Chapter 1
Erik poled across the lake silently, deep in thought. Before long, the boat rubbed
against the dock and he leapt out nimbly. Much to his alarm, a lantern lit up at his side
and a familiar voice spoke.
"Erik, we meet at last!"
Recognising the voice to be his old friend, Nadir, he relaxed a bit, but still kept up
his guard.
"Ah, dear daroga, we meet at last," he echoed musically.
"I pray I find you in good health?" questioned the good Persian, daring to start a
conversation.
He scowled and replied, "Good health? What concern of yours is my health?"
Not caught off guard by this, Nadir continued.
"It's surely not healthy to be lingering in these cold cellars. Perhaps we should
take this conversation inside?"
"I think not," came the cold reply. "You've been snooping around in my Opera
House for a long time, daroga. For all I know, once you knew the entrance to my house,
you would run to the authorities."
"Did I not save your life? Why should I betray you in such a way? Nay, you've
known me for a long time," answered the daroga, a bit frightened at how Erik referred to
the Paris Opera House as his own.
"Why shouldn't you betray me, Nadir?" Erik whispered, looking searchingly at
the Persian.
Looking back into his golden cat eyes, Nadir assured him, "Because I'm your
friend. You can trust me."
Erik was taken aback by this. He, who had no friends, for he hardly dare to
presume his protege was his 'friend', had one now. He closed the hiatus he had created
and managed to spill out, "Perhaps you would like to come in for some tea?"
Nadir smiled and simply said, "Since you've invited, I sha'n't decline."
They climbed into the boat and Erik poled back to his house. Erik threw open his
front door with the words, "I shall return shortly. Stay here."
Making sure the Persian was seated comfortably on the divan, he quickly returned
the boat to the dock and skipped lightly across the hanging rope above the lake. Silently,
he opened his front door. He closed it, removed his hat, cloak, and gloves, and turned
around to find the daroga perched on a chair, sucking his thumb gingerly.
The Persian's eyes were wide and staring at Ayesha, who was hissing and
prowling around the chair. Erik took one look at this spectacle and chuckled.
"So you've met Ayesha, I see."
At the sound of her name, the cat sauntered over to Erik, and he picked her up,
stroking her coat lovingly.
"Still not fond of cats, daroga?"
To this, Nadir shook his head wildly.
"Pity. Such beautiful, graceful creatures," Erik crooned to the cat. "But I'm afraid,
my dear, we are going to have to part for a little while," he murmured, again in a musical,
entrancing voice, while shutting the cat in his room.
Turning to face the Persian, who had relaxed, he spoke.
"Shall I dress the wound?"
Nadir waved his hand and replied, unconvincingly, "No, it's nothing; a mere
scratch. She just gave me a fright, that's all."
Erik lifted an eyebrow under his mask, but only replied, "Tea, daroga?"
"Yes, please."
Erik returned with the tea shortly, and sat himself languidly on the arm chair.
"So, Nadir, how do you like my house?"
The Persian looked up, startled to know he was being watched, but reminded
himself he was with Erik, after all.
"Very nice. You'll never cease to amaze me, Erik."
"Don't flatter me, daroga. How have you been all these years?"
Nadir shifted uncomfortably on the divan and replied, "What with the small
pension I get from the Persian government . . . I get along. I have a small flat in which
Darius, my servant, accompanies me. But you, Erik? How did you become a fixture at the
Opera?" knowing full well the answer. He didn't snoop around the theatre for nothing,
after all.
Erik chuckled.
"You know daroga. I sha'n't waste my breath explaining. I know what you do at
the Opera. I know everything that goes on within my domain!"
The Persian continued carelessly.
"And Christine Daae and the viscount?"
Erik threw down his cup of tea so violently it shattered and leaked its contents
onto the floor.
"Christine Daae is none of your business. And that fop of a viscount can go to hell
for all I care!"
Nadir started to interrupt but he continued.
"Yes, I daresay we sha'n't be seeing too much more of him around here any
longer!"
The good daroga's eyes widened.
"Erik, what have you done with him?"
Erik ignored the Persian and produced a bunch of feathers from his pocket.
"Look, daroga," he exclaimed with childlike glee, and arranging them jauntily on
his head, "I'm le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny!"
With this, he promenaded around the room while bumping into a great many items
of furniture. He kept up a certain air about him that reminded Nadir so much of the dolt
he couldn't help but cry out in laughter.
Suddenly Christine came through the front door. Her face paled visibly and she
ejaculated, "Erik, what in the world are you doing?"
He stiffened, and the Persian tried to stifle his giggles. Erik stuttered for a moment
and finally managed to get some coherent words out.
"I, uh, was doing . . . absolutely nothing! Yes, I was doing absolutely nothing!"
Christine didn't look too satisfied and Erik cried out, "It was Nadir's idea in the
first place! He made me do it!"
Nadir was still trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing and mumbled, "I had
nothing to do with it, mademoiselle . . ."
Christine thought a moment.
"I asked because you looked awfully like Raoul. I thought for a moment you were
ill, or being possessed by some evil thing, but now I see you are fine."
She plucked the feathers from his head while Nadir started to cry with tears of
laughter. Erik's shoulders shook a bit, but he restrained himself. He became solemn.
"Good daroga, it was lovely having tea with you, but you've extended your
welcome. Good day. Call again sometime."
He pushed Nadir out of the door and ran to Christine.
"Now we're finally alone, my dear," he purred.
"What do you mean, Erik?" Christine asked innocently, twirling her hair about her
finger.
"Well . . ." he thought for a moment. What did he mean? "We can go for a stroll,"
he suggested.
She clapped her hands together and exclaimed, "Let's have one along the River
Seine!"
Erik gasped, "Don't be ridiculous, Christine! I don't go outside!"
"Why not?"
"Because 'they' are out there!"
" 'They'? Who are 'they'?"
"Incompetents! I know there are none in my cellars, unless the managers come
down here . . ."
She just nodded, and reflected that she would need to buy a dictionary if she was
going to be around Erik all the time and his large words.
Erik poled across the lake silently, deep in thought. Before long, the boat rubbed
against the dock and he leapt out nimbly. Much to his alarm, a lantern lit up at his side
and a familiar voice spoke.
"Erik, we meet at last!"
Recognising the voice to be his old friend, Nadir, he relaxed a bit, but still kept up
his guard.
"Ah, dear daroga, we meet at last," he echoed musically.
"I pray I find you in good health?" questioned the good Persian, daring to start a
conversation.
He scowled and replied, "Good health? What concern of yours is my health?"
Not caught off guard by this, Nadir continued.
"It's surely not healthy to be lingering in these cold cellars. Perhaps we should
take this conversation inside?"
"I think not," came the cold reply. "You've been snooping around in my Opera
House for a long time, daroga. For all I know, once you knew the entrance to my house,
you would run to the authorities."
"Did I not save your life? Why should I betray you in such a way? Nay, you've
known me for a long time," answered the daroga, a bit frightened at how Erik referred to
the Paris Opera House as his own.
"Why shouldn't you betray me, Nadir?" Erik whispered, looking searchingly at
the Persian.
Looking back into his golden cat eyes, Nadir assured him, "Because I'm your
friend. You can trust me."
Erik was taken aback by this. He, who had no friends, for he hardly dare to
presume his protege was his 'friend', had one now. He closed the hiatus he had created
and managed to spill out, "Perhaps you would like to come in for some tea?"
Nadir smiled and simply said, "Since you've invited, I sha'n't decline."
They climbed into the boat and Erik poled back to his house. Erik threw open his
front door with the words, "I shall return shortly. Stay here."
Making sure the Persian was seated comfortably on the divan, he quickly returned
the boat to the dock and skipped lightly across the hanging rope above the lake. Silently,
he opened his front door. He closed it, removed his hat, cloak, and gloves, and turned
around to find the daroga perched on a chair, sucking his thumb gingerly.
The Persian's eyes were wide and staring at Ayesha, who was hissing and
prowling around the chair. Erik took one look at this spectacle and chuckled.
"So you've met Ayesha, I see."
At the sound of her name, the cat sauntered over to Erik, and he picked her up,
stroking her coat lovingly.
"Still not fond of cats, daroga?"
To this, Nadir shook his head wildly.
"Pity. Such beautiful, graceful creatures," Erik crooned to the cat. "But I'm afraid,
my dear, we are going to have to part for a little while," he murmured, again in a musical,
entrancing voice, while shutting the cat in his room.
Turning to face the Persian, who had relaxed, he spoke.
"Shall I dress the wound?"
Nadir waved his hand and replied, unconvincingly, "No, it's nothing; a mere
scratch. She just gave me a fright, that's all."
Erik lifted an eyebrow under his mask, but only replied, "Tea, daroga?"
"Yes, please."
Erik returned with the tea shortly, and sat himself languidly on the arm chair.
"So, Nadir, how do you like my house?"
The Persian looked up, startled to know he was being watched, but reminded
himself he was with Erik, after all.
"Very nice. You'll never cease to amaze me, Erik."
"Don't flatter me, daroga. How have you been all these years?"
Nadir shifted uncomfortably on the divan and replied, "What with the small
pension I get from the Persian government . . . I get along. I have a small flat in which
Darius, my servant, accompanies me. But you, Erik? How did you become a fixture at the
Opera?" knowing full well the answer. He didn't snoop around the theatre for nothing,
after all.
Erik chuckled.
"You know daroga. I sha'n't waste my breath explaining. I know what you do at
the Opera. I know everything that goes on within my domain!"
The Persian continued carelessly.
"And Christine Daae and the viscount?"
Erik threw down his cup of tea so violently it shattered and leaked its contents
onto the floor.
"Christine Daae is none of your business. And that fop of a viscount can go to hell
for all I care!"
Nadir started to interrupt but he continued.
"Yes, I daresay we sha'n't be seeing too much more of him around here any
longer!"
The good daroga's eyes widened.
"Erik, what have you done with him?"
Erik ignored the Persian and produced a bunch of feathers from his pocket.
"Look, daroga," he exclaimed with childlike glee, and arranging them jauntily on
his head, "I'm le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny!"
With this, he promenaded around the room while bumping into a great many items
of furniture. He kept up a certain air about him that reminded Nadir so much of the dolt
he couldn't help but cry out in laughter.
Suddenly Christine came through the front door. Her face paled visibly and she
ejaculated, "Erik, what in the world are you doing?"
He stiffened, and the Persian tried to stifle his giggles. Erik stuttered for a moment
and finally managed to get some coherent words out.
"I, uh, was doing . . . absolutely nothing! Yes, I was doing absolutely nothing!"
Christine didn't look too satisfied and Erik cried out, "It was Nadir's idea in the
first place! He made me do it!"
Nadir was still trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing and mumbled, "I had
nothing to do with it, mademoiselle . . ."
Christine thought a moment.
"I asked because you looked awfully like Raoul. I thought for a moment you were
ill, or being possessed by some evil thing, but now I see you are fine."
She plucked the feathers from his head while Nadir started to cry with tears of
laughter. Erik's shoulders shook a bit, but he restrained himself. He became solemn.
"Good daroga, it was lovely having tea with you, but you've extended your
welcome. Good day. Call again sometime."
He pushed Nadir out of the door and ran to Christine.
"Now we're finally alone, my dear," he purred.
"What do you mean, Erik?" Christine asked innocently, twirling her hair about her
finger.
"Well . . ." he thought for a moment. What did he mean? "We can go for a stroll,"
he suggested.
She clapped her hands together and exclaimed, "Let's have one along the River
Seine!"
Erik gasped, "Don't be ridiculous, Christine! I don't go outside!"
"Why not?"
"Because 'they' are out there!"
" 'They'? Who are 'they'?"
"Incompetents! I know there are none in my cellars, unless the managers come
down here . . ."
She just nodded, and reflected that she would need to buy a dictionary if she was
going to be around Erik all the time and his large words.