The Masked Parisian

The Letter From Paris

The morning was fine in the Daaé house. Christine was curled up in a large leather armchair, overlooking the garden, reading a novel and Monsieur Daaé was reading through the daily post in his study.
"Christine! Christine!" He called out as he burst into the living room.
"What is it, Papa?" Christine asked, slightly worried about how tongue tied he appeared.
"Christine! I have received the most wonderful letter, from Paris!" The old man huffed out, in a rush. Christine couldn't possibly conceive what correspondence her father could have received from Paris.

"Sit, Papa. Tell me about this letter. Who is it from?" Monsieur Daaé nodded quickly and perched himself in the chair next to Christine.
"My dear, the letter is from Monsieur Giry." Christine looked at her father, thinking he might burst from excitement, with a puzzled look plastered onto her face.
"Who, Papa?" Monsieur Daaé looked at his daughter in a mix of disgust and shock.
"Monsieur Erik Giry, Christine. The man who has written the operas that everyone loves so much!" Christine now understood why her father was so excited about his letter. Erik Giry was the upcoming new opera writer in Paris and he was renowned for being difficult to communicate with.

Christine's response must have not satisfied her father, as he stomped off in a huff. Christine ran after him, wanting to ask him more about this elusive letter.
"Papa, please wait. Is this the invisible man that everyone speaks of?" She called after her father. He stopped and turned to face her.
"Why yes, of course, Christine. The man who wrote so many of the songs that I have taught you." Christine remembered a small selection of the songs that this man had written. She enjoyed the melodies, yet the words fell a little flat for her tastes.
"But Papa, why would Monsieur Giry be writing to you?" She asked her father, both confused and excited. He motioned for Christine to enter the study.

Monsieur Daaé sat his daughter down in the wooden chair in front of the desk he often sat at and pointed down to his music.
"For this, Christine. Monsieur Giry is visiting the area and has agreed, after my constant requests, to come and listen to some of my music." Christine watched as her father's eyes gleamed with hope and excitement. She turned to smile up at him and then looked backed down to the sheets of scores.
"Papa, this is wonderful. One of the best composers in Paris, coming to view your work! I am sure he will be astounded." Christine assured her father, wanting to boost his confidence.
"I wouldn't quite say that, child." He chuckled, looking down at his daughter. "Go now, I must prepare." He patted her hair before she sashayed back down the hall.

Erik hoped that paying a quick visit to this Daaé man would stop the never-ending train of letters coming through his letter box. How the man had even learnt of his address, he did not know. All that he knew was that he needed the letters to stop. And if that meant one short visit to Domfront, then so be it.

The visit to the Daaé residence was not his only motivation to go to Domfront. Daroga had been badgering him for months to come and visit his home and it so happened that he lived very near to Domfront. Two birds with one stone, then back to my sweet solitude, Erik thought to himself. He had been given the opportunity to live above ground in a lovely Parisian home once his opera debuted. Daroga had insisted that people would think nothing of the mask and that he could live happily amongst others. It was not that he couldn't live above land, he knew he could. It was rather that he did not want to. The people of Paris that he had seen at the opera and on his late night walks did nothing to recommend themselves. He would be very happy to have the visit over and be back with his music and his opera house.

Preparations were well underway for the Parisian to arrive. Christine was not swept up in it all. She thought it very unnecessary to make the house immaculate for a man who was coming to hear rather than see.
"It is so I can have pride in my home, Christine." Her father preached to her.
"Will you have me painted like a peacock and posed like a china doll then, Papa?" She retorted, laughing at the spectacle of her painted like an opera singer and poised in a chair, never to move again.
"Not exactly, dear child. But I would like it if, when he does arrive, that you are more aware of your looks than usual." Her father pleaded. Christine looked down at herself and pouted, feeling slightly offended by her father's comments. She thought herself not as pretty as the women in Paris, but she did not think herself unhandsome.

In her low spirits, Christine decided to visit her dear friend, Meg.
"My mother has seen him." Meg whispered to Christine in the living room of her auntie's house.
"I daresay he will be a man of fashion and pride. Thinking himself better than the townspeople." Christine whispered in reply.
"I fear you might be right, Christine. Mother knows Monsieur Erik very well and she says he can be very cold and unfeeling." Christine pondered on what Meg had said about their visitor. If he was so cold and unfeeling, Christine did not want to imagine what his negative reaction to her father's music would do to him. If he had not been so excited, Christine might have entertained the idea of talking him out of it.

Meg and Christine sat and spoke about Monsieur Giry's visit for a long while before Meg changed the topic.
"How are you Christine, with everything? Has the aching of your heart subsided at all?" Meg asked. She was referring to the recent marriage of Raoul de Chagny. Christine and Raoul had been sweethearts and she almost believed that he loved her. However, with the interference of his parents, Raoul was married to a young and wealthy woman. A woman more suited to the prestigious Chagny name. Christine laid a hand on her friend's arm and sighed.
"What hurts the most Meg, is that I liked him so much due to his good nature and his piety to his parents and that, in the end is what made me lose him." Christine chuckled, hiding her pain.
"I am sure, Christine, that he was not the great love of your life. I believe that special man is yet to come." She winked at Christine and they both laughed, both hoping that the future prospects were bright.