Opera basements, Don Juan-afterparty.
The bullet sang - what's her business?
What's the end of the song?
"Gardemarins, go ahead."
"Oh. how much my head hurts," was Diego's first thought. - I was still alive jumping off that damn roof? Where to now? I'm sure I'm being chased? He got up on his feet and looked around the room. What the hell was that? Where is it? Some kind of stone bag... Have you already packed up in prison? What am I holding in my hand? More precisely... I'm holding someone's hand. Beautiful, frightened, judging by her clothes, peasant, but too white.
- And where is Ortencia? - He asked in a whisper.
- I don't know," said the brown-eyed woman, who kept staring. - I'm Aminta... I mean, Christine.
"He really had his head on, he couldn't even remember my name, could he save himself? - Christina was gleeful... and then some uncomfortable feeling slipped into her soul. Before she jumped, she took off the mask from her "angel", betrayed her teacher, everything like that, in short, is a very bad situation. But now a stranger in a mask full of strangers was standing next to her and looking around, albeit slightly moved out, and in her hand was also a hat. "Who hit his head, him or me? - Christina thought and did what she used to do when she was losing the course of events: once again, she rid the visavis of the mask on her face. The fact that the first time she was pushed and yelled at, and the second time the floor fell under her feet in general, somehow did not keep Mademoiselle Daaaee from the third attempt. The stranger shuddered but reacted quite normally...
- Oh, si, women... Curious...
The girl herself reacted abnormally: she squealed in a corner, staring at her companion in horror - a quite cute young man, tanned, exactly no appearance defects not having. Only eyes were like phantoms, blue-green with gold sparks, but too much fun!
- Do I have a spider on my shoulder, senorita?
- You... you... You're not a Ghost!
- — О? Yeah. Am I flesh and blood, or did you really think I was Zorro's spirit?
- How... Go... by... of the eye? - Christina hiccuped.
A stranger in black put his hand to his chest and bowed.
- Diego, señorita. Ohhhh... head... Tell me, are we in jail?
- Not yet. We are in the basement of the Opera House. But judging by the number of soldiers in the hall, someone will soon be in prison.
- And you're talking about it so calmly? Come on, Señorita Aminta-Christina, I still have to find Ortencia. Do you know the way out? We need a private place, quiet and without witnesses, where we can talk. And a horse, we need a horse!
Yeah. Escape with a strange man, even if he's cute? But this is not a Ghost and the soldiers with guns...
- There is one place. Witnesses are quiet," Christina said with determination. - Let's go.
Her companion didn't stay in the stables long. "A nag, a nag, a nag, a nag... With the saints resting... Here, it will do. The dancing on the spot prize nightmare of the rider did not inspire Christine to trust. But Diego sat down on this mad horror, as if there and was born, easily threw the girl behind his back, she just remembered her mother, frowned and clung to the hands of a ghost. The ballerina's legs were strong enough not to throw too much away.
- To the right... - occasionally opening one eye, Christina squeaked. - To the left. At the crossroads, it was straightforward. And now there are three more kilometers to the cemetery.
- Why to the cemetery, I ride normally, - a little offended Diego.
- Because it's just soaaaaaaaaaaaa for us there.
Sitting on the stairs near the crypt, Christina stared at the man in black with curiosity. Find ten differences. On the eighth difference, the object sighed and began with a question.
- Where am I? Except that in the cemetery. Where were we before that? And who do you think I am all the time?
- You're in Paris, we were at the Paris Opera, and I take you for a Ghost... This... Opera...
While Cristina was giving extensive explanations, the practitioner and realist Diego barely managed to separate the grains of common sense from the rest of the storylines. Well, a certain gentleman with intelligence and possibilities keeps in fear the theater, does not mind to usurp the control completely, does not abhor murders - we have already passed it. He also wishes for the sole and unconditional power over a beautiful girl - there are no questions at all (but at least with the background of the teachings of singing or whatever, okay). The girl has a heart friend, Mr. Ghost is taking revenge, and further on - as it is familiar, as it is familiar. The cutie acts as bait - there are just two times two, in any reality, as bait to use, for example, a scary drinking man, would not be. And then the whole damn thing started. No, but where is South America and where is France? And why Spanish and French became suddenly understandable and replaceable. And the main thing is, who did all this?! You don't throw it at the Ghost anymore, he disappeared.
Sitting on the stairs, Diego wrapped his head around his splitting fingers and tried to think for a while, despite the feeling.
- Does it hurt? - Kristina pitifully asked him and stroked his hair.
- Tolerably," he grinned.
The knocking of the hooves on the frozen ground and the scream of the viscount made both of them tremble.
- Get your hands off me, you masked creature, from Mademoiselle Daaaé! Haven't you had enough once? It's a bunch of nonsense, pray. Christine, and don't think about interfering, I'm really tired, I'll kill you.
Raúl de Chania was used to grabbing the sword - and after a couple of movements, he lost it strangely, without even noticing how.
- It's not the Phantom of the Opera," the Viscount said in the affirmative, raising both hands.
- I tried to tell you, but you... Meet Raul, this is Diego, he's in some way in trouble. Diego, this is Raúl de Chania, we are engaged. Boys, stop fighting, we need a plan. Who has what ideas?
Everyone was silent for a minute.
- I would eat," Diego said in a dreamy way.
- I would have sighed de Chania, too.
Fight and eat, romance!
- We'll sit in a family way," she said, "and she's sarcastically circling the vault's perspective with her hand, "or what?
Half the evening, Christina sulked, but in a good Parisian restaurant with two charming young people was not so sad, even, frankly - great. In the middle of dinner, Carlotta came to the stage - at the entrance - and amused the audience even more, because she refused to let go. Carlotta looked, as usual, bright and heartbreaking, behaved naturally, that is, scandalous.
- Pigs are not allowed in! - The maitre d' raised his voice.
- I applaud you standing up, monsieur! - Raúl de Chania exclaimed with admiration and put his hands in the air.
A black hog in a brocade vest rushed to the center of the hall from under Carlotta's hem and quickly climbed up to the chair. The restaurant lay as if it were an army near Borodino.
- Walking with a c-o-poo that looks like your husband, this is so s-self-critical, - Christina begged. - Let's call Carlotta here, or she'll be kicked out, and I didn't look at her. Come on, let's go.
Following the results of the third change of dishes and drinks, Carlotta, having axed finally, split and gave everything about the sorcerer, Ubaldo and the spell of exchange.
- And what is it Zorro, I never tasted.
- The spirit of black li-sa," Diego raised his finger.
- Puj-di, I know about furs. Ah! Tippo to fox, only in Mexican?
- I think so," Diego agreed.
- And what does it look like?
- Like me," the Spaniard said.
- Nothing like that... There's a lot on them-muffin, but m-manto p-poluchizzzo...
Then there were dances. The heels of the heels on the table still looked pretty good, but the ditties filled with the operatic voice of the ditty changed Borodino to Waterloo, that is, nobody stood up from the observers in the hall.
The company fell out of the restaurant at dawn, agreeing to sleep and urgently go look for someone to do good.
to be continued ....