Philippe watched his sad younger brother walk to his room. For the past week, Raoul had been dreadfully depressed. He'll get over it. I know. I was there. Philippe knew very well. Ballet dancers like Daae and Sorelli were very attractive, but below their noble class. Philippe had learned that the hard way. Or did I? Do I still love Sorelli? They were questions that had haunted him since Father had made him say goodbye to the beautiful dancer. For years, Philippe had wondered if he made the right decision telling his lover farewell. Both of them had been crushed when their dreams of eloping had been shattered, and whenever he saw her at the opera, he could see the saddness in her eyes when she looked at him. But I'm happier now. Right? He could only hope that the same would be true for Raoul, that making him turn the Daae girl out was the right thing to do. Philippe still wondered about what could have been with the dancer that stole his heart. Raoul and Christine's relationship brought back too many painful memories. A large part of him was glad that the girl was out. but it made him feel horrribly guilty.
Once he was inside his room, Raoul sat down at his desk and cradled his head in his hands. All that week, he couldn't seem to get Christine out of his mind. Philippe had tried to keep him busy; there had been balls, people to meet, and things to do, but no matter where he was or what he was doing, he couldn't seem to completely escape the pain of losing her. Oh Christine... He regretted submitting to his family and doing his social duty. All he wanted at that moment was a second chance. What did I do? He still didn't understand how he had been able to say all of the things that had broken Christine's heart. It seemed easy at the time; they assured him that he would find someone new, and get over it. However, he and Christine had been through so much together, that whole ghastly nightmare with the Opera Ghost. How could I be so stupid? How could I listen to them?
Raoul was desperate to just communicate with her. That wasn't forbidden. She could still be part of his life. Christine was his truest friend, and he missed her terribly. Raoul knew that letters wouldn't be enough for him, but it would be close. Maybe in another place, another time... His betrayal had changed things, he knew. It was a definate possibility that she was angry with him. Their relationship was definately fractured. But not beyond repair, god willing.
He would write a letter.
The hope of contacting Christine renewed Raoul's sense of purpose. Lately, the young Vicomte had been feeling lost. There had been little for him to do that interested him. Life began to become boring without Christine, his closest companion. Even Philippe, who had always been a doting older brother, seemed less inclined to go anywhere with Raoul. He lifted his head from his hands and sat up a little straighter. Quickly, he fished out some stationery, ink, and a pen out of his drawer and began to write. For a second, he was reminded of the Phantom's threatening notes. The monster. However, his letter was going to be one of an entirely different nature.
As he wrote his letter, Raoul almost felt content. The notion that his love would soon be reading his words calmed the young Vicomte. In his letter, Raoul apologized to Christine. He told her that he regretted what he did to her and that he wished they still could be friends. My family never forbade friendship. Only marriage.
After signing the letter and allowing the ink to dry, Raoul addressed the envelope hurriedly, but still in the neat penmanship he had retained since he was little. With an excitement close to a child sending a letter to Santa, Raoul immediately summoned a carriage to ferry him to the post office to send his letter. I do hope she writes back. Without knowing how Christine felt, that seemed likely.
Antoinette Giry had been up since five o'clock that morning. She had always been an early riser, but lately, her sleeping patterns had been different. The ballet mistress had been restless for the last few weeks. Since the fire at the opera house, she and Meg had been staying with their cousins.
The lack of things to do here was getting to Madame Giry. Sure, there were plenty off chores that she could help with, but none of it compared with the business of directing all of the opera's ballet girls. Lately, Meg had been forced to bear the brunt of her mother's anxiety. There was also another thing that had been plaguing Antoinette; the absence of Christine Daae. For the first time since she was a shy little girl who had come to the opera to be a ballerina, the girl wasn't in walking distance from her surrogate mother. It was a fact that disconcerted Madame Giry.
In her restlessness, she decided to walk to town to see if there was any mail for her cousins. Going into the small village about a mile over was a chore Madame Giry did frequently and readily. The weather was warmer, and walking gave her time to think and to rest from spending so much time with her hyperactive daughter. She and Meg had tried to help their Jacques and Marie out in any way that they could. It was their way of helping to repay their for their kindness and warm hospitality.
"Bonjour Jean. Is there any mail for Jacques or Marie?" she asked the man at the post office when she finally arrived there.
He looked back at her with his brown, heavily-lidded eyes. He was tall with a thick, dark brown beard. Everytime that Mme. Giry had come to see if there was any mail, he had always been a bit gruff, but polite, nevertheless. His name was Jean, and Mme. Giry also knew that he was friends with her cousin Jacques.
"No," he replied, "but this was to a Christine Daae. It was addressed to their place."
Christine? Why would she be here? "I will take it."
She walked home, staring at the letter in her hands with the same puzzled look she gave Meg when she was rambling. The note was addressed to Christine, from Raoul. Why would he send her a letter here?Madame Giry could only conclude one thing after examining the enigma from every angle; Raoul and Christine had broken off their engagement. If that happened, Christine would come here, it was the only place for her to stay, but something must have happened to her on her way. It was simple logic, really. I must go to Paris!