"Loud applause has never sounded so good!" Christine laughed as she was helped out of her large dress. "And you deserved it." Mme Giry answered with a rare smile. The resumed performance of Il Muto had started off shaky, but Christine had shone through with her ethereal voice, and the rest of the cast seemed to have gained confidence after hearing her sing to make it a memorable show. "Can you believe the season is over! Time seems to fly!" Meg breezed into the dressing room, already changed into her normal dress. "I can't believe that I've been promoted to lead ballerina though. It will be weird to watch the entertainment at the yearly masquerade instead of preform in it." She added as Christine sighed with relief as she stepped out of the heavy skirt. They all chatted as if everything was normal while Christine washed off her white face powder, like that a man hadn't been hung while while an opera was being sung. "Christine, you're fairly glowing! Is there good news?" The little dancer asked curiously after she saw her friend's clean face.
"Yes. But I'm afraid I can't tell you yet. I need some time to figure it all out..." She said distractedly, and smiled at her private thoughts. "It probably has to do with Raoul!" Meg whispered loud enough to her mother that so that her friend could easily hear, and Christine blushed. Mme Giry had a different reaction, and took a sharp intake of breathe, then whispered. "Christine, little one, if your news does in fact have to do with Raoul, it might be best to keep it a secret when your at the opera house. Hmmm, many jealous dancers and such." Christine's happy grin faded as she realized that Mme Giry did not mean dancers, but an mad composer. "Good advice, Madame." She responded, then in a cheerier tone, chirped, "Well, I must go find Raoul! I shall see you all tomorrow."
"Lotte!" Raoul's smile could light a thousand candles it was so bright. "Raoul!" The singer answered, and he picked her up and twirled her in a happy circle. "I must go ring shopping!" He spoke into her ear, then let her down. Christine's doubts that she had dreamed up the rooftop song vanished, and she nestled her arm into his as they left the opera house. "Where are we going?" She asked curiously as he helped her into his carriage then settled himself in. "To have dinner with my family, I must reintroduce them to my fiancée!" The Vicomte explained happily, and tucked her cloak snugly around her shoulders. "Oh!" She gasped, and straightened her dress. "I'm not dressed up! I....I...oh.." Christine remembered his parents from his summer visits during her childhood. They were beautiful and elegant and spoke with accents and seemed like characters from a book. "They remember you, its not a big thing, darling." He comforted her, and it occurred to Christine that she hadn't told him of her plans. "Raoul, will you introduce me as your sweetheart, and not your fiancée? I'm not comfortable announcing that we are engaged yet." She lied smoothly, and it secretly scared her at how believable she sounded. He looked at her questioningly, but said, "If thats what you want, Little Lotte. I'll give you time." She smiled gratefully, and the rest of the long carriage ride was silent.
"Bonjour, foppy. Wow, this must be Christine! Welcome to our house!" Phillipe de Chagny greeted the couple at the doors of his family's mansion. Raoul grimaced at the nickname, and gave his little brother a "playful" shove which sent him nearly tumbling to the ground. "Hello." Christine said politely, and held back a giggle as she watched her future brother-in-law jump back up and smile cockily.
"Mlle Daae, my brother did not do you justice. Your even more beautiful then he said...." He kissed her hand, then regretfully gave her back to his brother. Phillipe was tall, with short sandy brown hair and sparkling gray-blue eyes. He resembled his brother greatly, though his voice was incredibly pleasing to the ear, even more so then Raoul's. "Christine, this is my EIGHTTEEN year old brother, Phillipe. Don't take whatever he says seriously, he is a terrible joker. But........He was right about your beauty.." Her fiancée explained after shooting his brother a warning glance, then leading her to a huge parlor.
"Hello, dears." A short but striking woman nodded her greeting at the trio standing at the door. Her hair was a buttery gold and her eyes were a dark, almost black, brown. Her skin was porcelain white. "Christine, this is my mother,Adelynn. Mother, this is Christine, the girl I have been telling you about." Adelynn nodded again and offered a hint of a smile, then resumed her book. Raoul led Christine into the room and she sat down on a obviously expensive couch, then he sat next to her. Then a tall, ruggedly handsome man with dark brown hair and bright gray eyes waltzed into the room. Raoul's smile brightened. "My father, Danton. This is Christine." Danton turned and bowed to her, and offered a mischievous grin. "Ah, the famous opera singer. I have heard only wonderful things about you." His voice was low and sounded like an older version's of Phillipe's. He sat down across from the couple and engaged Christine in a discussion about his travels around the world, including how he went to Sweden. The De Chagny men and Christine carried on polite conversation and jokes till a servant came in and announced it was time for dinner.
Christine straightened her dark brown skirt and ivory blouse, wishing she had chosen something more sophisticated. Adelynn De Changy was wearing a black skirt with a huge bustle and a snowy white and gold silk blouse, with her hair swept up. The singer's hair was down, with a little gold clip keeping the top part of her curls out of the way. The dinner was delicious and extravagant, but the privileged family treated it like it was nothing out of the ordinary. 'Is this a normal meal?' Christine thought to herself, and tried to keep from exclaiming aloud over the rich flavor. Dinner ended, and the men went into a separate room to smoke cigars. Raoul looked at Christine for permission to go, and she smiled nervously. Here's my chance to become friends with his mother.. She worried to herself and followed the elegant woman to a smaller, but still grand, parlor.
"You're quite charming, Christine." Adelynn purred as she sat down on a chaise lounge and reached for a glass of wine. "I can see why Raoul's smitten." Christine allowed herself a small smile and timidly sat on a couch across from her. Adelynn smiled at the singer, a grin that showed all her teeth. Christine found the gesture intimidating. "But that does not mean I am happy with this match. Your father was a poor violinist. Raoul's father is a Comte, and one of the most respected men in France. Raoul is a Vicomte, and your just an aspiring opera singer. Raoul can have anyone he wants, whether it be a princess or not. I don't understand why he chose you!" Her high little voice slowly filled with quiet anger, and Christine shivered. When she had met the Comtess as a child, the woman had doted on her. But now the woman seemed to hate her. "So I shall try to show Raoul the error of his ways. But without him knowing it, of course!" She laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world, and resumed reading her book while sipping the wine. Christine just stared into the fireplace and watched the flames. When footsteps sounded outside the door, Adelynn tossed her book into the corner and started talking eagerly about the latest shoe fashions, while getting up and sitting next to Christine. The younger girl was about to ask what in the world she was talking about when Raoul breezed in and smiled at his love. "I can see you two gals are getting along just fine.", and Christine realized just how devious her fiancée's mother was. "Yes, your mother is truly a delight." She stuttered as the rest of his family filled the room. "Christine, has Raoul told you about the time we went hunting last winter?" Phillipe asked with a wicked glint in his eye. "She wouldn't want to hear about that!" Raoul answered for her, and nervously pulled at his ascot. "Oh, yes, she would. Mlle Daae, it is quite the tale." and so Philippe launched into an amusing story about the mishaps they encountered while hunting.
" Did you have a good time, Little Lotte?" Raoul asked on the carriage ride back to the opera house many hours later. "Yes, your family is lovely." She answered honestly, but blocking Adellyn from the mental image she had of her future family in-law. "That's good. They all loved you." He answered fondly. Except your mother...Christine thought as she recalled the tiny snubs that the Comtess had given her all night. "But my brother seems to be getting too fond of you. Try not to encourage his behavior." Raoul added with a little shake of his head. "Your little brother is charming." She said in mild defense of friendly Phillipe. "Yes, and all the other ladies seem to think so too." Raoul said knowingly, and they continued to chat until he dropped her off at her room with a good night kiss.
Christine unlocked her door and let herself into the small room with a sigh. Her evening had been lovely, but already she wasn't sure if she would ever fit in to the high society life. Then she banished the silly thought from her head, thinking she was being melodramatic and changed straight into her nightgown and light a single candle. Just as she was about to get in bed, she glanced at her huge gilded mirror, and her sight vanished as she blacked out. "Oh God!" Christine cried and grabbed on to her vanity for support as her body slowly went back to normal. She lite more candles and scattered them around her room and covered all the mirrors, and made apromise to herself to only think of good things. Even after all of Raoul's sweet promises that night,and Christine's self-made promise, she dreamed of Joseph Bouquet.
"What a party!" The whole chorus of the Opera Populaire sang and twirled. "No, no, this is not right!" M. Reyer shouted and fussed with his music stand while the dancers sighed and Mme Giry poked at the lazy younger ballerinas. Christine shook her head at the commotion and waved goodbye to Meg, who was seated offstage with an amused expression while watching her fellow dancers. The friends had made a habit of watching the rehearsals for the Masquerade ball each day, still giddy over the fact that they each had rose in positions to where they were a guest and not a hard-working performer for the well-known party. The main dance was still being worked on, and it seemed that no one had come up with the desired choreography,theme and song yet. "I think I might join them out of pity!" Meg mouthed to Christine, and the two giggled over the sound of the dancer's shoes on the stage.
Then Christine trotted away to the grand foyer and breezed out into the cool,cloudy air. She was naturally graceful, but too spacey and distracted to ever be a good ballerina, and was pleased to have the embarrassment of tripping and dancing off-time on stage done. Christine hummed a tune from La Traviata as she lept down and into the busy streets of Paris. She wrapped her red cloak tighter around her shoulders and smiled jovially into the overcast sky after walking around the busy city for a few minutes. It was late November and unusually chilly, but she couldn't help but occasionally twirl and laugh to no one in particular. It was a little over a week after Raoul proposed, and he was still as loving as ever, and she knew she loved him in return. Her new life consisted of long walks and dinner with Raoul ever night, while mornings were spent watching the ballet dancers and wandering around the park that was near the opera house. The thoughts that occupied her head where light and airy, and when a memory hit her, or she began to think of things other then relaxing walks and pretty dresses, the singer would dive into her way of life more fervently then before. She stepped into a little flower shop and quickly bought a bouquet of white tea roses. But today is the one day that I can allow myself to remember. Christine thought, and her cheery smile faded from her face as she turned off on a road that would led away from the bustling center of Paris where the theater was located. "October 23." She whispered and paced down a long dirt road lined with trees. Fields and forest she blazed pass, and after a hour, her destination was in sight. The cemetery. She clutched the bouquet and lifted her skirt with her other hand and sped down the main aisle of the grave yard. Her eyes and head ached as she tried to hold back all of her lonely and depressed thoughts since she had been doing so good by not thinking of anything upsetting for the last two weeks. But all her restraint was lost when the gray sky let loose small and chilling rain droplets, and she began to run to the biggest monument in the cemetery, the Daae mausoleum. Christine was drenched and crying by the time she collapsed on the steps, and she hugged the soggy bouquet weakly. "Six years! Six years you've been....been...dead!" She cried and felt the rain chill her bones. She continued to weep, then tried to wipe away her tears, but the rain just wet her over again and she let out a feeble laugh at the silly way she kept stubbornly wiping at her face. The girl picked herself up off the stairs and slowly pulled out a key and unlocked the gate that led inside the room. She silently walked in and light a candle with the matches that were hidden behind an intricate angel statue.
Her father's success as a violinist had allowed him to make all the preparations for a grand burial and tomb, but hadn't stopped him from getting tuberculosis a year after he purchased the grave site and big house that Christine had only lived in for nine months. She stood next to the stone coffin that held the remains of her father and gently laid the flowers on the engraved violin that decorated the top of the lid. "Father, I'm engaged." She whispered and stared into the shadows that the candle created, even though it was only late afternoon. The rainy sky made it appear much later then it actually was. "Do you remember Raoul? I'm sure you do. He is wonderful, I know you must be happy up there in Heaven." She smiled at the memory of her first glimpse of Raoul. "Do you remember my seventh birthday? My favorite present was the beautiful red scarf that I insisted that I had to where to the beach to play in. It was so windy and it blew into the sea, and I wept. But then the little boy that was walking with his nurse near us ran into the sea and rescued it and gave it back to me with a bow, and suddenly, we became the best of friends. So we spent nearly every day playing and, Lord, I remember the first time you told us about my soon-to-be favorite story. Little Lotte and the Angel of Music. And we memorized it and were the as happy as only children can be......Now, soon, I am going to marry him. Soon...Someday...I wish you were here!" She continued to speak into the silence and rung out her cloak to warm herself. The rain had soaked her clothes and for each word she spoke, she shivered twice. Her loose hair dripped onto the stone floor, and what felt like too soon, she whispered, "I love you, Daddy. October 23 shall always belong to you," And with that, she left the mausoleum and stepped back into the chilling rain. The long trek back took even longer as she battled mud and the sideways wind that nearly knocked her over. Finally, at dusk, she reached the opera house.
"Christine!" Meg shouted after she spotted her friend stumble into the brightly lite foyer. "What were you doing out there?Goodness, your soaked."The little dancer clucked and helped the singer into the back hall where her room was located. "We were supposed to meet for lunch, and when you never showed up, I had quite the scare!" She continued and unlocked her friend's door for her. "Its the 23." Christine answered quietly, and Meg understood the day's significance immediately and nodded sympathetically," You need to get out of these clothes. And your skin is ice cold. We must pray that you don't catch cold."
Christine did get sick. She was lost in feverish illusions as her thin body fought with the illness that people get from being out too long in winter rain. Christine was bedridden and in constant company of those who loved her; Raoul, Meg, Mme Giry, and from behind a covered mirror, Erik. But she was oblivious as her mind distorted memories and she called out random words and names for help and twisted around in bed.
Meg Giry paced in front of her best friend's room. The doctor had just been called for, and she heard him whisper to her mother through the closed door. She knew her friend was terribly sick, but was helpless. "How is she?!" Raoul de Changy burst into the hall and shook his long hair free of rain droplets. The weather seemed to match all of their moods. "I don't know. The doctor is still in there." Meg answered and faced her friend's sweetheart. He gave a frustrated sigh and joined Meg in her pacing. When the doctor finally left, the two barged into the singer's room and nearly crashed into Mme Giry. They were both crestfallen to see that Christine still laid limply in bed, her curls plastered to her face and her skin ashy. Her eyes were closed, and she occasionally whimpered and shouted, sometimes for Raoul and the Giry's, but mostly for a man called both Erik and Angel.
"Who is Erik, maman?" Meg asked one afternoon while Christine was in a oblivious sleep. She had been horribly ill for three days and still showed no sign of recovering. Mme Giry's lip's tightened and she glanced around quickly before replying," No one, ma cherie. When one is feverish,like Christine is now, they tend to make up people in their delusions." Meg nodded suspiciously, but when Raoul asked her about it later, she changed the subject.
Two weeks later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"It is so bright...." A girl whispered and tried to pull herself into a sitting position from her bed. "Christine! You're back!" Two excited voices chimed in unison. Christine looked down and saw that she was covered in blankets, and held out her hand to see nearly translucent, skin. She naturally had a pale complexion, but there had always been a rosy glow to it. "So I have not just been dreaming." She said to herself and shivered. "Yes, you have been ill for a very long time. So much has happened!" Meg chirped and tucked the blanket around her friend. "What has happened? And could you please pull the curtains over?" Christine asked in a scratchy whisper. "Of course, darling." A male voice responded and the singer saw that her fiancée was also in the room. He hurried over to the one window and soon the room was dim and shadowy, and Christine immediately started to feel better.
"If you remember, the main dance for the masquerade ball couldn't be decided on. But, a couple days after you got sick, a full score to a song called 'Masquerade' showed up at the managers' desks', complete with a theme and dance routine. I peeked in on rehearsals for it, really, it will be a night none of us will forget!" Meg excitedly exclaimed, and the recovering girl offered a weak smile to show that she too was looking forward to the event. "What is the theme?" The brunette rasped, and Meg clapped her hands together. "Colors! Everyone is to where gold, black, white and silver! It shall be so elegant, with the regal gowns and glorious music." And suddenly, it clicked for Christine. Who had created everything for the dance. Erik had made it for his opera house. She wondered if the managers knew who had given them the supposedly "divine" music, but decided to go back to her policy before she got sick; to only be happy and think happy things. So she listened to her friends' stories and laughed at all of the right parts till she fell asleep.
"She is recovering so quickly!" Meg whispered happily. Her mother nodded in return and shut Christine's door. It had been six days since Christine had awoken from her feverish sleep, and she was making a remarkable recovery. Just that day, she had joyfully walked around the opera house and eaten two full meals. "Maybe she is driven by the excitement of dancing at the ball with her love?" Meg joked as they headed to the ballet dormitories. "Maybe." Mme Giry answered, as if she didn't know about the masked man slipping a potion into the little singer's drink every morning. But she knew that his potion would heal her, and it was helping her get better much quicker then if she just took the opera doctor's medicine.
"The sun feels so good!" Christine sighed as she tilted her face towards the weak light shining through the tree she sat under. Raoul smiled down fondly at his girl, and tucked her red scarf around her neck. "I never want to get sick again. Remind me not to walk around in the rain sometime," she laughed and poked at the Vicomte playfully. He poked her in return, but secretly was ecstatic to see Christine healthy and lively once again after nearly a month of being confined to her room and the opera's chapel. "You know, Mme Giry made me promise to feed you." The young Vicomte said quite seriously, then pulled out a picnic basket from behind the tree. "Oh! How lovely!" Christine squealed, and slowly ate an apple and a small sandwich, and finished with strawberries. Really, Raoul, where did you get these?" She curiously asked, and held up a perfect plump fruit to his face. He ate it, then said," Its a secret."
They finished their meal, and he helped her up and they strolled around the park till Christine became tired. He dropped her off at the opera house with the promise of a dinner with his family that very night. Before she had become ill, Christine had dined with the de Changys' nearly every night, but after since her sickness, she had mostly stayed in her room with a cup of soup as her dinner and her friend Meg as company. She walked into the opera house feeling quite carefree and was nearly ran over by the Monsieurs Firmin and Andre. "Mademoiselle Daae! Just the gal we were looking for!" They said in unison, and couldn't help but smirk at their matching purple vests. The two managers followed the latest fashion trends to a tee and then added their own personal touch that usually resulted in them being clothed in colors too bright with lots of silly accessories. "I am glad that you are feeling better." M. Andre said, then Firmin began to walk towards his office, and his fellow manager herded the young singer along as the business partners chatted gaily. They arrived at the office, and Christine looked around curiously.
"Andre, you rascal! We got so caught up talking about the weather that we didn't even tell Mlle Daae about our plans!" Firmin gasped. The two nodded at each other, then the shorter unlocked the office, hurried in, then produced a vividly colored flyer. "Viola!" He shrieked, and the other manager nodded proudly. "I don't understand, monsieurs." Christine said and cocked her head at the poster. It showed the Opera Populaire surrounded by music notes and flashed the words "The Most Popular and Loved Opera Songs and Ballets Preformed in One Performance!" Underneath was Christine's, Carlotta's, Piangi's and Meg's names in a flashy font.
"Oh, we forgot to tell her,"laughed the taller manager, and the shorter pushed her into a velvet chair inside the plush office. "Christine, dear, you well know that Il Muto closed early after that rather unfortunate incident with Joseph Boquet." Firmin stated disdainfully, and Christine shuddered at the memory of seeing his bloated body being carried away from the opera house after the conclusion of Il Muto. "And so we took the last month or so working on restoring the Populaire's name and preparing for a splendid masquerade to make the people forget about the disaster. Which turned out to be unnecessary. The people of Paris found the last performance of Il Muto to be like a grand and dramatic mystery... once they got over the shock. " He continued and thoughtfully twirled his mustache. "AND now everyone wants to come back to the place of great mystery and perhaps catch a glimpse of the notorious Phantom, Paris's very own opera ghost. So we just knew that the doors had to be reopened to the public before the ball. There will be a grand show consisting of two ballets and nine songs being sung from the most beloved operas that we have already preformed. This will happen a month before the masquerade, and the performances will be exclusive, with only three showings before we officially close for the season. This will give us the boost we need for the funds of the ball and for ticket sales to boom. It will be spectacular!" Andre turned and beamed at Firmin, and they both glowed in the light of their genius.
"It sounds nice. But where do I fit into this?" Christine asked timidly. She was unsure if they wanted her to sing. But the bigger problem to her was that she let herself think of spectacular music,which brought her tutor to mind, and that was a strict no-no in what was supposed to be her only happy, Raoul-based thoughts. "Yes, yes, we were getting to that. By the grace of God, we were able to appease La Carlotta into joining the cast once again." Firmin continued, and Andre muttered under his breathe, "Not by the grace of God, but by our pocket books and half the jewelry in France." Firmin glared at his friend, then went on saying, "She will sing five of the songs for the show. Now, listen here Christine, the most requested song for the show is from Hannibal! Your rendition of Think of Me! So you shall sing that, as well as the drinking song from La Traviata, that jewel song from Faust...what was the last one? Oh yes, and Dove Sono from The Marriage of Figaro. You will do wonderfully...that is, do you feel well enough to start the rehearsals in two days time? The first performance is in a week...I know its quite the rush, but surely you can handle it?" The managers turned their hopeful eyes toward her and smiled encouragingly.
"Yes, it sounds delightful," she responded shyly. Christine was thrilled to have so many songs for the exclusive performance and she knew she could handle it as long as there was no dancing. "After all, my illness didn't affect my throat!" The girl added happily, and the men grinned triumphantly and led her to her room all the while chatting about her costumes and the crowd that would watch her singing. As they bid her goodbye, Andre handed her a folder with the sheet music in it, and Christine entered her room and sat down to read. After she scanned the pieces, she felt like she was waiting for something, but she didn't know what. Then, suddenly, she knew what she was anticipating; her Angel teaching the songs to her. "I've already broken the rules." Christine muttered, and slowly uncovered the golden mirror. "Did I expect him to be waiting here?" She laughed to herself, when all she saw was her pale reflection. She walked back towards her vanity and pulled open the bottom drawer. Then she took off the folded shawl covered the contents of the drawer and tossed it to the other side of the room and pulled out a long, large silver box. The box had roses carved into the dull old silver and the interior was lined with creased velvet. The box was held her most precious possessions. Christine opened her door, looked out into the empty hall, and silently made her way to the chapel, box in hand.
She arrived and sat at the little window seat. Her large blue skirt made a comfortable cushion, and so she settle in and opened her box with reverence. The first object she pulled out was a little wooden violin toy. Then a long piece of aged lace from her mother's wedding dress. Then a child's-size red scarf. A tiny picture of the Swedish coast. A wishing rock found outside of her childhood home. Two frayed pink silk hair ribbons. A tiny doll with a blue eyes, a matching frock and golden hair. A glass figurine of a swan and a real feather from the white bird. A pearl necklace. A dried red rose. A page of sheet music. And multiple black silk ribbons. The last item she pulled out was dropped into the bottom of the box, which was literally covered in dried rose petals. The rose petals concealed the magical drawings that she had been given during rehearsals for Il Muto, and a shining ring. The ring made by an angel.
Christine sat surrounded by her treasures, a sweet smile on her face. She got up from her perch, put the lace on her head, and looked down on her left hand, pulling an imaginary ring unto her fourth finger, whispering, "I do." She stopped her silly pretending when the majestic tones of a violin cascaded down from the ceiling of the chapel. She forgot all about weddings and angels. The first contents of the box had brought back the little girl that had vanished at the Opera Populaire. "Father?" Hearing her vulnerable voice, Christine snapped back into reality. "Erik." The name rolled off her tongue like a caress, and Christine was once again shocked at her reaction. "Angel." His sweet voice echoed. Christine was at a loss for words. She wanted to tell him so much, but at the same time, she wanted to flee to the safety of Raoul's arms. So she said the first thing on her mind. "I've missed you." Once the words left her mouth, she realized how very true they rang. The whole month after Il Muto, she had a sharp, anxious urge at the back of her mind, which she dismissed as longing for her wedding and the chance to sing on stage again. But she now realized it was to hear her angel's voice once again.
"Have you?" He replied, his voice no longer sweet,now emotionless. Christine remembered the dinners with Raoul's family, walks in the park, and laughing with Meg. How she had striven to appear carefree and happy, like the world was a huge castle, and she the privileged queen. And she recalled the third performance of Il Muto, and how she sang a love song with Raoul after she had been scared out of her mind when Erik had killed a man. The same man that she now desperately wanted to see and hear and touch. So she knew, that even as she feared and hated him at times, that the control Raoul said Erik held over her existed. 'Or I care for him...' She thought in shock, and even in her confusion, realized that she hadn't answered the voice. Christine looked up at the ceiling while she walked back toward the window seat, her amber eyes filling with upset tears. 'What am I doing?' Her mind yelled as her actual voice answered, "I've missed you more than you can imagine. Please come back, dear Angel." The sound of the violin resumed and stayed with Christine as she tucked the treasures back into her box with a smile, and reached a crescendo when she put the rose ring on her middle finger. The lovely song kept her company as she walked back to her room and switched tunes as she did various things in her room. It even turned to an accompaniment when she began to sing the songs she would preform, and when she settled in for a nap, it became a sweet lullaby.
When she woke up, it was dark. The violin was just a sweet whisper, and Erik was somewhere humming along to the tune. Christine's sleepy eyes widened, and a delighted smile lite her face. She ran over to her mirror, and pressed her hands to the glass, positive that he was playing within the tunnel behind the mirror. "Come to me,secret Angel!" She joyfully, if not somewhat frustratedly sang, for the tune had switched to her beloved Angel of Music. "Prove your devotion." He whispered from the other side of the tunnel, and then the music stopped, and Christine suddenly felt very alone. She turned back toward the room, and saw a rose gently laid over the dresser. She lifted the bloom to her face and inhaled the heady scent before turning to glance at the little clock perched on a shelf. "Oh no!" It was ten minutes from when Raoul was supposed to pick her up for dinner with her future in-laws. And she suddenly understood what Erik's mysterious "prove your devotion" meant. Was she to go to dinner with Raoul and deny her Angel or obey Erik and tun Raoul away? The ring on her hand was cool and represented a tie to the Phantom. The chain round her neck bore a elegant gold cross that Raoul had given her. She was, in a way, promised to two people. What seemed like a simple decision; to go out with her sweetheart for dinner, would change her relationship with both men, whether they realized it or not. She dropped the rose immediately, feeling as if the smooth petals gave an unfair advantage to Erik in her decision, and tugged off both pieces of jewelery, before beginning to pace frantically. She had less then ten minutes to decide which man she would comply to. She walked back and forth for a couple of minutes before her mind was made. Christine quickly fixed her hair and sprayed perfume. She finally grabbed the victorious piece of jewelery from the floor and put it on, her voice already beginning a sweet song.