Philippe grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Sit, dear brother. It is not fitting for a Chagny to make a fool of himself over a singer or dancer, even one as beautiful and gifted as she. And see, the others have caught her. She is not about to crumple to the floor in front of an entire opera house without someone else noticing." Indeed, several of the dancers had rushed to her side and caught her as she began to sag. Her face did look pale. Philippe turned and considered Raoul thoughtfully. "You appear quite taken with her."

"I've never met a more lovely, endearing woman. It was an unforgettable summer, and I spent a great deal of time with them. You were too busy with your own affairs to notice. I met her father, a great violinist, who would play for us… and she would sing. Only passably then, but with great promise. She sings more beautifully now than she ever has. Before Monsieur Daaé died, he would tell us wonderful stories about the Angel of Music and Little Lotte… tales from Sweden, where they were from. He never came to love it here in France, and often told us stories from their homeland, for which he was strongly homesick." Raoul seemed lost in his memories, a fact that greatly annoyed Philippe, who preferred to live for the moment.

Philippe stood. "Then I would imagine you must hasten to congratulate Miss Daaé on her lovely performance. She will be delighted to renew your acquaintance, whilst I make my way to the dancers' lounge, where La Sorelli is waiting to renew mine." A smile played about his lips. This could be quite interesting, Philippe thought.

When at last she came offstage, Christine was surrounded by the girls of the ballet corps, of which she had been a member until just this afternoon. Even if her new role was only temporary, the entire day had been like a dream. The girls squealed and clapped and bore her like a hero in their midst back to her dressing room, for what she had accomplished was in the heart of every one of them as well.