"Of course I am! I�ve told you a hundred times, I�m fine."
"But Christine," Erik protested, looking over Christine�s shoulder in the mirror to see her face, "you haven�t performed since Don Juan--"
"Erik, darling." Christine turned to him and placed her hands on his face. "I can�t stay away forever. And I couldn�t back out if I wanted to--Madame Giry told me not twenty minutes ago that the house is already almost full--it�s completely sold out. Andr� said that the next ten performances I�m scheduled in are sold out! It�s bad enough that no one knows why I haven�t performed in so long..."
"Christine," he murmured, "I�ve told you why we can�t--"
"I don�t want to be silent forever, Erik. I want people to know that my name really isn�t Christine Daa� anymore, even if that is what�s written on the programs." She smiled at him. "Besides, it�s not as though we can keep quiet forever about little Meg. Someone is going to discover soon enough that I--we have a child." She glanced over to the small cradle next to her dressing table, where two-month-old Margaret Aminta slept.
"I�ve told you," he said, "if anyone discovers who you�re married to, they�re likely to--"
"The managers know, and they haven�t done anything. Madame Giry knows. And Rao--"
"It�s dangerous enough having Andr� and Firmin know, but when he knows too..."
"Erik, you know he�s off on that Requin expedition, searching for survivors from the D�Artois voyage. He won�t be back for months. Besides, he would never say anything to anyone. I know he wouldn�t."
"Even though he tried to kill me once?"
"You tried to kill him too," she gently reminded.
Erik sighed. "It just makes me nervous, your going into the limelight again." He pulled her close. "Christine, I love you, and if anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself."
"Nothing is going to happen!" she insisted. "I promise you, I�ll be fine."
"Christine--"
"Oh, Erik. I love you, but you�re worrying too much. Please, just relax. You�ll be there tonight, won�t you? Madame Giry said she would stay with the baby."
"Of course," he said. "I wouldn�t miss it for the world."
"Madame Giry made sure that Box Five was reserved for you."
"Now, Christine, that�s the spot everyone would expect me to be!"
"They won�t be looking for you. Most of the people probably have never heard of the �Phantom�." She laughed softly. "And even if they have, they heard wrong. There is no Phantom of the Opera. Only my wonderful Erik."
"Christine--"
"Sshhh," she whispered. "It�s nearly time for the opera to begin. Get the baby for me, would you? She needs to eat before I go on."
Erik went to retrieve his prized daughter from her cradle. "She�s been asleep for the longest time, hasn�t she?"
"She�ll probably be awake after she eats, but I don�t think you can take her with you to the performance," Christine told the doting father. "She�ll draw too much attention."
"I hate leaving her here."
"Madame Giry will take good care of her, darling." Christine reached for the baby and cuddled her close as she sat in the chair next to her table.
"But Madame Giry can�t really get away to watch her, can she? She�s the ballet mistress, after all."
"She�s put Meg in charge for the night," Christine spoke of her Meg Giry, her baby�s namesake. "I know Meg will be capable--after all, the ballet girls have never really paid much attention to their directions anyway."
"The dancing is always a lamentable mess, isn�t it?"
"Yes, exactly. But don�t tell anyone I said that," Christine giggled.
"Don�t worry," Erik said, a sudden edge of resent to his voice. "I won�t be speaking to anyone tonight."
"Oh, Erik," Christine murmured, "you mustn�t do this to yourself."
"No one would want to speak to this hideous face." He turned away from the mirror.
"Erik--"
"Christine, don�t, please. We�ve discussed this to no end, and it stays the same. Not tonight."
Christine sighed. "If I accept you how you are, why won�t others?"
"They won�t," he said.
"But if you don�t try--"
He turned to face her, and she saw the pain that had once again been brought to his eyes. "Not tonight, Christine. Please."
She directed her attention to little Meg. "I�m sorry," she whispered to her husband.
He came to her side and kissed her forehead softly. "Don�t worry about me," he said. "As long as I have you and our darling Meg, I don�t need anything else."
A knock at the door ended the talk. Erik looked to Christine.
"Probably Madame Giry," she whispered, standing and placing baby Meg in Erik�s arms. "Who is it?" she asked as she went to the door.
"It�s only me, my dear," came Mme. Giry�s voice. "May I come in?"
"Of course." Christine cautiously opened the door to peek out. "You�re alone, aren�t you?"
"Yes."
"Come in, then." Christine ushered her former instructor into the room, locking the door behind her. "Erik, you remember Madame Giry..." She sent her husband a look--Please, Erik, don�t be cold...
She was surprised--he was playing the part of a perfect gentleman. "Madame."
"Monsieur," Mme. Giry said, the sight of his unmasked face only flustering her for a fraction of a second. "And this must be your daughter. I was so pleased that you named her after Meg. Such an honor!" She touched the baby�s face, hardly seeming to notice that she was in the presence of the former �Phantom�.
"Meg has always been my dearest friend," Christine said. "Though I think it will be hard to remember which Meg is which... Our little Meg may have to go by her full name."
"Christine, dear," Mme. Giry said, appraising Christine�s current attire--a dressing gown, "it�s nearly eight. You need to get dressed."
"Yes, I know. I just finished feeding the baby, and I was going to get my dress out," she said.
"Well," Erik said, obviously uncomfortable with another person in the room, "I had better be going now--"
"Christine," he murmured, as he reluctantly placed Meg in Mme. Giry�s arms.
Madame Giry apparently sensed their tension and walked toward Christine�s open closet door.
"You can�t just run off without telling me goodbye," Christine murmured, placing her hands on Erik�s shoulders.
"I wasn�t--"
"Erik!"
"All right," he admitted. "So I was. I�m sorry." His arms encircled her waist and she tilted her head up for his kiss.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I love you too," he said. "I�ll be waiting for you behind the mirror afterward. Don�t linger too long."
"It�s my first night back, Erik. There will be dozens of people through here--I�ll have to stay and greet some of them. At least the managers."
"That�s why I�ll be behind the mirror. When you�re ready--when you�re alone, I�ll come out and get you."
"I wish you wouldn�t hide behind that mirror," she murmured. "If you would only give people a chance--"
"Christine. Please."
"I�m sorry. I won�t linger afterwards. I�ll hurry."
"Thank you. You�ll be wonderful tonight."
"Oh Erik, you�ve always said that. But I�ve got to get ready, or I�ll be late."
Erik bestowed another kiss on her forehead, then went through the mirror to take an out-of-view path to his box, while Christine impatiently waited for her hairdresser.
It was five minutes until the start of the opera by the time she was finally ready. She thanked Mme. Giry, kissed baby Meg�s cheek, and raced off down the hall toward the stage.
"Christine! Is it really you?"
Christine turned her head as she hurried along. "Meg?"
Her friend from the corps de ballet scurried to catch up with her. "I heard you were going to be here tonight, but I wasn�t sure I believed it--that is, until I saw how full the opera house is! Christine, it looks like the old days!" Meg caught up and threw her arms around Christine. "I�ve missed you so! Why haven�t you been back, anyway? It hasn�t been the same around here--those substitutes the managers got can�t sing worth anything, and the patrons have all been complaining about it. Mother said the whole house is sold tonight--a full house, Christine!"
"Oh, Meg!" Christine laughed at her friend�s chatter. "It�s so wonderful to see you! But I�ve got to go--I�m going to miss the first scene otherwise!"
"Oh, of course," Meg said, pulling Christine along the hall. "Did you hear that I�m in charge of the ballet tonight? Mother had something to do--she never did say what--so I have to be the dance instructor. Oh, Christine, I�m so afraid that I�ll mess something up!"
Meg hadn�t been told that her mother was watching Christine�s child? Surely she knew of her namesake�s birth...
But there wasn�t time to ask. "Miss Daa�!" called Reyer in a frantic whisper from the now-visible backstage area. "You are due onstage in less than one minute! You must hurry!"
"You�ll be wonderful, Meg," Christine said. "I�ll see you later." She rushed breathlessly to Reyer, who waved her on to her entrance point. It seemed he was correct--within thirty seconds, she was onstage.
The theater had never seemed so full, not even on her first night... The night that had started everything. She quickly shook from her mind that thought. Tonight was about performing again, on the old stage, in one of the old operas, with the old audience. She glanced up at Box Five as she began singing and smiled to see Erik sitting in the shadows, beyond view from anyone but herself.
To sing on the stage again was glorious. She threw herself full-force into the part she portrayed, and the audience apparently loved her. They applauded for what seemed ages after the first act, while Christine raced back to her dressing room to check baby Meg.
She could hear the baby�s cries as she ran to the room, and she hurried inside. "Has she been upset long?" she asked.
Mme. Giry shook her head. "I believe she�s only hungry."
"I have to hurry--I only have twenty minutes, and I have to be in the other costume before then--"
Mme. Giry had already set the baby down and was undoing the long row of miniature buttons on Christine�s dress. "Is your other costume ready?"
"Yes--well, I think it is. I didn�t get to look at it today. It�s in the closet, the blue one."
Mme. Giry hurried to find the dress as Christine comforted the crying baby.
The twenty-minute intermission went much too fast for luxury, and Christine was sure that poor Meg�s stomach was not adequately filled, even though the baby settled down in her cradle and went to sleep. "If she starts crying again, Mme. Giry, get Erik. He�ll be able to calm her down. I don�t want anyone to hear her in here after the performance--"
"Don�t worry, my dear," Mme. Giry said, whisking Christine out the door. "We�ll be fine."
Christine couldn�t help worrying. She was more nervous through the second act, but she managed to carry on as if everything was normal. Grateful that the opera of the night was only two acts long instead of three like most, she looked forward to the final song.
It finally came, and she was able to breathe an invisible sigh of relief as she sang. She would make it through now. Or at least she thought she would, until she glanced up at Box Five.
It was empty. Erik was gone.
This puzzled her. Had Meg awakened, and cried to no end? Surely not! Meg was usually such a wonderful baby...
Well, she thought as she sang the words of the aria, at least it was almost over.
But then she glanced at the box opposite number five, the one traditionally used by the managers, and her heart nearly stopped beating. It couldn�t be. Her voice lodged somewhere between her throat and her lips, and Jacques, the tenor who had replaced the unfortunate Piangi two years before, gave her a startled look as she stood shocked, silent.
Her eyes locked on those of the man in the box for a split-second, then she tore her gaze away and relocated her voice, masking her disbelief and dismay before the audience caught on.
Suddenly the twenty remaining measures seemed to be stretching out as a lifetime in front of her. Her concentration blown, she was unsure how she reached the high note at the end of the song. Finally, the curtain dropped and she gasped for breath.
It can�t be! her head screamed. It can�t be him!
But she knew it was. She turned toward the hall, wanting nothing more than to get away from the stage, from the sight of--
"Miss Daa�! The curtain call!" someone called.
"I can�t!" she exclaimed.
"You must! Listen to the audience!"
Christine paused to listen. It was true. She had no choice. The thunderous applause would continue until she went onstage for her bows. She reluctantly joined Jacques as the curtain went back up.
The whole crowd was on their feet, cheering and whistling and applauding her to no visible end. She managed a smile somehow, glancing around the audience but avoiding the manager�s box. She could not look at him, she couldn�t. As she bowed again, though, her eyes somehow lifted to him.
He caught her gaze and pulled a rose from his pocket, tossing it to the stage so it landed directly at her feet. "Christine..." she saw him mouth.
She again forced her gaze away and bowed. The curtain finally closed as Jacques backed up, beckoning her to follow.
She knew she shouldn�t have, but she stooped and grabbed the rose at her feet. She hurried away from the stage, but paused backstage to allow a glance at the rose.
A piece of paper protruded from the center of the blossom. She trembled as she pulled it out and unrolled it.
My dear Christine, it read,
I simply must see you. Please, meet me tomorrow, as soon as it is dark, at the mausoleum--alone. Please, Christine, I must speak to you.
Raoul
Christine crumbled the note in her fist and, trembling uncontrollably, ran toward her dressing room.
