Chapter Three

It was a busy day at the Opera Populaire. The costumes for the night's performance were not finished, Carlotta was putting her brattiness to its full capabilities, Monsieur Lefevre was missing, and Catherine's daughter had disappeared. Catherine sighed.

"Christine!" she called, summoning the sixteen year old to her.
"Yes, Madame?"

"Find my daughter, will you? She's gone again, and we must rehearse!" Christine nodded and rushed off to find Meg. The girl was obviously not in the dormitories or on stage,and Buquet would have sent her down if her curious nature took her to the rafters. Christine groaned. She knew where Meg would be - and where she shouldn't be, not today, not now.

Christine slipped through one high arch after the next, going down, down, into the basement of the opera house. Here, her prediction proved true. "Meg, what are you doing?"

Meg jumped up from where she had knelt before Christine's shrine to her father. "Christine!"
Christine looked at her friend, a mixture of anger and pity rising in her bosom towards the tiny blonde.

"Forgive me, Christine. I never knew my father... I... I'm sorry."

Christine smiled and put arms around her friend. "I understand. Come, your mother wants you." Meg wiped the tears from her eyes, and they returned to the stage.

"What's going on?" Christine asked Madame Giry, glancing around the stage at the silent people, at the two strangers who stood with Monsieur Lefevre.

"Monsieur is retiring," Madame Giry whispered in reply, "Messieurs Firmin and Andre are going to manage the Opera Populaire." Christine nodded and returned her attention to the men, who were now speaking.

"And we are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagney!" the tall one was saying. He gestured to the man in the shadows, and he approached. Christine gasped.
"It's Raoul!” she whispered excitedly. Meg nodded, remembering those times by the sea with the young vicomte and Christine.

The gentlemen continued to speak, but Christine heard and saw only the Vicomte. Saw him kiss Carlotta's hand, saw him bow to Piangi. He was even more debonaire than she had remembered... and she felt more for him than she remembered ever feeling before.

Christine was startled out of her reverie by a scream from Meg. "Oh, my god!" she cried, pointing to the rafters. Christine's eyes grew wide, then her hand flew to cover her mouth, as from the ceiling came the giant rolling and rumbling of a huge piece of scenery falling from its place – right on top of Carlotta.

She giggled, "They talk about singing breaking glass! Her singing brings down the scenery all of its own accord." A worried look stained her face, though, as she watched the unfolding events.
"Oh my god, signora, are you all right?" Monsieur Reyer cried.

"Aaa aa aaaaahhhh!" Carlotta sobbed pathetically. "I 'ate you! Lift it up!" Piangi rushed over to help her.

"He's here - the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg whispered excitedly. Her face was lit up with the lively curiosity that seemed to follow her everywhere.

"Signora, are you alright?" Monsieur Leferve asked monotonously, glad he was finally retiring and leaving all of the. "Buquet, for god's sakes man, what is going on up there?"

"Please, don't look at me, monsieur. As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post." came a voice from above, a harsh taunting voice. "Please, monsieur, there's no one there! Or if there is, well then, it must be a ghost!"

"Signora, these things do happen!" short, plump Andre said. Christine shook her head. He was obviously inexperienced when it came to dealing with prima donnas like Carlotta.

"For da past three years dese tings do 'appen, and did you stopa them from 'appening? No! And you two!" She smirked, turning to Firmin and Andre, "You are as bad as 'e is! 'Dese tings do 'appen.' Mmmm, no! Until you stoppa dese tings from 'appening, dis ting does not 'appen! Ubaldo, Andiamo, bring my doggy and my boxy!"

"Amateurs!" Piangi scoffed.

"Now you see, bye-bye, I'm really leaving!" Carlotta cried as she waltzed off of the stage. Christine and Meg chuckled.

"Meg!" Another ballerina whispered, "Come here!" Christine threw a glance over her shoulder before going following her friend. They giggled over Carlotta's exit, their skirts floating as they imitated her dramatic exit. "Now you see!" Betsy cried, flouncing away like she owned the place. The other ballerinas giggled their amusement, and Christine laughed along, feeling eyes on her the entire time. She shivered under the gaze, and immeresed herself even more in the conversation. But the bone-chilling feeling didn't go away, and it was not until she heard her name that she was able to shake it.

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir." Catherine said offhandedly, casually moving towards Christine.

"What, a chorus girl? Don't be silly!" Andre remarked, sending a condescending look her way. Christine lowered her eyes, rejection imminent.

"She's been taking lessons from a great teacher."
"Who?"

"I don't know his name, monsieur," Christine put in quietly, sending a warning look to Madame Giry.

"She has been well-taught."

"Alright then, just... just..."

"From the beginning of the aria please, mademoiselle," Reyer sighed. She gulped, but Madame Giry pushed her to the front of the stage and began to sing.

"Think of me, think of me fondly..." she sang, lightly, her voice floating to the very ceiling of the Opera Populaire, where Erik sat, entranced by the voice of his young charge. Too bad she was so young, and his heart belonged to Madame Giry. She would be a perfect bride - but, no, she must never marry and throw away her chances. He knew the talent she had in her, the talent passed from father to daughter. She had her father's music, and her mother's beauty. She had the passion of her benefactress, the curiosity of her best friend, and a temper all her own. Yes, she was perfect. Now as long as that brat Carlotta would stay out of her way.