon tied around the slim stem.
"He is pleased with you," she murmured, then left, but not before seeing the huge smile on Christine's face. Christine had never told her about the angel, but somehow, the ballet instructor had known. Christine sat down at her vanity fingering the silk bow, thinking about the angel, and what the rose might mean. He had given her similar gifts before. Christine wished he would appear before her, and physically give her the rose. She was so wrapped in thought that she didn't hear the door opening yet again.
"Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought; am I fonder of dolls or of goblins, or shoes?" Raoul said, coming into the room and bearing a somewhat garish display of pink roses. "Raoul!" Christine shouted excitedly, getting up from her chair. "Or of chocolates and frocks?" the Vicomte continued, quoting the tale that Christine's father once told them. They continued the game until it ended with Christine saying the last line, like she had as a child. There was no awkwardness as they shared a tender hug. "You sang like an angel tonight, Christine," Raoul mumbled against Christine's curls. She pulled away from his arms to stare earnestly into the Victome's blue eyes.
"Before Father died, he promised to send me the Angel to protect me. Father is dead, Raoul. And I have been visited by the Angel of Music!" she gushed. It felt natural for Christine to tell her childhood friend about her secret. Raoul answered, "No doubt about it, Christine!" He wasn't sure whether to take Christine's claim seriously. She had always had a vivid imagination as a young girl.
Christine smiled shyly, then said, "Raoul, I am delighted to see you, it's been too many years!" The Victome had grown from a mischievous boy into a very handsome man, and that fact hadn't gone unnoticed by Christine. Raoul stared at her with a hungry grin. "As am I to see you. My, Little Lotte, you sure have grown." She blushed and looked down. "So, now, how about we go to supper." Raoul had meant it as a question, but it had come out as a statement. He grinned. "We have lots of catching up to do!"
Christine looked away from his eager face. "No, Raoul, the Angel of Music is very strict. Perhaps another night." she said, but faltered. "Oh, I shan't keep you up late!" he teased, and walked towards the door. She looked at him, with her big doe eyes, and Raoul sent another grin her way. "You must change, I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte!" He gave a debonair little bow, then hurried out the door.
Christine sighed after he left. Even in that short amount of time, he had claimed some of her heart, but must he so stubborn? Christine smiled to herself. The hero of her childhood had grown into such a charming young man. Who could have imagined that they would meet again as adults? Christine thoughtfully rose from her dressing table seat. She wasn't really sure if dinner was such a bad idea, though, because it was getting late, and soon she would be hungry.
Christine went behind her screen and took off the elaborate dress with a sigh. She still had her white corset on,and she pulled on a pretty cream and white dressing gown with a neckline and bell sleeves trimmed in thick lace. The luxurious thing was a gift from the managers to celebrate her new stardom. "Well, just in case I go to dinner with Raoul..."she thought, and stepped out from behind the screen, fastening the cord. What would she wear?
"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion! Basking in your glory! Ignorant fool; this brave young suitor, sharing in mytriumph!" the Angel sang scornfully. Christine couldn't remember the last time she had heard the angel sound so angry. She looked around the room, and settled on looking at the ceiling.
"Angel! I hear you! Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me! Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me...enter at last, master!" She tried to appease his anger, and apologized for even thinking about going to dinner. Christine again wished for him to appear before her. Seeing his heavenly face would greatly appease her for missing the chance to dine with Raoul.
"Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadows I hide...look in your face in the mirror, I am there inside!" His voice had softened and slowly became more powerful as he continued his song. Christine realized that he would finally appear before her. Her heart began to pound as she joyfully sing, "Angel of Music, guide and guardian...Grant to me your glory! Angel of Music, hide no longer, come to me, strange Angel..."
She looked toward the large mirror on her wall, like her angel had commanded. The room had mysteriously darkened, and all of the candles had somehow blown out. The mirror began to shimmer. The form of a tall, regal man in dark clothes and a white mask settled behind the glass. Christine could barely breathe from her excitement.
"I am your Angel of Music...come to the Angel of Music..." The Angle murmured, his voice hypnotic and low. Christine walked toward the mirror, completely caught in his spell. She hesitantly faced the glass as he continued to sing to her, and she stared in shock as he held out a thin hand clad in black leather. "Come to the Angel of Music," he commanded, and in the background, Christine heard Raoul shouting about something. It didn't matter to her though, and she sealed her fate by placing her pale hand into his.