Chapter 2: Opera Populaire, Paris, France, 1881

Christine heard the boisterous, yet charming music long before she saw anyone. Excitement rushed over her as she neared the opera house's elaborate stage. The ballerinas and singing ensemble suddenly appeared as she peered around the backstage corner.

With feasting and dancing and song
Tonight in celebration
We greet the victorious throng
Returned to bring salvation

The trumpet of Carthage resound
Hear, Romans, now and tremble
Hark to our step on ground
Hear the drums!
Hannibal comes!

"Mon cheries! Perfection! Listen to the beats! Let the music flow through you as you dance!"

A commanding voice carried over Maestro Reyer's orchestra, causing Christine to look over towards the edge of the stage. Her head held regally and contemptuously, Antoinette Giry tapped her cane to the elite orchestra's beats.

"Angelique, you are falling behind! Count! Jacqueline, look up, my dear, at the audience. You are not performing for your toes!"

Young Daaé willed every fiber of her being from running to embrace the older woman. But that would be entirely unladylike; not that it really mattered to her, but she was sure that wouldn't be a desirable first impression after ten long years.

Oh, Antoinette how I have missed you…

Unable to contain herself any longer, Christine stepped forward, but short by a sudden announcement. Several men she didn't recognize stood at the front of the rehearsal. A tall, light-haired man spoke first.

"Ladies and gentlemen-Madame Giry thank you-may I have your attention please?"

"Monsieur Lefèvre I am rehearsing!" the maestro exclaimed quite exasperated. It was opening night after all, and there was no time to have useless, gawking businessmen about.

"Just for a moment Maestro Reyer and I will be out of your way." The manager replied.

Reluctantly, Maestro Reyer silenced his orchestra with Madame Giry following suit, demanding her ballerinas to quiet down.

"Thank you, Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyer. As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these are all true-"

"Ah ha!" An over-made up, heavily dressed woman exclaimed haughtily. "I knew it!" Low murmuring and muttering buzzed on the stage. Antoinette rolled her eyes and flipped her long, thick braid with annoyance, much to Christine's amusement. Lefèvre, now the officially retired ex-manager, continued.

"-and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles André."

The assembled actors and theatre staff clapped enthusiastically. Watching from behind them in the shadows, Christine couldn't tell if they were welcoming the new owners or simply bidding the old one adieu.

"I am sure you have read of their recent fortune amassed in the junk business." Monsieur Lefèvre sniffed.

"Scrap metal," the short one, Monsieur André, snapped defensively. "Actually."

Christine stifled a giggle. The man's harsh retort struck her as oddly comical by his inferior height and 18th century wig-like hair.

"Yes, well that's the past!" Monsieur Firmin now spoke, a tall, imposing man with dark brown hair and handsome features, "We are simply overjoyed at being here."

"That's because you haven't met the cast," Lefèvre muttered under his breath. "Gentlemen, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now."

The over-made up, heavily dressed woman stepped forward, her jeweled fingers outstretched for the new owners to kiss.

"Your wish is our command, Signora." Firmin said passionately when he had kissed Carlotta's hand.

"Ahem," a ridiculously dressed man with a blue wig and red eyeshadow coughed impatiently.

"And Signor Ubaldo Piangi." Lefèvre hastily introduced.

André and Firmin bowed sweepingly.

"And finally, Madame Giry, our headmistress of ballet and Monsieur Reyer, our maestro."

The gentlemen bowed to both in turn.

"We are looking forward to working along side of you all to be sure," Firmin smiled broadly, clearly excited at the prospect of owning the world-renowned Opera Populaire. "Now we have one last announcement. Let us introduce you to our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny!"

Christine saw a blonde-haired young man step out from her right. Christine gasped and involuntarily backed further in the shadows of backstage.

It can't be…not here…not now!

But much to her dismay, it was none other than Raoul, the last person on earth she wanted to see.

"I am honored to be back at the Opera Populaire," he said happily. Raoul's charming smile immediately endeared the women to eye him a bit closer. "I have many pleasant memories of this fine Opera house and I am looking forward to the première of Hannibal tonight, but I believe I am keeping you from your rehearsal. I will let you resume maestro. Until tonight then?"

"Thank you, monsieur le Vicomte," Reyer sighed. His patience had clearly worn very thin.

Raoul…always the politician…smoothes over the roughest sheets with a smile and few flattering words... Christine thought darkly as she saw the young man exit on the far side of the theatre hurriedly.

He was certainly a new problem she didn't foresee.

He can't help being charming…forgive him Lotte…it happened over 10 years ago… her conscience whispered into her gloomy thoughts.

I may forgive him, but I will never forget what he did. Never.

"Lotte, where are you going?" Christine turned around to face her tall, lean-framed fourteen-year old cousin. Raoul de Chagny loomed over her, his deep sea-green eyes peering at her curiously.

"Nowhere." The seven-year old replied mysteriously.

"Liar."

"Don't call me that Raoul!"

"I can say what I want. You can't stop me, Lotte." Raoul leaned close to the little girl's face, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "But if you want me to stop, tell me where you are going."

Christine hesitated. If she told him, he would then know her secret, if she didn't, he could tell Papa. She decided to stall.

"What makes you think I am going anywhere?"

Raoul rolled his eyes, annoyed. "I am not stupid, Lotte. You have been sneaking food out of the kitchen lately, and you were mumbling something about seeing an angel of some sort when I walked in the room."

"Why did you walk in here?" she questioned evasively.

"Lotte, you're stalling. All I have to do is call Uncle Gustave…"

"Fine!" Christine relented angrily. "But you have to promise you won't tell anybody. Including Meg. "

Raoul frowned. "Why not?"

"Because I said so my dear Raoul." Christine said sweetly. "Or do love her too much?"

"No." Raoul mumbled, "Fine. I won't tell Meg."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Christine paused dramatically. "Cross your heart?"

"Oh for the love of all the saints Christine! I swear on my honor as a de Chagny! Are you happy now?"

Christine sighed. "I guess it will have to do. Follow me."

The little girl picked up her carefully prepared basket with the "borrowed" food and walked toward the end of the hall the room that she, Meg, and Antoinette shared. She stood in front the floor length mirror and she peered back over her shoulder to stare critically at her cousin.

"Are you sure you want to come into the coldest, darkest, scariest place in France?" she whispered strangely, doing her best to make Raoul leave.

"What? The mirror?" Raoul retorted angrily. "Hurry up Lotte. I may just call your father after all..."

Christine shrugged. "As you wish Vicomte."

Setting her basket on the floor, Christine pushed with all her strength against the mirror. Much to Raoul's astonishment it slid open to reveal a dark passageway leading to the bowels of the opera house.

Once more grabbing her basket, Christine rushed excitedly into the pitch-black tunnel.

"Lotte wait for me!"

Raoul ran to catch up with his cousin. As soon as he stepped past the mirror, the mirror slammed shut behind him, causing him to jump nervously.

"What a strange mirror…" he mused aloud as he looked through glass into the room he just left. "How did you figure it out Christine?"

Silence.

"Christine?" Raoul called again. Then something crawled on his foot. "Ah! Rats!" He kicked off the rodent blindly and called again, this time quite frantically. "Christine! Where are you?"

It was so dark…he couldn't see anything…

"Christine!"

"I am right here you big ninny! Stop shouting!" Raoul saw Christine come up from somewhere down the passage, a lighted torch in her hand.

"That wasn't funny, Christine Aminta-Marie."

"That's what you get for calling me a liar."

"You are so immature."

"Excuse me? And who has the torch?" Christine challenged.

Raoul grumbled something incoherent. "Can we just get out of here?" he finally mumbled, shivering from a sudden draft.

"Not yet. Stay close and you won't lose me. Hopefully." Christine smirked.

Raoul followed his cousin further down the tunnel, a very uneasy feeling setting in his stomach…