Promises

A Phantom of the Opera story

By Don Juan's Red Death

Chapter one

- - - -

Raoul burst into the apartment of Madame Valèrious in an alarming and somewhat shocking state of mind. Banging open the door without the courtesy to knock and looking around the small sitting room like a madman. Eyes turning this way and that, head flying in every which direction, turning in angles that to you and I may seem quite painful. The good nurse who, at this time had been half finished bathing her ailing mistress did what any sensible person might do in this situation; ran to the young man and covered his eyes with a quick slap. She then called for the other nurse who brought with her a rather large bath towel and draped it over the elderly woman's body like a blanket.

Once it was safe to do so, the nurse removed her hand from Raoul's eyes, while the second chattered angrily at him for his lack of manners, called him a 'cheeky fellow' and slapped his face. Madame Valèrious however thought this all in great fun and was enjoying a good laugh while her dressing aid helped her into a fluffy bathrobe; a salmon shade of pink and tied her belt. When she stood up, and obtained her polished oak cane form the holder on her left, and caught her balance she moved across the room. Upon a well-calculated misplacement of her right foot she stumbled and Raoul caught her shoulders to steady her against his chest.

She caught his arms and pulled him to her laughing gaily as she kissed both his cheeks while her maids were standing behind her each one a different expression plastered on her face. One was even tapping her forehead with her forefinger, as if to convey that she thought the woman had finally lost all sense and gone quite mad. The next was shaking her head in fond disapproval as if to show that this was nothing but typical of her mistress while the third was gawking in profound disbelief: as though the concept of her lady welcoming this man after so rude an entrance was just simply too much for her to handle.

Meanwhile: the young man was cradling her like a child as he laid her back on the bed. She touched his face, coughed a few times and then let her head rest on the cushions. "Madame . . . " came his voice after some minutes of silence, the old woman gave a sleepy moan that resembled 'hmm?' and fought to keep her eyes open.

At first, Raoul was so piteous of the poor lady that he had to find his voice in order to say what was on his mind.

When she had perked up enough to listen, he swallowed hard and closed his eyes taking a deep breath. "Madame, I have come to ask of the whereabouts of Christine." He said and the old woman laughed gently patting his hand as if it were flour for the morning bread, and told him in a fond and almost dreamy tone of voice that of course he would be looking for her, because he was in love with her and that's what two people who are in love do. They look for each other.

Raoul remained throughout her soft lecturing on the matters of romance and young love, his handsome blue eyes swiveling in every which direction as to avoid the eyes of the speaker. When she had finished; she was on the edge of dozing and had a reflective glint in her brown eyes, now half open and glazed with sleepiness. He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently, causing her weary features to brighten once more and asked him what he wanted.

Again the young man repeated his earlier statement and once again the poor woman resumed her repetitive and somewhat irritating stories of love with her late husband. Raoul listened with an air of impatience, beginning to feel that this whole thing was all quite pointless. "In one summer we . . . "

At this point he could bare it no longer and burst out, "Madame's I worry for Christine." The young lord said rather too pointedly for the third time since his arrival. The madame however chuckled lightly and told he that she was with her good genius. When Raoul asked of her as to if she knew who this genius might be she smiled and told him that he already knew. At first he was puzzled and it took him quite a few moments before he could discern what she meant. He sighed rubbing his face with the palm of his hand. This was going to take a while him just knew it.

Listening until he could bear to no longer he soon became as numb and muddle-headed as a careless child who was in the middle of one of his or her parents boring incompressible speeches. He had half a mind to just get up and leave, but not wanting to be rude he simply sat there in her foyer and gave an occasional nod or half-hearted chuckle meant to appease the old woman in her talkative mood. She seemed to be happy with this and kept up her talking until her eyes drooped with sleepiness and he did not have the heart nor the will to wake her.

He left the apartment feeling very weary, his head throbbed and he was dizzy from the aftereffects of the several shots of brandy and liquor that he had drained before his visit. Deciding he needed a breath of fresh air he went to the park sat down on a bench and closed his eyes. Where could she have gone? Why did she fly from his arms and more importantly why did he care? She was mocking him; mocking him with her false promises of love and affections which he was quite sure now that she did not feel. He rose to his feet, this had to end. He would not allow it to go on any longer, no more would he allow the feelings that his heart betrayed for him guide his actions; to this he pledged a solemn vow.

Raoul got slowly to his feet as though the task was too great a one for him to undertake. He passed his hand over his eyes and massaged there as he wiped away the bitter tears that had fallen while he had been lost in his worrisome thoughts and walked up the path. Glancing about him he saw and heard many pleasant things, such as the children laughing merrily as they chased each other around the trails, or the cooing of a dove as he or she washed them in a nearby fountain. These things however pleasant they might have been did nothing to lift his sorry spirits in fact they only served to make him sadder.

He knew the reason for this was simple enough, for when a bitter man is around people whose lives are better than his he becomes envious. So, the only solution was to wait and hope that his life turned for the better sooner or later. Right now however he just did not see that happening nor any time in the near future. He just kept walking up the path, giving false smiles and hearted waves to the children who happened by. When one little girl who did not look a day older than for years came and offered him a light pink daisy he accepted it with a slightly truer smile and kissed the little girl on the cheek. She giggled and blushed before running back to her parents laughing as she told her sister what happened.

'If only I could make Christine blush like that.'Though he with a sigh as he made his way to the coach where to his surprise the coachman Jerrold was not sitting. Rather he was standing a few feet away from the door which, he usually would have held open and had an expression of the uttermost confusion and was looking positively dumbfounded. Now normally Raoul would have found this expression to be delightfully amusing and would have enjoyed a very good laugh had it been on the face of someone else. Jerrold however was sensitive and sober-minded, the practical sort of fellow that might be considered dry at parties or festivals.

Knowing this to be true, Raoul made his way to him quickly and when he inquired as to what the problem might be he was handed a letter. It was addressed to M. Raoul le Vicomte de Changy; written in red ink and done so in a very untidy childlike scrawl. Raoul stared at it in confusion for several moments before opening it for it did not contain a return address, nor did he recognize the handwriting as anyone he had or would ever correspond with. Still and may god curse him for it, he had a curious mind and was anxious to find out who was writing to him; he opened the letter. He immediately regretted it for what he saw broke his heart. The letter read:

Monsieur de Changy:

If you value your life you will keep away from Mademoiselle Daae, for she is not intended for your heart and is my fiancé as of now. Keep away from my intended, or the consequences may be severe. I would hate to have anyone hurt or ridiculed due to your notions and it is the fondest wish of mile Daae as well as myself that nothing goes amiss under the roof of my theater. She also wishes for me to tell you that she gives you the best of luck on your pending polar expedition and any other ventures in your future. - O.G.

Raoul felt his heart breaking and he felt his legs giving way underneath him so that he was on his knees. Jerrold rushed to his master's aid and with a large amount of effort pulled him to his feet and guiding him on shaking feet towards the chariot where he gently shoved him inside. The young man was dead weight and stiff not hearing the vehicle as the driver made the horses begin their agonizingly slow trot towards the home of the de Changy family. He simply sat there his mind numb, his eyes aching with the force of his withheld tears. He looked at the letter again and squeezed his eyes shut crumpling it in his fist before for the first time he could remember crying himself to sleep.

- - - -

He was jarred awake by a sudden jolt in the road as the coach came to a stop in front of his estate. Jerrold opened the door and pulled him out of the buggy to the pathway. Sighing as he once again became lost in his sorrows he did not notice where he was going and tripped over his own shoe as he took a misstep. He fell forward blindly groping at the air to find some sort of object to steady himself with but instead came into contact with a pair of strong hands. His brother held him up and then lead him to the sofa where he laid him down. He groaned and coughed while his brother clicked his tongue at the state his brother was in.

"You have a fever..." said Philippe upon checking his temperature.

"Christine..." groaned Raoul as he laid a hand on his face.

"What about her?" asked his brother.

"Sh-she is betrothed... to another man..." he cried beginning to sob. When Philippe heard this he hugged his little brother and said how sorry he was. He knew how much his brother loved Christine and it angered him that she should give her heart to someone else without at least giving Raoul the courtesy of a note. When he at last calmed Raoul down enough so that he fell asleep. He noticed the crumpled paper in Raoul's fist and gently pried it from his fingers. He read it and threw it in the fireplace before setting to the task of writing a letter.

It read:

Mile Daae:

Raoul has just informed me of your pending wedding and although I wish to offer my congratulations, I must tell you that this report has put him in quite an alarming state of health. He requests an audience with you in three days time at our estate so that he may offer you his congratulations in person at our estate.

Yours,

Philippe

Christine's post came and when she received the letter she decided that she could not wait three days and made his visit only a few moments after. When she arrived she found Raoul standing in the courtyard his back turned to her. When she touched him he did not turn but merely said, "how could you do it?"

"Do what?" she asked softly.

"Give your heart to someone else." he said stiffly.

"But I have not... Erik wrote that to frighten me and make you leave."

"Oho so his name is Erik!" he snapped. "Tell me, what made you fall for him."

"Dear it is a tragedy... oh my love such a tragedy." said she coming to stand before him

Her sentiments angered him so much that he shouted, "You my dear Christine are a lair in every possible sense. For there is no force on this earth or the next that should convince me that you have or ever did feel for me the things of which you claim. No, lovely Christine, your actions speak for themselves and no amount of false candidness can save you now. You do not love me, your only object was to torment me with listless seductions and masquerades of pitiful childishness! I cannot believe you would do such a thing to me, no not only to me. No, no, you have driven me mad! When I think that I had only one object in life: to give my name to an opera wench!" He continued to rave,"I shall die of shame!"

And with that he burst into tears as She allowed him to insult her saying, "You will beg my pardon, one day, for all those ugly words, Raoul, and when you do I shall forgive you!"

She paled with shock "Raoul Martin Jacques de Changy ...How can you claim to love me when you speak to me in such a way?"

He risked one more sarcasm: "Oh and please, you must let me come and applaud you from time to time!"

"I shall never sing again, Raoul!... "She spoke in such a despairing voice that the lad began to feel remorse for his cruelty. "I came to tell you, dear, but I can't tell you now...you would not believe me! You have lost faith in me, Raoul; it is finished! Oh Dear, it is a tragedy!"

Raoul now saw her face and could not restrain an exclamation of surprise and terror. The fresh complexion of former days was gone. A mortal pallor covered those features, which he had known so charming and so gentle, and sorrow had furrowed them with pitiless lines and traced dark and unspeakably sad shadows under her eyes.

"My dearest! My dearest!" he moaned, holding out his arms. "You promised to forgive me..."

"Perhaps! Some day, perhaps! But for now just kiss me..." she said and he did.

When they broke apart they repeated their actions and a dark shadow passed over them. A voice said, "So you drop Erik's ring do you well woe to you..." as a skeletal hand picked up the golden band and disappeared into the morning.

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