When the chandelier fell, many people were injured, and one was killed: the woman hired to replace Madame Giry. After that horrible night, Madame Giry was rehired, Carlotta fell ill, and Christine disappeared.
Almost two weeks passed, and Christine was not seen at the opera or anywhere else in Paris. Raoul, still recovering from his broken heart, was deeply worried. He wrote to her at Mama Valerius' apartment, where she lived, but received no reply.
"I'll go to the opera house and talk to the managers," Raoul said to himself. "They're sure to know where she is."
When Raoul arrived at their office that afternoon, he found the managers looking as if they hadn't slept since the chandelier fell. They were pale, worried, and not especially happy to see Raoul.
"I'm wondering if you could tell me where Christine is," Raoul said politely.
"She's taking a holiday," Moncharmin said.
"Well, when will she be back?"
"No idea," Richard said without looking up from his desk.
"Christine requested a leave of absence for health reasons," Moncharmin said.
"Oh no, she's ill!" Raoul cried. "What's the matter with her?"
"We don't know," Richard said.
"Is it her voice? Did you send the opera's physician to see her?"
"No, she didn't ask for him, and we trust her to know when she needs a doctor." Moncharmin began walking Raoul toward the door.
"But—"
"Good day, monsieur." Moncharmin closed the office door in Raoul's face.
Raoul stood at the door for a minute, thinking. Christine did not want to see him, as she'd made clear in her note, but Mama Valerius might talk to him. From what Raoul had seen at the seaside and in Christine's dressing room, he believed Christine was the victim of some unscrupulous person. But who?
At Mama Valerius' apartment, a maid answered the door and showed Raoul into a small drawing room. Returning a few minutes later, she said, "Madame apologizes that she must see you in her bedroom because she can no longer walk."
The maid ushered Raoul into Mama Valerius' bedroom.
"Ah, Monsieur de Chagny, it's been many years since we were together in Perros-Guirec!" Mama Valerius extended both her hands to Raoul, who gazed into her kind face. "I'm an old widow now, but heaven has sent you, so that we can talk of Christine."
"Yes!" Raoul said eagerly. "Where is Christine? No one has seen her for almost two weeks."
"She sent me a note that she's with her Angel of Music," the old woman replied.
Raoul dropped into a chair. "Really? Her Angel of Music?"
Mama Valerius smiled at him and put a finger to her lips. "You mustn't tell anyone. I'm very fond of you, and so is Christine."
"What makes you think she's fond of me?"
"She used to speak of you every day and . . ." Mama Valerius leaned forward as if telling Raoul a secret. "She told me that in Perros-Guirec you said you couldn't live without her. Oh, silly boy!" Mama Valerius laughed heartily.
Raoul sprang from his chair, blushing with embarrassment.
"Where are you going?" Mama Valerius asked. "Sit down again at once. I'm sorry I laughed—did you think she was free to marry?"
"Are you saying Christine is engaged to someone else?" Raoul asked, his voice choking with emotion.
"No, you know as well as I do that Christine can't marry even if she wants to."
"I don't know anything about this at all! And why can't Christine marry?"
"Because of the Angel of Music, of course!"
"Does he forbid her to marry?" Raoul asked.
"He has told her that if she marries, he will go away forever, and she will never hear him again. So, you understand, she can't let that happen for the sake of her career."
"Of course," Raoul said, pretending to agree with her.
"I thought Christine explained all this to you in Perros-Guirec, when she was there with the Angel of Music. He promised to meet her at her father's grave and play some music for her."
"Oh, he met her, did he?" Raoul was growing angrier by the minute. He was going to have to confront the Angel of Music. "Madame, please tell me where this angel lives."
Mama Valerius raised her eyes and said, "Why in heaven, of course. That’s where all angels live."
Raoul didn't know exactly who this Angel of Music was but recognized the type of person. "He's some handsome tenor, who's taking advantage of Christine!" Raoul thought. "He's learned enough about her to know she'd be susceptible to anything that involved her father and the supernatural."
Raoul was filled with despair. "How long has Christine known this fellow?"
Mama Valerius thought for a moment. "I'd say it's been three months since he started giving her lessons. He used to come down from heaven and teach her early in the morning in her dressing room. But now that she has gone away with him, I don't know where her lessons are. I don’t think he’s taken her to heaven."
In great distress, Raoul bid farewell to Mama Valerius and walked to his brother's house. Philippe was waiting for him, and Raoul fell into his arms like a child. The count consoled him without asking for any explanations. How could Raoul even begin to explain the Angel of Music anyway?
"Let's go out to dinner," Philippe said. "I have a strange story to tell you. Last night Christine was seen behind the racetrack grandstand in the park on the western edge of Paris."
"What? What was she doing in such a lonely place at night?"
"Riding in a carriage with the window down, apparently taking in the night air. She was with a man, a shadowy figure . . ."
Raoul groaned. "Yes, let's have dinner. I need to forget about Christine."
But at the restaurant, Christine was all Raoul thought about. By ten o'clock, he was in a horse-drawn cab, heading for the road behind the racetrack in the park.
"Wait for me nearby," Raoul said to the driver when they arrived. "I may be awhile."
Bright moonlight illuminated the deserted road. It was bitterly cold, and Raoul stamped his feet to keep warm. He'd been waiting for half an hour when a carriage turned the corner. As it slowly approached, he saw a woman leaning out the window.
"Christine!" he called.
Suddenly she was pulled back, the window was closed, and the carriage dashed past Raoul.
"Christine!" he called again as the carriage vanished into the night.