The opera house was very quiet the day after the masquerade. Many of the employees enjoyed the day off, staying in their rooms and sleeping off the hangovers that were a given after any party. They also knew that the next day would be very busy, as the first day of rehearsals for a new opera. Christine also stayed in her room that day,and only left to eat and bathe. She spent the rest of the day sleeping, and when she couldn't sleep, she merely laid on her bed or sketched absent-mindedly in an old notebook. Her thoughts were simple and sleepy, and she did not allow herself to muse about the previous night once.
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Meg let herself into her best friend's room quietly, seeing Christine draped over her tiny sofa bed, her hair mussed and snoring lightly. "This shall be so fun," The blond dancer giggled, then crouched behind the vanity before yelling, "Christine!," at the top of her lungs. The previously slumbering girl jumped about a foot in the air, then settled herself on the bed and looked around suspiciously. Meg revealed herself, and the tired singer laughed at her friend's antics easily enough. "Thank you for that lovely wake-up," she said while getting out of bed and starting to prepare for her day. "Maman sent me to check on you. You seem quite alright." Christine nodded to show that she was indeed fine, and the two girls chatted while she dressed. Once she was ready, they went down to the theater where the Phantom's Don Juan Triumphant was being sight-read.
Many hours later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Dis is not art!" Carlotta shrilled passionately to the weary M. Reyer. "Signora, we have gone over this many times. Though you may not like the piece, please, try to do your best." The frail man gently soothed the diva, who hissed at the suggestion that she wasn't already doing her best. Christine smirked at them, then continued to fiddle with the thick stack of papers labeled, "Aminta." The music was at times was sensuous,rich and beautiful, but it also like no opera she had seen preformed before. At other instances, the music would seem like a crushing, greatly terrible noise that made the girl want to shout and cry at the same time. It was a work of genius.
Christine also recognized one of the songs, "The Point of No Return." The Phantom had her sing the unfinished version of the duet on the second day of her kidnapping. Just listening to the orchestra try to figure out the tune was hypnotizing to Christine. Though she did not agree with the racy words, and dreaded having to sing them with Piangi in the near future, she could listen to that particular tune all day and still crave more. She hadn't really heard the song yet, though, because it was apparently a very hard piece and nearly all the orchestra members were simply staring at their sheet music instead of playing it. The singer had to rely on her memory of Erik sitting at his organ to appease her longing to hear the music.
The entire day had been slow to Christine. Carlotta threw many tantrums, mostly about how small her part was, the musicians couldn't figure out their music, and all the dancers had made crude jokes about the ballet, if you could even call the racy dance a ballet. So she had spent much of the afternoon thinking about the night of the party,and still could not come up with a solution. The scrap of blue clothing seemed to prove it wasn't a dream; but then, why was her masquerade dress still pink? The most frustrating thing to the girl was the mystery of how her feelings and emotions had suddenly changed. She finally had the thought that it was something in the candles that had done the trick;with their intoxicating, too sweet scent. Christine remembered feeling light-headed and seeing everything with a sort of beautiful bluish-tint, not to mention feeling completely calm and peaceful. All the other times the Phantom had pulled her down to his cellars, she had felt a million emotions, none of them being calmly relaxed. After pondering about it all, the soprano realized that she was immensely frightened;and desperately wanted to tell someone about her personal ordeals.
But who? She thought, Perhaps Meg, she is so understanding...but she also loves intrigue, and with her investigating on those mysterious candles, she'll tell more people to get information... Then she looked to Mme Giry, who was sternly lecturing two teen-aged ballerinas. She was once like a mother to me, so why have we become so distant? As soon as Christine thought that, she realized how true it was. The ballet mistress once told her bedtime stories and took her shopping and to birthday dinners. But in the past year or so, the two didn't have the close bond of the past. Oh, Mme Giry was still there whenever Christine needed her, and she seemed to understand about the whole Phantom/Angel ordeal; maybe a little too well, but Christine for whatever reason, did not want to confide her fears to her. Raoul is the only one, then...She also didn't want to tell Raoul, but not for the same reasons as for the Madame. If I tell him, he will know about all my problems..so much to burden him with, and we are not even married! Even with a cautious heart, she resolved that she would tell Raoul that very afternoon, when he picked her up for their weekly stroll in the park. The tedious first rehearsal finally ended, and Christine bundled up and hurried to the front of the opera house to wait for her savior.
~~~~~~~~~~The Park~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We need to talk, Raoul." Christine gravely decried while her fiancée led her around the park. It was around dusk, and the winter weather was bitingly cold. When Raoul had picked Christine up in his carriage from the opera house, he had suggested they go to his home, but the stubborn soprano had strangely insisted that they go on their walk. Raoul made the best of the situation, and was sporting a jaunty scarf around his neck and a cloaked Christine on his arm.
"Yes, Lotte. People normally chat when they stroll about the park!," he laughed while miming to pick a rose from the bush nearest them, though the bush was barren due to the frosty weather. Christine did not smile at his silliness, and she turned to look at him after she pushed the pinkish-red velvet hood off her face. "Raoul, I'm serious....I'm...I'm frightened." Her skin seemed to pale, and her eyes widened with desperate fear. Raoul immediately ended his charade, and brought her over to a secluded stone bench near a tall tree that somehow still had leaves, despite it being in the middle of winter.
She sat down distractedly on the bench, and the Vicomte joined her and pulled her hood back on over her cold head. She didn't seem to notice the chill. "Raoul, two nights ago..." Christine broke off and twisted her hands, playing with the fingers on her brown leather gloves. Raoul's teeth clenched, but he did his best to retain a calm and collected composure. He knew Christine needed gentle comforting, and that she finally was about to tell him about her experiences with the much hated Phantom of the Opera. He brought her closer to him and said softly, "What is it, sweetest?" She looked at him sadly, then answered, "Do you really want to know? The last time I tried to tell you, you ignored me, then we ended up singing a duet!" Raoul laughed gently, then answered, "I want to listen."
With Raoul's confirmation, Christine stopped fiddling with the gloves and cautiously looked around their secluded bench before whispering, "Two nights ago, the Phantom of the Opera came to the masquerade dressed as Red Death. He insulted the most important people, then his attention came to me, and he took my beautiful new ring before disappearing. Then you ran after him, while brandishing a sword, and left me. Mme Giry brought me to a chair, and I sat there, feeling dazed and confused. Then dear Meg came and tried to bring me back to the party, but I refused, and sat in the chair. But, then, to my surprise and astonishment, I heard my father's voice!" Her quiet voice portrayed all the shock she had felt at that moment nights before, but Raoul interrupted, "Christine, dear, I shall not interrupt again, but can you please speak up? No one is near, you needn't whisper. Sorry, please continue now."
She nodded, then continued in a normal voice, "His voice came from the end of the hall that I sat in. That part of the hall was not lite, but his voice guided me, and so I continued till I could barely make out the shape of the wall in front of me. There was a door, and I opened it, only to be left in complete darkness. I felt like a fool, and tried to return to the party when the voice of my long-dead aunt called to me. I couldn't help myself, again, I followed. She stopped talking the moment I felt another wall before. Raoul, it was so dark that I had to walk with my hands in front of me. Once I was alone in the dark again, I came to my senses and again tried to escape. It was so dark, and I had walked so far. I was desolate. But then, I heard your voice!" Raoul had been growing more agitated with the continuing of Christine's tale, but hid his unease and tried to make his attention unbiased.
"I was so relieved. I had been starting to doubt my sanity! And so I blindly followed your voice. As I felt the end of the wall, your voice left me! The air had gotten so cold, and I could tell I had walked very far. I felt for the door and let myself in. Instead of meeting more blackness, there was a very faint light in the distance and I had the most ethereal voice say, "Come to me, angel!" I realized that the Phantom had lured me down beneath the opera house, and I grew very mad. After I ranted, the single light in the distance blew out, and I was once again in the dark. I realized my mistake, and thought deeply for moments. When he spoke again, I asked him to led me away, and the candle relite itself. As I walked further on, more candles seemed to appear ahead of me, creating a light for me to follow. They gave off the most heavenly scent. And so I walked, following the lovely candles and listening to the sound of the Angel's mysterious voice humming in the distance. Strangely, all my fears seemed to evaporate, and I felt peace and nothing else. When I was nearly sleep-walking, the candles went out. Still, I felt so relaxed, the sweet smoke from the candle filling my nose.
"Then, there was suddenly light! A huge stained glass wall stood before me. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen; showing a seen to magical to be real. I stood before it, delighted and awed at such majesty. I whispered, "Where have you brought me?" and the Ghost emerged from the shadows and pulled me to him....He was the most amazing sight!" Raoul gasped at her treacherous words, but Christine continued on,not bothered, "His mask was so blue, everything was in the colors of the night! And when I looked at my clothes, they too were in those mystical shades of blue and silver!
After I got over my awe, he led me through the stained glass, which was really a door. We were at the most magical place, I had only been once before. I started to see everything in the colors of the night. It was so very queer, and every thing I felt was relaxed and pleased. He touched me, caressed me, and I was not repulsed or afraid."
"He touched you?! Christine!" Raoul's voice was shocked and indignant, but mostly disbelieving. "Why would you let that monster touch you? I know you had to trust him to get back to the surface, but why..." He shook his head sadly and pulled the cloak tighter around her shoulders. He was immensely glad no one but them had bothered to walk in the park that freezing afternoon.
"Raoul, he was not always so...He has touched me before....I...Anyways, everything was too beautiful. I was seeing things in the wrong colors, and I just wanted to relax, to sleep. The sweet smell of the candles, and the faint light, everything was dreamy to me." Christine knew not to tell him about her rash behavior and off taking off her outer skirt and went on, "Over all, Raoul, I was not myself. I settled on to a stack of rugs and fell asleep. When I woke, I was back in the hall outside the grand foyer, the party still going on. I was convinced it was just a dream, for my cloths had returned to the proper color, and I had a raging headache. But when I retired to my room that night, a scrap of blue silk the fell to my feet. The piece of cloth was the same exact blue color that I had seen earlier that night, the color I had imagined my dress to be! It was all too much, and I just went to bed and spent the next day refusing to think about it. But today, I could not help but let my mind wander. I thought back to that night, and to all of the other nights when the Opera Ghost controlled me so.....He is always there, Raoul, like I told you on that night we sang upon the rooftop. Every where I hear his voice, and every time he calls, I fall under the spell. I tried so hard to pretend it wasn't so..Even now, I feel that he watches."
The young Vicomte stared at Christine with horrified eyes. The night on the roof, he had claimed that there was no Phantom of the Opera. He had soothed Christine with sweet words, but now she was past the point of that kind of comfort. He could not think of a solution to end her fears, so he put all his thoughts to her tale, and was shocked when he reached the conclusion; "Christine, he must have somehow drugged you! I think it was the scent of those candles. I remember the strange sweet you carried when I kissed you goodnight. And you said that you were yourself before the candles started guiding your way...It is the only thing that makes sense. That is something the monster would stoop to doing to win you."
Now it was Christine's turn to stare at her love with horrified eyes. She had opened mouth with shock, but remained silent and thought over the possibility. The magical colors she had seen, and the feeling of calm had all been an illusion induced by the smoke from tainted candles. The Phantom had tucked the piece of blue fabric in her skirt to make it seem like a fantasy come true, that she had really had her clothes change color, when really, she had just been hallucinating. It made sense, and her feeling of fear grew. "Raoul, what if he does it again? Just to breathing in the scent of the candle smoke completely changed me. I would follow his voice anywhere, and he knows....." She burst into tears and buried her face in his chest. Raoul comforted her,then whispered, "Shush, sweetheart. We are safe here, away from the opera house. I have the solution to your fear. I shall buy you a flat to live in until our marriage....Which that monster denied us the joy of telling the public. Everyone in society knows now that we are engaged, sweet. That is beside the point though, and you shall have the nicest little apartment, and you can just go to the Populaire preform, and live somewhere else. I was thinking, maybe somewhere near this park would do-"
"No, Raoul!" When her fiancée had brought up the idea, Christine experienced a great pull of fear at being separated from the opera. She wanted disappear from Erik's obsessive gaze , but she could not bear the thought at living away from her kingdom of music. "I can't leave the opera house, even to sleep!" He saw the way her face took on a new kind of terrified look, and said, "Okay, I see that you can't be taken away from there." Her face softened once again, and she pushed herself from him and turned her face to gaze off in the distance. The trees surrounding their bench were dead and piercing the sky with fierce branches, though the tree directly over them had leaves. She was breathing through her mouth, and her breath was made visible with chilly air. Raoul watched her, and became frustrated and angry, though not directly at her, and shouted, "Is there nothing I can do to save you from him, from yourself? Nothing?! Why can't you deny him? Why?!"
She turned back to face him again, and he saw that she had been crying. He felt evil for having taken out his anger on her, and said gently, "Please, can I just get a different room for you at the opera house. Out of that dressing room, maybe near the chapel. How does that sound?" She thought about it, then nodded, though in her mind, she thought the effort would be useless. "Raoul, there is something else I have been thinking. I should not like to preform in his opera. I know that it will not end well, I know it." He bit his lip then answered, "Christine, I think you should learn the part and go along with rehearsals like all in well. You don't have to actually preform the part,dear, but I think that the monster will react badly if you drop his vile opera completely." After he had said that, Christine gasped and claimed, "Raoul, no, Don Juan Triumphant is pure genius, a great and terrible piece of musical perfection. I just cannot be part of it."
They continued to talk the rest of the evening, leaving the park and dining at a private restaurant. Raoul dropped Christine off at her dressing room for the last time, and made his way to meeting with managers, to discuss Christine getting a new room. The soprano packed her few and beloved belonging and placed them by the door, and went to lay in her tiny sofa bed, with a beautiful voice crooning to her as she faded into sleep.
When she woke, it was midmorning. She saw that Raoul had slid a note under her door, and the girl hurried over and read.
"Sweet Lotte,
I was not able to ensure you a room to yourself. I am sorry. But your dear friend Meg is willing to share her room with you. When she was promoted to lead dancer, she got a private room out of the dorms, and lucky for us, has two beds. It is also near the chapel, I know this shall please you. Meg told me that you are to transfer your belongings to your new room once you wake.
Also, my offer of getting you a flat away from the opera house still goes, if you wish. Just say the word.
All my love, Raoul"
Christine smiled at her fiancé's formal words, then stuffed the envelope into the pocket of her plain dressing gown after taking out the simple key that had fallen from the letter. The luxuriant,sheer lace dressing gown she had worn on the night of her debut had been packed into a leather bag, with the rest of the cloths she couldn't part with. Christine had decided to leave most of her garments in her dressing room, just because it would make things easier for moving into Meg's room. So the dressing gown, her dark pink cloak, a night gown, a few shirt waists, two skirts and underthings filled her bag. Her other bag was filled with sheet music, a sketchbook and pencils, and the beloved silver box filled with all her keepsakes. She quickly donned a pretty dress of navy blue that had gold and white embroidery with roses on it, and then picked up her belongings and cast a final look at her room. The red flowered wallpaper, the huge covered gold mirror, the pillows and blankets Erik had given her that she decided to leave behind; all of it she committed to memory. Even though she would return to this very room before every performance, it would never be the same as when she had lived in it.
Christine quietly let herself into Meg's room. She saw that her friend wasn't there, but that a bed underneath a circular-shaped window had been made, and a small dresser had its drawers open invitingly. The wall were made of stone; a dark gray, and the bed's were out of black wrought iron and each had four thin posts. The other furniture was in shades of gray and black as well. But the room wasn't completely gloomy, Christine's bed had light blue drapes hanging from the posts, and Meg's bed had light purple drapes. The ballerina had put candles over the dresser, and underneath them, more purple clothe covered the furniture. There were jackets on the coat rack, so there was a sort-of lived in feeling to the room.
She hurried and unpacked her things, thinking of the rehearsal for Don Juan Triumphant later that day. The opera was set to premiere that Friday, which only three days away. She knew that the props makers, chorus and dancers had been working feverishly, and that Meg was practicing even now, which explained why she hadn't been in the room to welcome Christine. The seamstresses had also been churning out costumes at a remarkable rate, but they had it easier then the other employees. In the Phantom's score, he had left a note that said he would provide the costumes for the two leads; Don Juan and Aminta, a gypsy girl he seduces. He had also instructed that there was to be no dress rehearsal. So the cast tried on their costumes, preformed on the set and practiced, but they never did so all together, to obey the Opera Ghost's ridiculous demands.
Christine pondered over his demands as she headed down to the dim theater. She saw chorus and main singers standing in a podium, with Mme Giry keeping an eye on her dancers near them. She approached the stand, and M. Reyer greeted her with a sarcastic, "Welcome, Mlle Daae. I'm glad you could make it to the rehearsal of an opera in which you preform a lead." Christine ignored his snide remark, knowing that the normally kind director was just stressed, and opened her folder of sheet music, placing herself away from the music stand and the members of the chorus who had been given solos. Carlotta had parked herself on the first row of the bleacher, and Piangi stood next to her, and the rest of the row was empty.
M. Reyer turned his attention away from Christine, and back to Piangi, whom he had been scolding before Christine entered the picture. "Again, Monsieur. Remember, it is "Tangle", not "Tango or Tannnnggggllllleeeee." The portly tenor shook his head indignantly, and his lover glared at the frail music director. "Dose who tangglleee wit Don Juan!" He sang, puffing up his chest proudly. Christine looked up from her part with dismay. She was still quite miserable to have to be singing many sensuous duets with the man who couldn't even pronounce the word "tangle." But I shall drop out of this opera the night before premiere, and Carlotta shall have my part.... She thought, for deep down, she had an ever-growing sense of unease about preforming her part, the girl Aminta. She was roused out of her thoughts when M. Reyer loudly sighed and said ," No, No! Tangle! It is pronounced tangle!"
Carlotta gasped at the brisk way the director had spoken to her lover, and spat, "His way make it sound like music! Much better than original way, I know!" Christine then gasped at the slight the diva had just given the Phantom, whose orchestrations were masterpieces. She opened her mouth to say so, but Mme Giry turned her face from her ballerinas in the corner and said, "Would you day that in front of the composer?" The elegant ballet instructor stared down at the aging diva and shook her head as the soprano replied, "He is not here. So I say, this music can not be called opera. It is cheap." The Madame continued to shake her head, and turned back to instructing the dancers.
"Let us continue with rehearsal, everyone. From where we left off." Reyer said, sounding quite tired, and the group, sans Christine , began to sing the tune from where Piangi left off. As the chorus faded off, Piangi began his solo and was rudely interrupted by three men strolling into the theater. Christine looked to see who caused the interruption, and saw the two mangers, overdressed like always, and behind them, her sweetheart Raoul. The taller of the two, Firmin, coughed then said, "We would just like to watch rehearsals, if that is okay with you." He had directed his comment towards Reyer, but Carlotta answered instead, hissing, "If you do not interrupt Ubaldo again!" The director nodded wearily, and they resumed singing while Christine silently greeted Raoul. Carlotta began her small part of gypsy hag, and sang with an strong, but emotionless voice. She was stopped by Reyer, instructed, and resumed to sing, changing nothing in her performance. When she was stopped yet again, she cried, "I sing the part the way it should be sung! It is only music when I sing it!" Christine opened her mouth with horror at the older soprano's words, her gesture noticed by Raoul, and Carlotta glared at her younger rival.
Then, while the cast glared at each other and at their sheet music, a low, and mocking voice drifted down unto their ears, saying, "It only sounds like music when you sing it, madame? I fear you are quite wrong. My music is merely too much for your paltry voice to handle, thus you shall always fail. And dear managers, I am glad you have made it to rehearsals. I trust that you shall get rid of that horrific third bassoon and perhaps also secure a trumpet player who has a sense of pitch?" The cast looked up at the ceiling with terrified faces, Carlotta gasped at her mistreatment, and Raoul pulled Christine protectively into his arms. Christine also stared at the ceiling, but her gaze soon roved around the entire dim theater. The Phantom could be anywhere, and she was frightened to hear his commanding voice so close. M. Reyer tried to dissolve the tension and said, "Piangi, now would be a good time to sing one of your solos. " The fat singer opened his mouth but was only able to get a few notes out before he was stopped with the sarcastic yet powerful voice saying,"It is pronounced 'tangle', monsieur. And you're quite flat. Please TRY to sing in pitch." Another shocked silence followed, and the voice continued, "And for our star, why have I not heard her voice? This is a rehearsal, if I am correct. Her pride will not let her return to me, and so she must be instructed here. Mademoiselle Daae, sing for me!" There were two gasps, one from Christine, who buried her face in Raoul's shoulder to block out her former teacher's voice, and the other from Carlotta.
"THIS IS ALL A PLOY TO HELP CHRISTINE!!!" All of the performers looked to the diva with surprise, even her lover Piangi, and Reyer shook his head, reassured the group that is was not to help the younger singer, then asked her to sing a main aria, "Aminta's Lament." Christine pushed away from Raoul's warm arms and began on the first few haunting notes. In the back of her mind, Christine heard the familiar voice of the Phantom urging her on, whispering his beloved angel to sing higher, and louder. She faltered, then bursting into a sob, and tearfully announced, "I can't sing this!" Raoul gave her a sympathetic look, then cast his gaze blatantly to the ceiling. She understood his gesture then slowly turned her ashamed face back to the group and emended, "I cannot sing this now. I shall watch rehearsal, but I won't sing today."
Reyer nodded as if he had expected her comment, and the other singers gave the troubled young soprano curious looks. Mme Giry came over to her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder before returning to her ballet girls. Christine shrank away from Raoul and into a dim corner while Firmin said, "How about Don Juan, everyone? Perhaps you can get through one song." They all had forgotten about the presence of the mangers and patron, and so straightened and reopened their music folders, and M. Reyer walked over to his piano. Before he reached it, the keys magically began to play the tune, while no one was there. There was more shrieks and everyone inched away from the piano, but the cursed yet beautiful voice of the Opera Ghost remained silent. The song continued, and the director soon raised his hands and conducted the group while the invisible pianist continued on. The lot continued to cast nervous glances to the piano, but still sang, and Christine cowered to herself as the barbarous overture reached a crescendo. She felt like she couldn't take anymore, and with a final glance at the still-playing piano, slipped out from the theater and to the hall. Her room was close to the theater, in a central walkway near the backstage corner nearest to the chapel. The halls were all dark, and the day was overcast, so the little light let in from the high windows was dim and gray. It was silent outside the theater, enough so that Christine could still hear the performers rehearsing the garish songs from the Phantom's opera.
She pulled up her heavy skirts and steadily picked up her pace, till she was nearly running through the empty halls. Her mind still seemed to echo the Opera Ghost's taunts, and in a tormented, passionate voice, she sang, "Beneath the opera house , I know he's there....He's with me on the stage, he's everywhere!" The soprano reached her destination;her old dressing room, and swiftly unlocked the door. She threw herself into the feminine room and continued, "And when my song takes flight, I always find, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind!" Christine vaguely remembered how she had moved out of this room that very morning,with plans to not return till the opening night of Don Juan Triumphant. The thought quickly left her pretty head as she angrily ran to the huge mirror and uncovered it in one fierce motion. The clothe fell to the floor, and she faced the mirror to see only her reflection; curls wild, blue dress disheveled, eyes huge and mistrusting. The scared and angry girl began to paw at the frames of the mirror, looking for a latch to let her into the Phantom's world, when a voice began to call, "Christine...Christine.." She looked around the empty room frantically, then cried, "Great deceiver, what do you want?" Christine backed away from the mirror suspiciously, and crossed her arms protectively around her shaking shoulders. "Christine, I want your voice, and your love....they go together....come and stay with me, and we will sing forever and fill the each other's lives with music!" She gave a shocked and horrified gasp at his tender answer, and stepped towards the door. "No! Oh God, no, never! You have drugged me, lied,killed! Leave me! Angel of death, never torment me again!" Her spiteful and angry rejection filled the room then faded to silence as she paused by the door. A few deathly still minutes went by, then quiet, but horribly mournful weeping filled her ears. She cast a final glance at the dressing room, then fled towards the chapel with tears streaming down her ashy face.
Great sobs wreaked her body as she sank by the picture of her father. She looked at the small replica of his calm young face, and reached into a tiny pocket on the side of her dress. Tears still coursed down her face as she pulled out the rose ring the Phantom had given her so long ago. The ring used to grace her finger, then her neck, then had been hidden in her box of treasures. But she had taken to hiding it in her skirts for the last couple of days, ignoring the searing guilt and constant fear she felt whenever it was on her person. Now she took the ring and placed it on one of the candle stands that surrounded her father's shrine. She steadied her breathing, and managed to cease the torrent of tears to see the dim chapel with clear eyes.
Her once magical angel had instilled it into her to sing whenever she felt strong emotion, and without even realizing it, she sang to the spirit of her father,"May the light of this flickering candle illuminate this never-ceasing night the way your spirit illuminates my soul! ...Papa, can you hear me? Papa, can you see me? Papa, can you find me in thiiiss ninnniiiight? Papa, are you near me? Do you even hear me? Oh Papa, please, can you help me not be frightened!" Her angelic plea echoed from the high ceilings of the chapel, and she stared at the shrine that sat before her. When the echoes at last died out, her exhausted head sank against her chest, and she slept fitfully.
Christine woke to find Raoul's arms around her. She was propped against him in the window seat in the chapel. The dim light that had filtered in through the stained glass window was gone, and her face was bathed in shadow from the candles that Raoul must have lit when he joined her. She subtly turned her head to better see his hands from peeking eyes. He was not aware that she was awake yet, and was turning the rose ring around in his fingers, the soft light from the candles catching in the rich red of the ruby in the center of the bloom. One hand traced the dainty black ribbon that curled around the band, and his other hand protectively went to Christine's still limp form. He tightened his arms around her, and she felt him stiffen as his hands angrily squeezed the marvelous ring. She in turn straightened, and turned her sleepy face towards him to show that she was awake. "Christine!," he gasped, and the ring disappeared within his hands. "What time is it?" She pulled out of his arms completely, and scooted against the other wall of the seat. Away from Raoul, she was cold, the winter air had seeped into the chapel, but she wanted to clearly see his guilty face. She remembered running to the chapel after she had horribly rejected the Phantom, and giving a pitiful plea to her father before falling into a deep sleep. She was still as fearful of Erik as ever, but she was also feeling a strange and overpowering longing to retrieve his ring from Raoul.
He finally answered, "It must be around seven. I noticed you were missing at two, and could not find you anywhere at the opera house. When I tried to look in the chapel, the doors where locked. I was so afraid, I thought the monster had taken you once again, after everything we've been through! I left the opera at four, and looked around at our park and everywhere else we like to go. I returned here at six, and still, you were nowhere! The managers gave me keys to all the rooms, and but the chapel would still not open. I again called your name, but met only silence. After I returned the keys to the managers, I asked for their permission to break down the door when I heard your voice calling. I again went down here, and found the doors unlocked, with you curled up on the floor, sleeping like a babe. I tried to rouse you to no avail, and so settled you unto the window seat to wait till you awakened." During his tale, he had skillfully hidden the ring in a crack on the sill of the window, but Christine noticed.
And she only had to look out the darkened window to know that his tale was true, so she answered, "Raoul, I cannot explain the locked doors of the chapel. But I can tell you what happened after I fled from that ill-fated rehearsal. As I ran down the empty halls, I heard the perfect voice of the ghost call to me. It drove me mad! I flew to my dressing room and tried to break into my mirror, which is the portal to his home, so I could confront him. I do not know what I was thinking, he cannot be defeated. But while I feverishly worked away at the mirror, his voice intercepted me yet again! He sang to me, asking that I come and live with him forever! I denied him in the most horrible way and ran to the chapel, the sound of his crying at my back. I shall never forget the sound! I dried my tears, then prayed to my father. Then I fell into a deep sleep...." Her beautiful voice dropped into a troubled whisper, and Raoul grasped her hands. "It will be alright now, dearest Lotte. His voice cannot bind you to the world of darkness. I'm here, I'll always be here." She smiled weakly in return, and the frantic urge to retrieve her rose ring faded as his warmth filled the small window seat. "Tell me a story about Little Lotte, Raoul." The Vicomte with the long, flowing gold hair smiled as a fond memory overtook him, and he faithfully recited, "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair had the reddish glow of soft candlelight, and her soul was as clear and golden as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved when the Angel of Mu-.....Let me tell another story, Christine." While he told the story,he had been brought back to their childhood, when he had been a young boy infatuated with the sight of his own sweet Little Lotte, who had golden-brown eyes and reddish hair. And then he had grown up and reclaimed his sweetheart, just to find that she had been visited by the Angel of Music, just like in the story.
Her eyes had clouded over when he had broke of the telling of the story, but she understood his refusal to finish the tale that praised the Angel of Music. But she also really just wished to hear about her favorite character and so insisted, "Tell me more about Little Lotte, my heart." He smiled at her rare term of endearment, and so said, "Little Lotte let her mind wander. She thought-I am grown up! I must make some important decisions! And so she wondered- am I fonder of riddles or frocks or dancing?" Christine gave a pleased laugh at Raoul's silly intro to the story. She immediately answered, "Why, Lotte is fondest of riddles, of course!" He squeezed her hand, then replied, "Lotte then asked, which do I love more- snow, horses or my fiancée?" His questions weren't just random, they all had to do with a parlor game that the two of them had been fond of when they were children; since it was all about their favorite Little Lotte. The speaker would ask the group what Little Lotte was fondest of; he would give three things, and the rest of the people would have to figure out what she loved best. The rule was that Lotte loved anything with two of the same letters together out of the set, and as children, Raoul and Christine had figured it out the second time they played the game with her father. So Christine said, "Lotte loves her fiancée most." The two e's in "fiancée" had guaranteed her answer, but he also seemed relieved to hear her reply so simply and firmly. They continued their game for hours, giving more silly and light-hearted answers as time went on. They asked each other questions, and reveled in their sweet love like the way a child revels in the sun after being cooped up indoors after a rainy day.
The time quickly passed till Christine could not stop yawning. While they had played their game, Raoul had tugged his love close to him again, till she was resting comfortably on his chest. Yet deep in his heart, his fine-breeding told him his actions were much too forward, the way he had kissed Christine, and held her numerable times, but he could not make himself stop...and he also knew that he had already broken all the rules by just being engaged to her; a chorus girl, no matter how sweet and beautiful. He was doing the exact opposite of what his friends did when they funded an opera, they went to find mistresses...And he had found his future wife, even though when he had originally came to the Opera Populaire, he had been looking for a lovely center of art and maybe some side fun...But then he had seen the Christine of his childhood, and he wanted to protect her and love her, vetoing the chance to sow his wild oats once and for all...Sometimes, when he stared into Christine's beautiful, haunted eyes and heard her angelic voice pleading to the Angel when she thought she was alone, he almost felt regret....But all those treacherous thoughts left his head when he looked down to her sleepy, trusting eyes, and he blurted out the set of questions that he had always wanted to know the answer to. "What does Little Lotte love best; her loving fiancée, her songs or the visits from the Angel of Music?"
The peaceful feeling that the chapel had taken on faded as Christine slowly sat up from Raoul's chest and faced the dark window. She remained silent, her thoughts racing, and her pale face showing the hurt she felt. The young singer had thought her fiancée understood her love for him, but also the way she could not resist Erik's voice, even though he now seemed to be more demon that Angel. The obvious choice to the question was,"fiancée", as it had the double e's, and that she should love him most, but Christine could not bring herself to say it. She instead answered, "Raoul, I am tired of these games. I should like to retire to my room now." He looked at her with shocked eyes, then after accessing her serious expression, offered her his arm and dropped her off just outside of her new room with a very formal, "Goodnight."
As he rode home to his mansion, his mind raced with the thought that Christine did not love him like he loved her. As Christine readied herself for bed, her mind raced with the thought that she had horribly rejected two beloved men that night.