Chapter XII: The Christmas Party

I was very shaken by my confrontation with Erik, so much so that I dared not approach his room during the weeks that followed. To my relief, Christine seemed quite all right and unaware of her Angel's dark sides. With her unexpected triumph, she had become the center of attention at the college overnight. Many people approached her to comment on her outstanding achievement, and she thanked them modestly but rather awkwardly, as one who is not used to that much praise. If anyone asked her how she had learnt to sing so remarkably well, she answered evasively that some things had simply fallen into place lately and that she was happy about that.

Only Carlotta Piangi and her father were not pleased with this recent turn of events. They had both, undoubtedly, counted on Carlotta winning the scholarship. As it was, the smug coloratura soprano's pride had been badly injured, and as a result, her attitude towards Christine changed from disdainful indifference to outright hostility. She had seen Christine talking with Raoul de Chagny, and quickly spread a rumor (for I am quite sure it originated from her) that the two were lovers and that Raoul had influenced his father to give the scholarship to his girlfriend. To anyone who knew Christine well, this was ridiculous, but some of the students who were friends with Carlotta seemed to believe it and treated Christine accordingly. Signor Piangi, too, made a point of criticizing Christine especially harshly on her last lessons before Christmas, but she took it rather well, probably because she now had another teacher whose judgment she valued more. Nevertheless, she confided in me that she would be glad once the semester was over.

The last evening before the holidays, a big Christmas party was held at the college. It was quite an ambitious event which included both students and teachers, and it was to start with a fine dinner and end with dancing to a live brass band. Christine and I both came rather early and watched as the other guests arrived.

First, I spotted my voice teacher, Mme Dubois, who was accompanied by M. Reyer, the choirmaster. He seemed rather more cheerful than usual and I suspected that his company had something to do with that. Then came the Jammes sisters.

"Meg, Christine!" Little Jammes exclaimed happily. "Christmas break at last, eh?"

"Oh, yes!" I said. "I really need a few weeks away from this place."

And from Erik, I thought. But I didn't say it.

"Have you had enough of the infamous assignments of Mlle Popeau?" Louise Jammes said, winking at her sister, who had probably told her all about our classes in pedagogy.

"More than enough!" I said. "I wish..."

In the corner of my eye, I could see Mlle Popeau entering from outside. Luckily, i managed to stop myself in time. It seemed like everyone at the college was here tonight!

"What are you going to do this Christmas?" Louise asked, turning to Christine, who had said nothing so far.

"I don't know", she answered. "I might practice some singing, there are some things I would like to work on..."

"Trying to give us all a bad conscience for taking some time off, are you?" Little Jammes joked. "Remember, all work and no play..."

"I'm sorry", Christine said. "I didn't mean... Of course, I will be doing other things as well..."

Christine seemed quite uncomfortable. I had the impression she didn't want to appear too ambitious or too eager to succeed. She had always been very humble by nature, and sometimes admitted to feeling a little guilty for stepping into the spotlight.

My thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation.

"It's Raoul de Chagny!" Louise said. "Philippe de Chagny's son. Christine, isn't he your..."

"Certainly not!" Christine said indignantly, but there was a slight blush on her cheeks. She turned away abruptly, but Raoul had already seen her.

"Christine!" he said. "I am so glad to see you again - I have been trying to get hold of you for weeks. Didn't you get my text messages?"

"I didn't know how to reply", Christine answered. "I was very busy and had a lot on my mind."

"I'm sorry", Raoul said, sounding a little hurt. "I didn't mean to intrude, it was just that when we talked earlier I got the impression you were happy to meet me, so I thought..."

"I was", Christine said. "It's just that my music must come first. Surely, you understand that?"

"Well", Raoul said, "tonight at least you don't have a lesson, so we can celebrate at last. See, they are starting to let everybody in to the dining room now. Let's go!"

The "dining room" was, in fact, one of the largest classrooms, which was sometimes used for seminars and concerts. This evening, it had been furnished with several long tables with room for more than two hundred guests. A lavish buffet with numerous dishes had been prepared, and we all helped ourselves to the food, taking a good deal more than we could actually eat simply because it looked so delicious. Then I sat down at one of the tables with Raoul, Christine and the Jammes sisters. We were soon joined by Pauline, one of the singers who had also hoped to win the de Chagny scholarship, but who was decent enough not to bear a grudge against Christine.

"Quite good food, this", she said with her mouth half full. "I fear the entertainment will be worse, though!"

She pointed with her fork at M. Ivanovich, my piano professor who, after more than three months, still had great difficulty remembering my name - he tended to call me Peggy when he was tired. He had now risen from his seat and was evidently preparing to make a long and tedious speech.

"Dear friends", he said with his strong Russian accent, "I have worked here for a very long time, probably since before many of you were born. The college has changed a lot in the past twenty years, for example, who could forget our former headmaster, the great M. ... (here followed a pause which was a little too long to be intentional) Lefèvre?"

Louise Jammes sighed.

"Here we go again", she whispered to Pauline.

It was obvious that anyone not new to the college had already heard this speech at least once before. M. Ivanovich went on to reminisce about the old days, telling several pointless stories from the past, sometimes consulting his notes, which he had great difficulty reading, even with his strong glasses.

"As soon as I have finished dessert, I'm off to the percussion room", said Pauline under her breath to the Jammes sisters.

They nodded in agreement. When I looked at them inquiringly, Pauline explained to me that it was something of a tradition for the percussionists to have their own secret Christmas party the same evening as the official one. It was, as she put it, where all the action was. Only a select few knew that the party existed, and Pauline had been invited because she was on "very friendly terms" with one of the percussion students.

After we had had dessert, Pauline excused herself and went out of the room, throwing a meaningful glance at us. A few minutes later, Louise and Little Jammes rose and followed her. I prepared to go with them, but Christine decided to stay behind with Raoul. As I left the room, I could hear them talking:

"Do you remember how we used to go story-hunting in Sweden when we were children?" Raoul said. "We asked everyone in the neighborhood to tell us their best story and then you wrote them down in a book."

"I had to translate them for you as well," Christine laughed, "because you didn't know any Swedish and some of the old people didn't even speak English, let alone French!"

"Do you still have the book?"

"Of course!" Christine said. "I love those old stories. You know, I sometimes wonder if there isn't more truth to them than one might believe. At least, lately I've been thinking that everything is possible..."

I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation, in fact, it hadn't been my intention to listen to it at all. It was just that I had to retrieve my handbag which had slipped to the floor, and since it was fairly dark in the room, and even more so under the dining table, this took a while. When I finally came out into the corridor, Pauline and the Jammes sisters had already started walking, thinking that I had changed my mind about going to the percussion party. I hurried to catch up with them and we made our way to that secluded spot on the second floor which was the percussionists' domain.

What Pauline had said was true. This was indeed a much more entertaining party, and a much more cheerful crowd. I could see that there were a lot of half empty wine bottles on the tables, which might account for some, but not all, of the Christmas spirit we could sense as we entered. The room was rather small and full of music instruments: vibraphones, drums, timpani, a second rate grand piano which was now being used as a buffet table. Everyone in the percussion class had helped bring some food and drink, and they had obviously just finished eating when we arrived. We were greeted warmly by the percussionists as soon as we had been introduced as friends of Pauline and were offered seats by their table as the entertainment began.

It was very amusing, and very well done. The percussion students performed Christmas songs with newly created lyrics, most of which were either dirty or politically incorrect. Still, they sang and played very well and had made quite elaborate musical arrangements, even though no music theory professor would ever give them credit for that. The performers received thunderous applause.

After that, it was declared that we would dance around the Christmas tree. The tree in question was a large cactus, which in honor of the occasion had been tastefully decorated. We danced around it quite wildly for a while, until somebody accidentally knocked it over and then we danced on top of the Christmas tree instead. I have rarely laughed so much in my life, and when I finally left the percussion room I was soaked with sweat and it was past midnight.

As I went down the stairs to join the official Christmas party guests, who had now also started dancing, but in a more civilized manner, I came to think of Christine. She had suggested earlier in the evening that we share a taxi home, and we had agreed to leave the college at midnight, since Christine didn't want to stay up too late. I was sure that she was waiting for me, wondering what took me so long, and I felt a little guilty.

But even though I looked everywhere, I couldn't find her. At last I spotted Raoul, who was sitting in a corner, looking concerned.

"Hi Raoul, have you seen Christine?" I asked.

Raoul started.

"Oh, it's you, Meg", he said, foolishly. "No, she went to buy some mineral water an hour ago and she hasn't returned. I don't know where she's gone - I was hoping to dance with her."

"She has turned off her cell phone", I said, after having tried to call her. "Maybe she was tired and went home to bed."

Raoul said nothing, but I could see in his eyes that he was worried Christine might have gone home with someone else. I, too, was worried, but for a different reason. It had occurred to me that I hadn't seen Erik anywhere at the party, and I had been enjoying myself so much these past few hours that I had forgotten about him completely. Now, I needed to find out if he played a part in Christine's sudden disappearance. I sincerely hoped not. I hoped that she was still at the party, somewhere I hadn't looked, or better yet, at home. In all likelihood, I was overreacting to something which probably had a very simple and harmless explanation.

Excusing myself, I left Raoul and descended to the basement corridor. It was empty and there was no sign of anyone having been there this evening. At least that was a relief! I searched for a while, but since I was unable to find Christine anywhere at the college, I finally decided to go home to see if she was there. All I had to do was get my coat, which was in my locker.

When I approached the locker, I saw the note. It was a small white sealed envelope attached to the door of my locker with some tape. I tore it open and found, to my surprise, that it contained a sonnet, written in red ink:

"Dear Meg, you need not fret about Christine.
She is with me, her tutor, and concerning
her education, now at last she's learning
to raise her voice to heights as yet unseen.

Invent an answer as to where she's been,
where she is now, and when she'll be returning!
Don't speak of me, for if my ears are burning,
I'll have to act (if you know what I mean).

If curiosity has lost its charm,
a girl who knows discretion to be wise
will find there is no reason for alarm.

Christine will reappear before your eyes,
for she is safe and will not come to harm.
Believe me, for an Angel never lies."