Le comte... désireux de savoir à quoi s’en tenir, avait demandé un rendez-vous à Christine Daaé. (Ch. VIII: ‘Où MM Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter “Faust...’)
“You did what?”
“Sit down, Raoul.” Philippe-Georges-Marie de Chagny raised an eyebrow as his young brother continued to loom over him furiously, but permitted himself no other sign of emotion. “If you wish to persuade me that you are capable of holding a rational conversation on the subject — sit down.”
Into that last word he set the flick of whipcrack authority that had quelled a fatherless twelve-year-old, and the young man subsided into the well-stuffed chair on the other side of the library fire. He glared back at his brother with the expression of one who finds himself at a disadvantage but is not quite certain how he got there.
Philippe crossed one immaculately-shod leg over the other and leaned back in his own chair with a familiar creak of leather. The sound brought back to mind countless lectures from their father when he himself had been a skirt-chasing sixteen, and Raoul not born or thought of...
The boy was nearly twenty-one, for all he looked barely old enough to shave. If he was not prepared to take the necessary measures where this girl was concerned, then Philippe would simply have to do it for him.
He let fall the quelling hand he had raised, and Raoul burst into speech.
“You proposed what to Miss Daaé?”
His hot tone indicated that he refused to believe it, and the Count surveyed his brother from under weary lids, his head thrown back.
“I assure you that after some hours of discussion she was prepared to take a most... realistic view. A young person of some sense, as well as untried talent; I make no doubt she will be an ornament to our stage for years to come. And when this little affair burns its way out there will be no lack of protectors willing to take her off your hands—”
“Take that back!” His brother had leapt up with something like a sob, too-bright eyes blazing. Philippe’s own reflexes had him on his feet unthinking: he caught Raoul’s wrists and held them as the boy fought against his grasp. “Take that back — it’s a lie!”
“Enough!” From anyone else it would have been deadly insult; Philippe bit back the urge to strike his young brother across the face. But Raoul was already flushed and mumbling apologies in the humiliating knowledge that he had gone too far.
“So.” Philippe crossed his arms and surveyed him, letting the lesson sink in. “The little Daaé — unlike you, Viscount — does not enjoy a status in life that permits of being... quixotic. Once I had made our position quite clear, she was prepared to accept my terms. In the end. And I assure you my stipulations were more than generous on your behalf.”
“What—”
Raoul’s eyes sought out his own with a look half-horror and — if the Count was not mistaken — half-yearning despite himself. He swallowed and tried again. “What exactly did you say you’d offered her— us?”
“First of all I offered to pay her off, of course.” Philippe shrugged. “She gave me to understand there were no circumstances under which she would accept such money.”
In truth, he had not credited the little Swedish singer with such a command of the vernacular. La Carlotta’s fabled origins at the Café Jacquin could not have supplied a more expressive retort as to his ancestry and all his intentions. The Count bit at his moustache, suppressing a smile at the recollection.
“Then we proceeded to more fruitful conversation. We discussed your career, the Chagny traditions, the need for polish, the views of Society... in short, your future, Raoul. And her undoubted affection on your behalf, coupled with my representations upon the subject, led us at length to an agreement. She would relinquish any pretensions to your hand — and I would set her up in a discreet establishment in your name, as such things are generally understood at the Opera, where the two of you would be entirely at liberty to pursue your mutual attraction to its natural end.” He corrected the all-too-apt slip hastily, with an inward smile. “That is, its natural, ah, consummation. “
His brother was still looking stunned. Philippe made no doubt that the young man’s imagination, where the prospect of the little Daaé was concerned, was not quite as innocent as he would have preferred the Count to believe. He was a Chagny, after all.
“You— And she—” Raoul was gaping like a fish. “She — agreed?”
“The Valerius woman will give the customary appearance of propriety,” Philippe said smoothly, watching the hot colour mount in the boy’s face with a certain degree of compunction; but at that age, presumably, one was not in danger of apoplexy. And really it was possible to be entirely too pure for one’s own good. If Raoul had only followed the example of his classmates in setting up a mistress years ago, none of this deplorable affair would have happened.
“The establishment is a small town-house on the Right Bank in the rue de Valmy — unassuming but, I flatter myself, well-appointed. I have taken the first quarter’s rent out of your allotment from our father’s estate, but you will of course have to decide how long you wish to maintain the household and in what degree of style.” He smoothed his moustache with a reminiscent sigh, remembering emeralds tumbling on creamy shoulders. “You see, I have to warn you, brother, that once these little ladies from the Opera learn their way to a man’s purse, life can become astonishingly expensive...”
“How dare you!” Raoul’s furious exclamation was all but incomprehensible.
He had aimed a wild blow at his brother’s face, only to be left reeling by the astonished Count’s side-step: Philippe caught the young man in a merciless grip and bore him downwards.
“Don’t be a complete fool.” It was said between gritted teeth as Raoul struggled. “If it’s fisticuffs you want, boy, I’ve twice your weight and twice your experience — and I’m not quite in my dotage yet...”
Forced back into the chair, Raoul yielded abruptly, staring up at his brother with a blind, uncomprehending gaze. But Philippe did not think it was the threat that had quelled him.
“And she’s there? Now?” The hurt in the boy’s eyes would have bruised a heart of stone.
“I gave her my word not to tell you until after her arrival this morning,” Philippe said quietly, pressing his brother’s hand in sympathy. He glanced up at their mother’s ornate clock on the mantelpiece. “And at this very moment, I fancy, she’s hosting an intimate gathering to christen the new salon — a few performers from the Opera House, a few of our own acquaintances...”
He had insisted, despite the girl’s reluctance. She would have to learn to play hostess if the connection was to do Raoul credit; and the little Daaé’s reputation for virtue was all too tenacious. It was as well to make sure word spread that she had chosen a protector now.
“As for what comes next — well, we had that talk years ago, and I’ll spare your blushes.” He guffawed and freed his hand to clap Raoul on the shoulder, remembering his own first escapades. “But I’ve done what I can; you’ve been hot for the girl for months, and she’s agreed to make a man out of you. If you don’t take advantage of the situation, then you’re more the fool than any Chagny has a right to be.”
If he knew Raoul, the boy would be round there within the hour demanding explanations of the poor child: but one way or the other — and in his view, it was high time for ‘the other’ — there was nothing like a wish gratified to bring an end to an infatuation.
The Count turned on his heel, reaching into a waistcoat pocket. “By the by, I fancy you’ll want this. Catch—”
He tossed the key in his hand towards Raoul, who caught it on instinct.
“Side-door key — unless you want to make a scene in front of the servants, that is. A man should always have a side-door key to his own house...”
And shrugging his coat back to its customary perfection of set across the shoulders and adjusting the angle of the tie-pin at his throat, Philippe de Chagny left the library with the ghost of a tune on his lips. Just at this moment he felt a decided inclination for the company of the exquisite Sorelli.
| Contents | Continue |
