Bravo, bravo, bravissima. Christine, Christine. Christine. Where in the world have you been hiding? Really you were perfect. I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great Tudor? Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing I can sense him. And I know he's here. Here in this room he calls me softly. Somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me. He the unseen genius. Christine, you must have been dreaming. Stories like this can't come true. Christine, you're talking in riddles. And it's not like you. Angel of music, mightiest guardian. Angel of glory. Who is this angel? Angel of music, I no longer. Secret and strange angel. He's with me even now. Your hands are cold. Around me. Your face, Christine, it's white. It frightens me. Don't be frightened. I think we've made quite a discovery with Miss Daae. Perhaps we could present her to you, dear Vicomte. Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind. This is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied. But thank you. It would appear they've met before. Yes.