Silken Couch and Hay-Filled Barn (1986)

[Carlotta Celestia Giudicelli]

It was seven o'clock in the evening when the curtain on the stage of the Opera populaire rose for the start of it's newest prmier -- an original composition written by O.G. himself called Don Juan Triumphant. The house was filled, all waiting with baited breath to see this new production, staring the young soprano Christine Daaé, who had made her singing debt on that same stage only seven or so months before.

The performers waited in the wings to all come out at their given cues. The stage was dark when the orchestra started playing that dissonant theme following the whole tone scale, full of augmented chord after augmented chord progressing over and over. It most certainly was not the typical style which the audience was used to listening to. When the usic began to play, all of the performers rushed out to their places.

Carlotta was one of them. The plus-sized Italian beauty held a deep crimson apple in each hand, seething with jealousy beneath her seductively charming smirk. This opening -- this "prologue" of sorts -- was her only appearance in the entire plot. She deserved more! Even if it was only some poorly written obvious flop, she was the one with more training, more experience, and more talent! It was as simple as that.

"Here the sire may serve the dame.
Here the Master takes his meat.
Here the sacrificial lamb
Utters one dispairing bleat."

The chorus began to sing as she tossed the apples to waiting members on stage. The first toss was flawless, the second, that clumbsy oaf on the receiving end didn't catch the thing... he was probably trying to make the situation look even more embarrassing than it already was with her having such a small role. Pfft! The nerve... No matter though. She wasn't about to let some fools incompetance throw her off and cause her to miss her entrence.

"Poor young maiden!
For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets
You will have to pay the bill
Tangled in the winding sheets."

The chorus sang again:

"Serve the meal and serve the maid"

And the diva echoed:

"Serve the meal and serve the maid"

And the chorus continued:

"Serve the master so that..."

"...when
tables, plans and maids are laid,
Don Juan triumphs once again!"

The chorus and the diva scattered, making way for two men entering the stage: the primo uomo Signore Ubaldo Piangi in the role of Don Juan, and the baritone playing the role of Passarino, the Don's confidant.

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

Raoul clenched his fists as he climbed the stairs to the managers’ box, right behind Firman and Andre. The plan was set in motion. He had a sniper in the orchestra pit ready to fire up into Box Five should the Phantom make an appearance. There were guards everywhere, both visible with rifles and hidden in plainclothes in the audience with pistols. He was confident in their abilities—despite the young sniper’s misfire that had nearly given Firman a heart attack and had only served to make him even more irritated. The doors to the Populaire had been locked. The Phantom couldn’t get in or out. Christine was perfectly safe.

But he worried. He was on edge. He should have had no reason to fear but he did fear. Ever since he suggested the plan he had tried to soothe Christine’s fears, promising her that he would not allow the Phantom to take her again. This—he was certain—was the only way he could save her from him. He needed to kill him. The incident in the graveyard had just proven that they could not escape from him by running away. He would simply follow and haunt them until they were dead. If he succeeded, then he and Christine could be wed in peace and free to begin their life together.

If he failed—no. He would not fail. He had surely outwitted the man this time, despite his taunting remarks. He would shoot him himself if he had to, but he would not let him torment his fiancée any longer. It all ended tonight. As Andre had said, the tide had turned in his favor. They had given the Phantom what he wanted—Christine was playing the lead in the opera he had written. Since he was obsessed with her, he was certain to attend. He would insist on sitting in his box. Once he arrived in the box, Raoul would give the order to the sniper to shoot. Even if the Phantom had been wise and wasn’t in the box, he would order the men to shoot him once he was spotted—and he had spotters all over the theater. There was no escape.

As the curtain rose, Raoul nodded at the guards in his box as well as the two managers as he sat down, smoothing down his gold-hued waistcoat. He leaned over and placed his hand on the railing, staring down at the performance and making occasional glances around the theater—particularly at box five. He hadn’t shown. Perhaps he was somewhere else in the audience. The man picked up his opera glasses and gave the area a quick scan to no avail. Frowning, he placed the glasses back on the arm of his chair and continued watching the performance.

He drummed his fingers lightly on the railing, the only sign of his anxiety. So far there was nothing to report. Everything was going smoothly.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik was ecstatic...they were performing his opera tonight! Don Juan Triumphant...and it was Erik who would be triumphant at long last! His music was being played and Christine would be singing the female lead, Aminta. Erik had a plan in mind to finally have his Christine. It was a brilliant plan, if he did say so himself.

Erik was hidden backstage and near the curtained alcove that Ubaldo Piangi, singing the male lead of Don Juan, would enter soon. Meg as a gypsy dancer was also on stage. Erik was filled with excitement as his plan began to unfold.

Don Juan began to sing to his servant Passasrino:
Passsarino, Faithful friend,
once again recite the plan.

Passarino answered:
Your young guest believes I'm you -
I, the master, you, the man.

Don Juan replied:
When you met you wore my cloak,
with my scarf you hid your face.
She believes she dines with me,
in her master's borrowed place!
Furtively, we'll scoff and quaff,
stealing what, in truth is mine.
When it's late and modesty
starts to mellow, with the wine...

Erik smiled. He had written a bit of confusion of the characters into the words of the songs. And, quite a bit of inuendo. No one would understand...

Passarino sang:
You come h ome! I use your voice -
slam the door like crack of doom!

Don Juan replied:
I shall say: "come -hide with me!
Where, oh, where? Of course - my room!"

Passarino added:
Poor thing hassn't got a chance!

Don Juan sang:
Here's my hat, my cloak and sword.
Conquest is assured,
if I do not forget myself and laugh...

Erik watched carefully as Don Juan put on Passarino's hooded cloak and entered the curtained alcove. At the perfect moment, Erik threw the Punjab lasso over Piangi's neck and pulled it tight, breaking the man's neck and killing him instantly. He pulled Passarino's black cloak off of the body and left it swinging slightly on the noose. He dooned the cloak himself. Christine could be heard singing just off stage and as she entered. Erik smiled. Things were going exactly as he had planned.

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine stood backstage in her pink calf-length dress with the black lace trim and little rose posies and a matching pair of black lace-up boots. It was her costume for the role of Aminta in the Phantom's new opera, Don Juan Triumphant – the role she had been dreading to sing. She had insisted to Raoul, the managers, and everyone else that she would not and could not sing it, duty or not! Truth be told, she was afraid to; afraid that the Phantom might take her again, this time forever.

Raoul has reassured her several times that everything would be fine, and that he would not allow for the Angel of Music to carry her off yet again. She really wished that he hadn't made her sing though. She knew for a fact that he would not be fooled so easily and that He would take her. Raoul had posted guards everywhere, around the stage, in the pit, the house, the boxes.... If there was any signs of the Phantom, they would shoot.

Shoot.... That was the other thing which troubled the young woman so deeply. Despite all of the horrible occurrences, she did largely owe this Opera Ghost – her Angel of Music – her success in her career. There was no doubt in her mind that without him, she would not be where she was today, and that is was also quite possible that Raoul would never have recognized her that evening at the gala.

Christine inhaled deeply as she reflected upon all of these things in her mind. There was no backing out now; it was far too late for such thing! She had to go on.....

Finally, she head Signore Piangi laughing, and then a calm. That was her cue...

Putting on a painted smile and pleasant air (stage face was ever important!), she skipped out onto the stage like a little school girl might skip through a field of daisies, ad began to sing:

“No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy;
No dreams within her heart but dreams of love.”

She leaned on the prop banquet table and but on a charming expression, playing the coquettish nature of Aminta's character and looking out at the audience with a sort of dreamy, far-off gaze. She could see a few of the guards and could see Raoul in his box, and that reassured her some.

Everything is going to be all right, Christine. You just have to keep telling yourself that...

[Erik Lenoir]

When Christine entered the stage and Erik heard her perfect voice singing the words he had written, he was touched to the very core of his being. She was a wonderful actress and singer, coached of course by Erik, and tonight singing his words....and singing for him! Erik's joy was overwhelming. And soon, in just a moment, Erik would be able to sing with his beautiful Angel of Music...he put his hand on his heart, for it was bursting with love.

Onstage, Passarino sang:
Master?

Behind the curtain, Erik, as Don Juan, sang:
Passarino - Go away!
For the trap is set and waits for its prey...

Passarino left the stage, and Erik, as Don Juan disgused as Passarino, would enter as soon as Christine, as Aminta would enter and take off her cloak. He waited excitedly.

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

((MISTY PAGEBOY SIT! XDD))

Christine pushed off of the table and gave a little pivot turn, dropping the shawl which she had been holding around her shoulders and allowing it to flutter freely to the ground. There was still no sign of anyone sitting in box five. It was very odd though. The opera had already begun, and surely he would not miss the premier of his own work – especially not when she was singing the lead, despite how much she had insisted she did not want to.

After the shawl had fallen, she pranced over to the bench beside the table and flung a leg over the bench as she reached for a bright red apple from the basket of fruit sitting there. After grabbing the apple, she sat straddling it a while before she flung her leg back over and settled onto the seat, legs parted an feet swinging a bit. Anyone who had seen the production of Il Muto the year before might have mistaken her behavior for that of the pageboy, but that was how it was written in the script...

She ruffled her dress a bit before rubbing the apple along her thigh, polishing it, and then bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply, rolling it around in her pals like a cat toying with a ball of yarn.

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

There was no movement in Box Five. He put down his opera glasses and turned to one of the men in his box. “Have a detachment of your men—four or five, no more than five—comb the theater for him. He has to be hiding here somewhere.” he ordered in a low tone. He heard the “Yes, sir” and returned to watching the performance, suddenly uneasy. He knew about his plan…the question was, what would the Phantom do?

He kept his eyes fixed on the stage, trying to calm his nerves. He smiled as Christine began singing, her voice doing wonders to ease his anxiety. Perhaps there wouldn’t be a problem, after all? Part of him was disappointed that the Phantom didn’t decide to make an appearance. After all, the whole point of his plan was to ensure that the man was caught and executed for his crimes. Of course that made him judge, jury, and executioner—but this had gone on long enough. If he had to enforce the law because the authorities wouldn’t, so be it. From this moment on, as far as he was concerned, he was the law. And the law was not mocked. This Phantom would meet his end at his hand, he swore it.

The Vicomte leaned over a bit, watching Christine intently and paying no attention to Piangi as he entered from backstage. He didn’t even notice him, to be honest. How could he? As he watched her sit down, a lot of words came to mind but one of those words was certainly not ‘ladylike.’ He was a bit surprised but not at all off-put. In fact he may have even found it attractive—Focus, de Chagny, focus… He tore his eyes away and took another look around the theater, watching as the detachment he had sent in search of the Phantom spread out.

However he didn’t watch for long as she was making it extremely difficult. His eyes wandered back to her, transfixed as she ran the apple down her leg and turned it over in her hands again and again. For a moment he wondered what it would be like if he was that apple, and almost wished he was…

He blinked, his face reddening slightly as he tried to look away. He had just never seen her like this before, that was all. He straightened his tie, suddenly feeling feverish and began straightening his waistcoat uncomfortably. Just how long had he been staring?

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik watched as Christine, as Aminta, entered and sat on the bench, flinging her leg over it. In Passarino's robe, with the cowl over his face, Erik entered. He approached Christine slowly, singing, as Don Juan:

You have come here
in pursuit of
you deepest urge,
in pursuit of
that wish,
which till now
has been silent,
silent...

Erik walked behind the table filled with prop food and drink and picked up a large golden wine goblet.

I have brought you,
that our passions
may fuse and merge -
in your mind
you've already
succumed to me.
dropped all defences,
completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me:
no second thoughts,
you've decided,
decided...

Here Erik plucked the apple from Christine and handed the golden goblet to her. He was very close to her. He didn't think that she had seen through his ruse. It made him even more confident that he would fool everyone watching. No one, even Christine would even know that he was not Piangi.

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine sat there with her apple, gazing out at the audience as she continued to turn the thing over and over in her hands, rubbing it along her thigh, her waist, her collar... Would he come at all? Perhaps she had been wrong in thinking that there was anything to worry about this entire time. No, no... It was still early. She glanced up briefly at the boxes and saw her fiancé sitting and watching the performance and relaxed slightly. She still did not think this to be a good idea, but it was a little reassuring to at least see him there. Now all that she had to do was to pray that the Phantom would not show that evening, albeit she knew he was certain to despite what she wanted. The true question was when would he show... and where?

Her thoughts were cut short and almost vanished completely when she heard Don Juan begin to sing. His voice was oddly entrancing, and she found herself to be almost lost in listening to it. It was a rather odd thing; the music had never had that sort of effect on her in rehearsals. In fact, no kind of music had ever had that sort of effect on her at all since... No! It couldn't be. It was just her imagination playing tricks on her. He'll always be there singing songs in my head... dismissing this as a mere hallucination, Christine continued to listen, entranced by the sound and completely unaware of the situation there onstage.

As Don Juan sang, she raised the apple toward her lips as if to take a bite, but was halted when Don Juan suddenly plucked the fruit from her hands and replaced it with a golden goblet. She turned it a little, fingering the detailing along the sides, waiting for Don Juan to continue with his part.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik continued to sing the words he'd written which perfectly described how he felt about the relationship between Christine and himself .. it was meant to be biographical....it was far too late now to turn back...she would be his soon...his alone. He was wooing her again with his music...his voice would pull her away from the life she had known before and into his life...there was no stopping it now...

Past the point
of no return -
no backward glances:
the games we've played
till now are at
an end...

Standing close enough to touch, Erik drew his hand across Christine's chin without touching her. He continued to sing.

Past all thought
of "if" or "when" -
no use resisting:
abandon thought
and let the dream
descend...

Erik was elated. His dream would soon come true. And no one knew what he was doing...everyone in the audience and Christine herself, thought that it was simply Piangi the actor playing the part of Don Juan. Erik had fooled them all...

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine glanced away from Don Juan as he sang. All she need do was play the necessary role and, if Raoul's plan were to work, there would be no more Phantom tormenting them. When she turned her head, she caught a brief glimpse of the armed marksman in the manager's box and couldn't help btu to feel a sinking guilt in the pit of her stomach. This man had given her so very much... and now this was what she gave him in return? Betrayal? But did se really have a choice in the matter?

Don Juan drew his hand across her chin, though without touching her, and Christine followed his hand to face him. Something about his voice.... about him made her feel oddly more comfortable. She followed his hand as he sang, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

She then raised the golden goblet to her rosy lips, imagining a sweet, almost nectar-like wine. With that voice that flowed like honey to her ears, it was not at all difficult. She lowered the prop to rest in front of her breast and inhaled deeply, imagining the invisible beverage's sweet and indulgent aroma, before she wiped her arm and her hand across her lips, letting it sort of hover in the air beside her when it came to a rest. Despite the fact that she knew there was no real wine she had consumed, she was beginning to almost feel drunk off of it.

She turned her head sharply to Don Juan, raising the goblet before she took a few firm back steps, dancing a little as she moved. She turned back toward Don Juan and spun away from him toward the table, this time pausing behind it and setting the goblet down before spinning out until she reached the opposite side and then turning to him with an exhilarated smile as she completed rotations and continued listening to him sing.

[Erik Lenoir]

As Christine danced away from him and she settled on the bench, turning and smiling at him, Erik followed her, finally standing behind her where she sat on the bench which was in front of the table filled with the sumptuous looking feast.

What raging fire
shall flood the soul?
What rich desire
unlocks its door?
What sweet seduction
lies before us...?

Erik took his hand and placed it over Christine's and began moving her hand over herself in a seductive gesture. He was truly thinking that Christine must fall for him tonight if she hadn't before. The time was right, he felt it in his heart...how could she resist him? De Chagny was nothing compared to Erik... Erik's confidence was at an all time high.

Erik went on, now running his hands in front of her face and down her arm, then sitting next to her, but with his legs behind the bench, his back to the audience, in a love seat position.

Past the point
of no return,
the final threshold -
what warm,
unspoken secrets
will we learn?
beyond the point
of no return...

At the end of the phrase, Erik suddenly turned from her and sat on the edge of the bench, bent over a bit.

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine strode around the table, placing the goblet down amongst the feast, and then settled herself down on the bench again, smoothing her skirt out as she did so. She rolled her head and her shoulders around, inhaling slowly as if savoring the sound of each word as Don Juan sang to her. She felt him move behind her and a sort of overly fond smile spread across her lips as she slowly reached her right hand up behind her ear, tossing a few stray strands of curly hair. It seemed she was nearly drunk off of the sound of the music.

She slowly brought her hand down along her body and felt Don Juan's hand travel to rest on top of hers. She was practically limp as she felt him move her hands rather seductively along her body. Her body moved with his, as if she were a puppet with invisible strings and he were her puppet master.

She felt his hands continue and tilted her head back into a relaxed position of the neck as she felt him along her neck, her face, her arm... Oh, it was all quite sensuous and – while she knew it was only acting – she was enjoying every second of it. She rolled her neck 'round, her eyes closing a moment and her jaw dropping so that her mouth was slightly agape as a soft sigh escaped her, inaudible to all but perhaps Don Juan.

He continued singing and moving her hands along her body with his own and she continued her state of enraptured bliss until their hands traveled somewhere she had not expected them to and, in an instant, she immediately tensed up and fled from his grasp, swiftly moving to the opposite side of the stage and turning back to look at him with an almost bewildered air. Something was different that night. Something strange was going on... but little did Christine know exactly what that something was...

Her eyes burning with the question of what was going on, she began to sing the next verse:

You have brought me
To that moment where words run dry,

She turned away from him again, striding a few more steps away, a somewhat contemplative expression in her eyes. She looked off, as if into the distance as she sang. She straightened up her body a bit, putting on a pleasant expression, as if to try to hide how startled she had been for a mere second. She wondered to herself if anyone had noticed her faltering.

To that moment where speech disappears into silence...
Silence...

As she continued, she swiftly stepped backwards, coming toward Don Juan once again, looking over her shoulder as she did so. A new determination had come about her – a determination to figure out what this was. She wondered if this could have been previously planned by someone. But why?...

Briskly, she did a rather sharp turn round about and faced Don Joan full front before continuing to sing, now looking directly at him.

I have come here,
Hardly knowing the reason why.
In my mind, I've already imagined
Our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent...

She took a few slow, yet purposeful steps toward him, her eyes never faltering from keeping their gazed fixed upon the cloaked figure seated at the bench. Slowly, she brought her hands up and placed them gently above her head, closing her eyes and then bringing her hands down in a slow and seductive manner before interlacing her fingers together in a sort of suggestive and slow moving entwinement, reopening her eyes and gazing upon him in a sort of dark and mysterious fashion.

And now I am here with you,
No second thoughts.
I've decided...
Decided...

She took her left hand and slowly brushed it across her breastbone before using it to move a few ringlets of hair back behind her shoulder. She leaned over the table, clearing it off a bit, all the while keeping her gaze set upon Don Juan. She slowly tossed a black cloth napkin out of the way and stretched herself along the table a moment longer before turning, keeping her eyes locked upon him from over her shoulder, and then leaning back against the table, sitting upon the edge ever so slightly. As she lowered herself onto the table, she turned her head away from him, looking out toward stage right again, a coy smirk paying upon her lips as she set there pondering a moment before she would continue with her verse of the song.

[Erik Lenoir]

As Erik had touched Christine's hand and moved it slowly in front of her and up her arm and neck, he knew of course that the words that both of them sang were only the words he had earlier written but it seemed now as if Christine was not only acting them out, but believing them. He truly felt she would be his bride before too much more time had passed.

But then she ran from him suddenly at the end of the phrase. He felt a tension in her hands and she pulled away a bit too suddenly. The thought crossed his mind fleetingly...could she possibly know he was not Signor Piangi? Hopefully, it was only his imagination.

Earlier believing that Christine was surely his, this bit of doubt crept into his mind at that sudden tenseness in her hands and through Passarino's black hood, through which he could see, he had caught a glimpse of a strange look on Christine's face. Another clue that perhaps she knew...but he put it out of his mind. How could she know? She had probably been surprised only by the touch of his cold hands on her neck...wasn't that it?

As he took his place at the end of the bench, turning from her, his head in a slightly bent position, nothing could be seen of him save for his hands. He hadn't realized that he was moving them as she sang, in a strange revelation of his heart's feelings for Christine.

Then she returned and the opera went as he had written it. As she came back to where he sat on the bench in front of the feast, Erik's back was toward her, so he did not see her approach but only heard her voice and felt her when she came closer. He raised his almost trembling hands toward her, yearningly ready to feel the touch of her hands on his as the opera progressed.

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Inhaling deeply though her nose, Christine began to sing the refrain of the duet.

“Past the Point of no return.
No going back now.
Our passion play has now at last begin.
Past all thought of right or wrong.
One final question:
How long should we two wait before we’re one?[/i]”

She remained turned away from him, singing outward toward the audience for the first portion of this, and then slowly glanced over toward Don Juan, a flirtatious smile playing at her lips. Finally, she turned her body, inching along the table toward him, and then placed a hand on his shoulder, swiftly bringing her knee up to rest on top of the bench. She brought her hands up and slowly and gracefully let then fall down to her sides before swiftly seizing his own hands in hers and continuing on with her potion of the duet.

She outstretched her left arm, still keeping hold of his hand in hers, and then pulled it back in toward them with a controlled and fluid movement, then did the same with the right.

“When will the blood begin to race?
The sleeping bud burst into bloom?
When will the flames at last consume us?”

She trust both arms outward once more, closing her eyes and trusting herself into the role, and then brought them back in, wrapping them around Don Juan almost as if an embrace, and resting her cheek on his own under the hood of the cloak. It was when their cheeks touched, however, that she felt something extremely wrong that startled her, quite understandable, more than anything else could have in that very moment.

Underneath the hood of the cloak, where there should have been the soft and flabby flesh of Signor Piangi’s cheek, there was instead something cold and hard and rigid coving the side of the man’s face. Could it be…? Oh no!... Christine’s eyes widened in a sudden realization, instantly snapping out of whatever trance his voice might have thrown her into. It was him…

The moment that she fully came to this realization, Christine got up, bolting in an attempt to flee the stage. He was there, and everything she’d feared was coming true. Would he try to take her? She felt a sickening feeling in her stomach. As much as she dreaded the idea of him being ‘taken care of,’ she played that Raoul’s plan would work so she would not be lost to the old above forever.