Phantom Thoughts pt. 34

The long-awaited return!

WE'RE BACK! Finally. Sorry for the long wait, but things have been busy and not great lately.

{"Christine! Christine! Something tells me that we are wrong to wait till to-morrow evening and that we ought to fly at once."

"I tell you that, if he does not hear me sing tomorrow, it will cause him infinite pain."

"It is difficult not to cause him pain and yet to escape from him for good."}

I can't believe I'm saying this but.. good point, Raoul. It would definitely hurt Erik more if he knew that Christine was *planning* to leave him and deliberately sang for him one last time than it would if she just vanished, which he could blame on Raoul convincing her to leave on a whim or something because no way would she just leave him by himself ON PURPOSE. No way it could be a planned, premeditated thing. It MUST have been the vicomte!

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Phantom Thoughts pt. 35

We're on a roll!

{"Before answering that," said Raoul, at last, speaking very slowly, "I should like to know with what feeling he inspires you, since you do not hate him."

"With horror!" she said. "That is the terrible thing about it. He fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think of Erik at my feet, in the house on the lake, underground. He accuses himself, he curses himself, he implores my forgiveness! ... He confesses his cheat. He loves me! He lays at my feet an immense and tragic love... He has carried me off for love! ... He has imprisoned me with him, underground, for love! ... But he respects me: he crawls, he moans, he weeps! ... And, when I stood up, Raoul, and told him that I could only despise him if he did not, then and there, give me my liberty ... he offered it ... he offered to show me the mysterious road ... Only ... only he rose too ... and I was made to remember that, though he was not an angel, nor a ghost, nor a genius, he remained the voice ... for he sang. And I listened ... and stayed! ... That night, we did not exchange another word. He sang me to sleep.}

Ohhh I feel for you, Christine. It's HARD to articulate complicated feelings about people, especially about people who hurt you. How can I hate him? He's so pathetic. I reduce him to tears! To self-deprecation! To emotional declarations and prostrating himself before me for forgiveness! What terrible villain would do that? He respects me, even to the point of groveling as if I was a queen! And yet he ensnares me and holds me captive with his voice!

{"When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp standing on the marble top of an old Louis-Philippe chest of drawers. I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from my room led to a very comfortable bath-room. On returning to the bedroom, I saw on the chest of drawers a note, in red ink, which said, 'My dear Christine, you need have no concern as to your fate. You have no better nor more respectful friend in the world than myself. You are alone, at present, in this home which is yours. I am going out shopping to fetch you all the things that you can need.' I felt sure that I had fallen into the hands of a madman. I ran round my little apartment, looking for a way of escape which I could not find. I upbraided myself for my absurd superstition, which had caused me to fall into the trap. I felt inclined to laugh and to cry at the same time.}

Erik likes writing in red ink A LOT. (And yet I almost wonder if it's ink and not... ketchup.) Also, if she has no better or more respectful friend than you, Erik, I'm concerned at the state of her social life.

(I'm just trying to picture Erik in full mask getup shopping at a modern grocery store. Highly amusing. I strongly recommend it.)

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