Deleted scene from 'The Angel Descends'. Would have gone somewhere around Chapter 11 or 12.

Context: Christine has recently found out that Erik is the Phantom. She asks Raoul to provide her with lessons with a new instructor. Then, however, she realizes she is still in love with Erik, and decides she isn't comfortable accepting lessons from Raoul, because it puts her in a position of obligation to him.

"My dear," said Christine's new vocal instructor, Pauline Viardot-García, "I need to have a word with you."

Christine had received a telegram from Madame Viardot that morning, directing her to come to her immense house on the Boulevard Saint-Germain instead of her studio.

She was now perched on a dainty sofa with the most expensive-tasting cup of coffee she had ever had, in a handsome china cup that no doubt cost a week of her salary.

This must be a dream, she thought giddily. She was sitting in her idol's house, like a guest, like they were friends. To make matters still more surreal, said idol was interrogating her about her romantic affairs. She thought she might implode from the sheer strangeness of it all.

"That little Vicomte told me that you were going to show up today and say you can't take lessons with me any more," Pauline told her, "and that I should ignore you because you were being unreasonable and would come round eventually."

Christine stifled a gasp.

"We women have all heard that tune before," Pauline said. "I should like to hear this in your own words." She raised an eyebrow. "What is going on?"

Christine swallowed.

It was difficult for a singer to have any distance in their relationship with her vocal instructor, and Pauline was particularly forthright.

They had known each other three days, and already Pauline had seized Christine's ribcage in both hands and squeezed it, bid her blow against her hand to test her breath, commanded her to engage her pelvic floor, closely examined the position of her tongue in her mouth, informed her she wasn't holding her breasts high enough, and inquired about her menstrual cycle.

(All of those things were perfectly standard, for all of them affected a singer's voice. Mercifully, though, Erik had never done any of them. Perhaps she might have progressed more quickly if he had. But when she tried to picture him discussing any of them, she could only imagine that he would immediately perish from embarrassment and collapse to the floor. Poor Erik. Dear Erik. No... he was not dear to her. She must remember that. There would never be anything between them. She must learn to live with that fact.)

After all that, for Pauline to be asking about her romantic difficulties was not exactly crossing a boundary.

"To continue to accept his generosity… would not be right," Christine said.

"I see." Pauline was astute, understanding at once. She was also discreet. "Well, I certainly won't press you to remain with him if you wish to go."

"Thank you. I am sorry."

"Don't be," Pauline said. "I'm sure you were not to blame."

"I don't know," Christine said wanly.

"But what will you do now?" Pauline said. "Will you go back to your old instructor? No, Louis, go away - you can't come in right now." This to her elderly, doting husband, who had just come in the door.

Louis obediently disappeared, closing the door. Pauline smiled after him. "He is a pleasant fellow," she said, which made Christine laugh.

"I can't go back to him," Christine said when they were alone.

"Oh," Pauline said.

I… Well, you might as well know I am in love with him."

"Oh! You know, I suspected something of the kind."

"That was why I stopped lessons with him," Christine said. Well, that was the truth, or at least twenty-five percent of it, at any rate.

"That was probably wise," Pauline said. "Those kinds of things can grow ugly. Never mix business and pleasure. Personally, I say avoid romance altogether."

"I am beginning to agree."

"Either don't marry at all, or take a cue from me and find some dependable, sedate older man who won't get in your way," Pauline said. "Not some character who would want all the limelight for himself."

"Yes. Do you really suppose I will be able to do that?" Christine asked. "Find a husband who will come with me on all my tours?" Privately she added, And hopefully not a husband who is twenty-one years older than me, like yours is…

"You have been researching me!" Pauline said with a smile.

Christine blushed. "I confess I am rather starstruck."

"Not to worry," said Pauline.

"I have admired you for years."

"Well, of course."

Christine laughed.

"Who was your old instructor, incidentally?" Pauline asked. "You've been very quiet about that."

"No-one I'm proud to say I took lessons from," Christine said. "His name is Alphonse Joseph Masson." By habit, she said as little about him as possible.

Pauline raised an eyebrow. "You're in love with an Alphonse?"

"I acknowledge my bad taste."

Pauline laughed. "I don't suppose he looks like an Alphonse, or you wouldn't be in love with him."

"Ah- no." This sounded like a compliment, but Christine could not be sure. She puzzled about the matter in the back of her mind for a short while as the conversation went on, though her attention was soon drawn back to Erik. It seemed she could never be permitted to stop thinking of him for more than a few moments. This was most irritating. Let me alone, Erik, you miserable fool.

"It's curious," Pauline said. "I've never heard of him, and I've heard of all the good vocal technicians in Paris."

"He doesn't advertise."

"Still."

"It is a secret." Christine was aware of how questionable this sounded, and how foolish she must appear.

"A secret?" Pauline was instantly on the alert. Christine could tell she was ready to swoop down like a dragon to protect her student's voice.

"He doesn't like me to talk about him."

"That is very strange," Pauline said. "Why on earth wouldn't he want people to know you were his pupil? I cannot think of a better advertisement than you - leading roles at the Opéra at twenty-one. And your voice!"

Christine flushed, dizzied with happiness at such a compliment from her hero. "Thank you," she said, dazzled. "I don't know. But I don't think he is looking for other students."

"What musician isn't looking for students? Is he retiring? No, he can't possibly be old enough, if you're in love with him."

Christine shrugged. "No, he is about thirty." At least, I think he is... Heaven only know what was really true about him. Sometimes she half-wondered if he even really existed.

"I don't understand any of this," Pauline said. "Are you sure he is a legitimate practitioner?"

"No."

"Has he a diploma of any kind?" Pauline asked.

"Not that I know of," Christine confessed.

"You must be careful, my dear. I know you aren't gullible-"

"-I rather am, though!" Christine chuckled.

Pauline laughed. "No. You have seen too much for that. But there are a great many dubious instructors out there. They don't care how much damage they do. Every girl whose parents have money to throw at it wants to become a diva, so it is a lucrative business for charlatans. Follow the wrong advice and you could lose your voice."

There are a great many fake angels out there too, Christine thought wryly. Not wanting to speak badly of Erik, she said, "He is very good."

"Well, I cannot argue with your technique. You have been well-prepared - though, are you sure you are not just a natural singer? It might not have much to do with him."

"Oh, no," Christine said so earnestly that Pauline laughed. "You didn't hear me before. I sang like somebody banging on a pot before he found me. I couldn't even have sung at the Café Jacques."

"Hm," Pauline said. "What was he charging you?"

"Ah- nothing, as it happens."

"Nothing? Well, that puts a different color on things, to be sure. He must really be in love with you."

Christine's heart began to pound. "What? No! Not in the least."

"Well," Pauline said. "That isn't my affair to sort out. Anyway, you're certainly better off without the Vicomte."

"I am?"

"He'd have yanked you off the stage the moment he got you down the aisle, mark my words," Pauline said. "I know that sort of man. The trouble is, of course, how to manage in this business without his money. Fortunately, I am in a position to do something about that part of your problem, at least. Now - how much can you afford to pay me?"

"Madame?" Christine said blankly.

"Call me Pauline, for Heaven's sake. How much could you manage?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Why - are you a simpleton?" Pauline said.

"Perhaps I am!" Christine said wryly.

Pauline laughed. "Well, let me help you. What do you think - thirty francs a month?"

Christine could hardly speak. "Madame, I can't possibly accept!"

"I want to help you."

"I didn't mean to imply… I wasn't asking…"

"I know you didn't," Pauline said. "In fact, you did everything possible to stop me finding out what a pickle you were in. It never even occurred to you to ask for a handout. That is part of why I am offering."

"But… this is too much - you are being too generous!"

Pauline sighed theatrically. "Listen to me, my dear. You are going to make me famous. Well, even more famous than I already am. You are going to be a positively enormous feather in my cap. I need hardly tell you this stays in this room. I've never done this for anyone else, nor do I intend to."

"Madame! Oh, thank you, Madame! I cannot begin to express…" Christine broke down in sobs.

"Say no more about it," Pauline ordered. "You're beginning to embarrass me. Now, do me a favor, and be sure you don't go back to that Masson character anymore!"

Christine burst into dejected laughter. "I believe, Madame, I may safely promise you never to do that!"