We passed through the tables at an incredibly speed, twice almost tipping people's jars full of cheap wine. There was no sign of the Viscount or his brother. I noticed my hair was still held by that ridiculous net that kept it out of the way while dancing. I took it off and tore in pieces, my hair felt heavy on my back.
Marcelle was naturally well known in the Tavern and she was perfectly aware of how to behave, so no client would dare disrespecting her, but only admire her in mute desire. I was glad that this was not the kind of immediate feedback I received for my dancing, those eager malicious eyes scrutinizing me.
But this night I learned exactly what Marcelle knew how to avoid. If walking around the Opera in dancing clothes looked silly and unrefined, the tight clothes stood out completely in that sort of establishment. But I couldn't worry about it now...
Finally we spotted the Count Phillippe coming back from the filthy bathroom area, walking dizzily to his table. I ran towards him, just as he had succeeded in making his way back to his chair without bumping on any of the bizarre figures that wandered around the bar.
"Excuse me, Monsieur?"
I leaned against the table, out of breath. He scanned me with such an expression of distaste that I wished once again I had changed my clothes, or better, that I had never been involved with this matter.
"Do I know you? " He asked coldly.
"Yes, you do." I said, sitting without an invitation on the opposite chair of his table. Marcelle stepped back offering us some privacy.
"I am Meg Giry, a ballerina from the Opera, and I'm looking for Raoul."
"Will you ordinary girls never leave him alone?" He asked, his tone bitter and resentful.
I took a deep breath and ignored his comment. "I have an urgent matter to take up with him. Could you please tell me where I can find him?"
"Ha! I wish I knew!" He took a long sip from his cup, and continued, "If you find him...tell him I'm looking for him as well!" And the resentful Count broke in a evil drunk laugh.
I just looked at him in surprise. Was everybody going mad after all? I must have looked so lost, or he must have been so drunk, that he finally confessed, ashamed of what he was saying, "He went back to the Opera. He says he has a meeting with a man called Erik, and nothing will stop him. Are you satisfied?"
"Very much, Monsieur."
Marcelle, who had overheard the end of the conversation, took me inside the nasty kitchen of the tavern, where a greasy smell intoxicated the air. Her mother stood there, and explained in an exaggerated tone, enjoying having something to break the tedious routine of her nights,
"The two fancy Chagny kids were there until a minute ago! I don't understand! I kept close watch, for Marcelle asked me too. But the younger one seemed way too anxious, he talked loudly, in a way these nobles usually don't. Then, all the sudden, he left. But if you run, you should be able to catch up with him. It was just a minute ago... "
"Here, take a sip of this, it will calm you down." She offered.
I took the transparent liquid from her, and let it down on my throat.
"No, not at once!" Marcelle tried to advice me, but it was too late. It was already burning down my throat, too late to spit it out.
"Well...that certainly will calm you down..." Marcelle mended, laughing. I felt my head spinning, some nausea rising inside, but told her, "It will take a whole lot more of that to put me to sleep."
"Take this cape, Meg. You will freeze if you go on with these clothes."
I took the garment gladly, and wrapped around myself.
"Now...let's think... What do you think he will do?" She asked, in sympathy.
"I don't know, Marcelle, I don't know, I told you that a hundred of times!"
"Jesus, you really drank too much of that. It is obvious, Meg, he is going to find a way of going after the ghost. Down to the cellars, isn't it where he lives?"
"You think so?"
"Go back to the Opera and find the Viscount. Stop him. If he doesn't go down, I don't think his brother will look for the police tonight. It seemed to me that the Count was just worried with the kid's safety."
"And how in this world am I going to stop him, may I ask? "
"Well..." She looked around, "That is for you to find out." She shrugged, and smiled encouraging.
As I mounted the unhappy horse, I still had the taste of the strong drink I had tried. Subtly, an idea started to take form in my mind...
Get your own Free Homepage