I paced the rich carpet in my stockings and the lace nightgown Raoul had found for me, the hem of which dragged on the floor, rustling against the dark floorboards.
It was past midnight, and I still had not slept, not even after the hot bath and a tonic with laudanum. I wanted desperately to be with Raoul, in bed with him, but the servants would see that and gossip... and it wasn't right before marriage, even if nothing occurred...
But I couldn't bear being alone. Not for my last night with him.
I treaded lightly down the hallway, from the fine guest room I was staying in. There were a few windows casting a dull glow on the crimson carpet, but past that, pure darkness.
In a sudden flash of panic, I darted to Raoul's door and didn't even bother knocking. It was unlocked, and after coming inside his room, I shut the door quietly behind myself and went up to his bed.
Why was everything so magnificent in his home? His furnishing were rich and ornate, everything that could be golden was, all antiques, fine, decorous. The bed swallowed him up in decadent patterns and plush pillows.
"Raoul?" I whispered.
He gave a start, panting, then passed a hand over his forehead.
"Did you have a nightmare?" I asked.
"Yes..." he replied, then in concern, "Did you?"
"No, I can't sleep... The laudanum did me no good."
"I'm sorry..."
"May I sleep-?"
"Here? Of course," he said, relieved, "extenuating circumstances and all, no one would care about it, after everything."
He shifted over, but it made little difference; the bed was enormous. I slipped under the covers, and, after a moment of hesitation, wrapped myself about him. He kissed my forehead.
"You're perfectly safe now," he whispered.
"And you," I replied tiredly. "I'm so sorry that I-"
"You were perfect, kind and brave, and intelligent, all at once. Don't apologize for what happened, you did the best you could, far better than I would have... We're together now, that's what matters. Safe together."
I nuzzled into him. "I love you... I love you, Raoul, my darling Raoul."
"I love you, too. More than I can say."
I shifted a bit in his arms to find a comfortable position, so he pulled me to his chest and wrapped an arm about me.
"Is that better?" He asked, his voice a little nervous.
I nodded, my eyes already growing heavy.
Christine, I love you...
My eyes snapped open. Sunlight bled through the curtains of his five windows, signaling that it was morning.
I attempted to slide off the bed without waking Raoul, but he stretched out his arms and yawned, so I fell back onto the bed. Feeling rather playful, as love had that affect on me often, I slid over top of him.
"Good morning," I said happily.
"Good morning, my love," he replied, reaching up to cup my cheek.
"I never want to leave here..."
"Well, you'll live here soon."
"No," I said, hesitating. Then I smiled, "This bed, I mean."
"Don't you want breakfast?"
"I wish we could have it in here..." I whispered, melancholy.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"I need to go home."
"Isn't this your home?"
"I-I need to get my things, I mean."
"Oh, of course, sorry, I... Do you have money for a brougham?"
"No, nothing."
"I'll give you some after breakfast."
I nodded, then reached up and brought his lips down to mine. My memory of the other kiss made me pull away, but Raoul knew nothing of this, and had his arm about me. Then he quickly released me, and I hugged myself, unable to bring myself to look at him.
"Christine, my love?" He asked softly. "I'm sorry, I... I tried to forget, and... I assume you must be upset over that-"
"It's not your fault, Raoul, I'm sorry..."
A question formed on his lips. I knew he wanted to ask what the purpose of the other kiss had been, but had he asked, I would have not known what to say. The first kiss had been terrifying, as I thought he would shove me away and berate me. The second... the second was because of his eyes when I pulled away from the embrace. No one had ever given him anything like that before... So I gave him another, and that one... That one was tender and sweet, full of love from him and pity from me. And then he pushed me away, though I knew he didn't want to. I knew he didn't...
"Christine?" Raoul asked.
"Hm? Sorry, I was thinking," I replied, glancing down at my uneaten breakfast.
The morning had flown by with my thoughts.
"How long will it take you?" He asked. "To get your things?"
"Maybe an hour," I said softly, my stomach churning.
That was not a lie, but I would not be returning here. I was going to find my angel. The police had not caught him yesterday, but I knew he was hiding under the opera house... Where else could he be?
But what if I changed my mind, from fear, and he wouldn't let me leave a second time?
"Are you sure you want to go alone?" Raoul asked in concern.
"Yes, I'll be fine. It's only an hour... I think it would do me well to be alone for some time."
"Whatever you need."
He kissed my forehead and ran a hand over my cheek, which I held.
"I love you," he told me, full of trust.
"I love you, too," was my soft reply, my stomach twisting again with regret and confusion.
I had a note tucked into my bodice that I would leave for him in my apartment. He had to know why I couldn't stay. He had to know how much I loved him.
But I had to go back. I couldn't stay with him, not for the rest of my life, knowing that I could have done so much more. And surely Raoul would find another woman, one without her head in the clouds, one who would love him with her whole heart, and allow him his title and status.
So I went home, to my little two-room apartment with a single grimy window. I had not minded the conditions, not even realized how poor I was until I had seen where Raoul lived. In Sweden, my father and I had lived wherever we could find. And when he became famous, even then we lived in a cozy little apartment, until his death a few years later.
I had spent most of my small inheritance on his grave, then put the rest away. Now I was going to retrieve this- around two hundred francs- and find my angel.
After I had packed my little suitcase with a spare dress (a green one of mine, not the dark blue one Raoul had purchased) and a few other necessities, I hastened out the door. I cast a final glance upon the room, finding the creaky single bed, the black stove, and the one book I had left behind: a frivolous romance. I was bringing my Bible only, should I need direction.
After placing my note for Raoul where he would find it, and kissing it, I whispered a goodbye to the place, my hands beginning to tremble.
The journey to the opera house was miserable. I wanted so desperately to run back to Raoul, but I knew that had to be wrong. I was taking everything he knew away from him. I was terrible for loving him, how selfish I was! And now I would make it all right.
But... I didn't want to give myself fully to my angel. What if Raoul was right? Would he want simple companionship, as I hoped, or...? I knew he wanted more, but he could be content with my soul, without needing anything else... Couldn't he?
The brougham halted, and I accidentally dropped the coins onto the pavement before paying the driver. Then he rolled away, and I turned to face the front of the opera house.
I felt like it would swallow me up.
I hurried inside, trying not to allow myself time to think, to change my mind. There were a few policemen, but they were deep in conversation with a poor, distraught Carlotta, and I went unnoticed.
My dressing room was unlocked. I hastened through the mirror, and began my descent into the dark with a single candle for company. It was entirely vacant, not a rat to be seen, and certainly not a person.
What would I do when I found the lake? Call for him?
When I reached the bottom of the infinite stairs, I nearly tripped, crying out. My frightened voice echoed around me, and I heard a reply:
"Christine...?"
I spun around, backing up against the wall. I had to go back, I had to go back! I couldn't do this! I wasn't brave enough!
"Why are you here?" my angel inquired, his voice drifting in and out of my ears, but from where I knew not.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
"Have you come to torment me?" he asked tiredly. "Where is your husband?"
"I came back," I replied with a surprising amount of calmness.
Silence.
"Angel?" I whispered.
"Why would you do a foolish thing like that?"
I shivered. "What do you mean?"
"You want to see me?"
"Yes... I do... W-where are you?"
"In the walls..." he told me, pensive and resigned. "I had hoped to die of love and haunt this place as a true opera ghost, but of course, this will suffice for now... Follow my voice, if you wish." It began to drift forward at a leisurely pace. "This way, Christine, my angel. But tell me, as you follow, why are you here? Do you know?"
I shook my head, then realized he couldn't see me. "Not entirely."
He sighed, "I expected as much, if you were ever to return to bade me farewell... Stop, here."
He emerged from a dark spot in the wall, a shadow come to life. His entire face was covered by a black mask, and his clothes were the same hue, same as before.
"May I?" he asked, extending his hands to me.
I gave him mine, and he felt my ring finger, so I snatched my hands away.
"He hasn't given you one yet?" he said, confused. "Tell me he hasn't abandoned you, tell me-"
"He hasn't... I... I left."
"Left? Well, go back, then."
"But I..."
"Why did you leave him? Surely you're not-?" His eyes flickered, and his voice turned harsh. "Have you come to torment me? Is that why?"
He grabbed me and pulled me into the wall through the opening, which shut. I was breathing hard, terrified and trembling.
"No," I managed out. "N-no, I haven't come to torment you."
"Then why?" he asked miserably. "Why?"
"I came to... leave with you."
Silence.
"Leave with me?..." he said, his voice hushed with wonder. "What do you mean? You... you can't possibly... You will marry me?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"But?"
I bit my lip. "I'll give you companionship. I'll love you, but not-"
"Yes, that's reasonable," he told me softly. "Quite reasonable, I ought to have terrified you by now with... I'm hallucinating, aren't I?"
He grabbed my face and felt both sides, staring at me through the holes of his black mask. Then he released me.
"You're real," he whispered. "You're real, Christine, m-my... Mine, now, yes?"
I hesitated, but replied, "Yours."
"Mine... But why? You don't love me... Is this merely a show of pity from you?"
"No, I love you."
"As a friend, though, not a lover."
"More than a friend."
"More than a friend..." he whispered, filling with hope. "Come with me, we'll leave here, I need to plan." He began to take me through the tunnel. "We need to plan... I-I have a house ready, but not exactly, I had never truly thought- but then I had, of course- and you'll need dresses and things, and I'll have to withdraw all my money- although most of it's there, in a safe- oh, Christine, my Christine, promise you'll marry me. Promise!"
"I promise," I told him, quite faint with doubt.
"You won't leave..." he said softly, in awe, before continuing to ramble as we went through tunnels. "And the house, it's not beautiful or extravagant by any means, but it's enclosed on all sides by a forest, close to the Belgian border, absolutely lovely, and there's a lake, better than this, clear and filled with animals and such- do you like books? That's all that's in that house now, lots of books, and a piano, very out of tune, but I'll remedy that- your bedroom, I finished that already, it's small, but lovely, lovely, all in white and pale blue, with a big window overlooking the backyard- do you like raising animals? Gardening? There's a chicken coop and a little overgrown field back there-"
"What's your name?"
He paused. "My name?"
"Yes, if I'm to marry you, I should know your name."
"I named myself," he said softly, his pace slowing, "once I had forgotten my first... Erik."
"Erik... You forgot your first?"
His grip on my hand tightened. "Let's not discuss that, best not to... Here we are, I apologize for the mess, but I was hoping to die soon, so I hope you understand. It's all I could salvage from those wretched people, although they had a reason, I suppose..."
It was a small alcove, a hiding place, glowing with candles as the other. There was a desk in the corner covered in ink and paper, and even the floor below this was coated. Some were damp, probably from being rescued from the lake. His bed was a mass of blankets in the other corner, and on a plain mahogany table lay his violin beside its bow.
"I have some things to pack," he told me, hurrying around the room.
For a few minutes, he was frantically placing shirts and waistcoats (all of which had been in an organized pile), pants and socks, among others, into a case far larger than mine. Then suddenly, he ceased, relaxing as he sat on the floor.
His eyes met mine, through the holes in his mask, and they were glossy and pitiful.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"You're here," he croaked. "You're not going to leave..."
I placed myself beside him, offering my arms. It didn't seem like he knew what to do with them, so I pulled him gently to my chest.
"I'm not going to leave," I whispered as we both began to cry. "I won't leave you..."
"I'm a murderer..." was his soft reply.
"But you don't want to be, so we can go away and forget that. Let me forget that, forgive you... May I remove your mask?"
There was no reply, so I did so and continued to hold him against me. After a while of clutching and sobbing, I heard him murmur something.
"What is it?" I asked gently.
"You're so soft," he replied. "Oh, w-wait, don't let me cry, I need to..." He rose suddenly and glanced around, putting his hand on his deformity to conceal it. "Damn, where is-? Forgive me, I didn't mean to curse, I forgot- damn, where did I put it...?"
"The ring?"
"Yes, the ring... It's in my desk, that's where."
He retrieved it, and brought it to me, helplessly lost.
"A-are you going to go down on one knee?" I offered. "I promise not to say 'no' this time."
Was he trembling? Yes, certainly he was.
"Will you marry me, Christine?" he asked, staring up at me with fear in his eyes.
"Yes." I replied, smiling as I extended my hand to him. Then I retracted it. "That is, if you remove your hand from your face."
He did so, and I offered my hand anew. He slid the ring up my finger, the curious one with a black stone and silver setting, then bent down to kiss it after a moment of hesitation.
"I'm dreaming again," he whispered, clasping my hand delicately. "I'm dreaming..."
"I'm here. It's not a dream."
"But you are a dream, the most wonderful dream... Perhaps a nightmare... You didn't bring the wedding dress, did you?"
"I... I threw it away, for Raoul."
He sighed, "Yes, I expected so... I'm done packing, I think, I'll carry yours-"
"No, it's fine-"
"But don't men carry women's effects?"
"Yes, they do."
"I would quite like to carry yours and mine, if you understand me."
"I do. Thank you very much."
He bent down to pick mine up. I clutched my arm and glanced at the exit, then examined my ring as he closed his suitcase and clicked shut the clasps.
"There," he said happily, standing up fully. His face fell in seeing me doubting myself, and his gaze shifted to the wall. "You should go."
"What? Why?"
"You don't love me, you'll be miserable, I couldn't bear it-"
"But I can't go back to Raoul!" I pleaded, my voice quavering. "I can't go back, I'm not... I'm not good enough, I'm not a... a vicomtesse, I'm a chorus girl, and... and his family could disown him, and I would have ruined everything. How could I take all that away from him? And away from you?"
"You don't love me, though. You have not said that you love me."
"But I will, I think, after a time, I will truly love you. I have to. We are bound together in many ways, after all."
"Are you well?" he inquired. "Are you quite well? Yesterday you nearly killed the boy so that you could escape me, and now you come back, fully willing to marry me? Marry this?"
"I... I know... I'm sorry."
He sighed, "You're too kind and gentle, Christine... That's all this is, kindness, and perhaps a bit of madness... I'm going to take you away from the world, you know. You're going to live in a house with me until I die, then you'll be free to do as you please... Is that what you want? We'll have music for company, but other than that, only us two."
"I... I think I want that."
He grabbed my hand and removed the ring, "Leave, then! Leave, you wonderful being, leave! If you're not certain, go! You want to only see this hideous face the rest of your life? Hear my voice in your head, the voice that sings songs in your head? A day ago you would've died rather than do such a thing!"
"Because I thought you were going to hurt me!" I cried. "And you did hurt me. I'm covered in bruises from you, and after you let me go I knew..." I shook my head. "You won't hurt me now."
"I don't want to hurt you... and I didn't then, I was only... You understand why I was furious, though that's no excuse for harming you, there is no excuse for that..." His eyes cleared. "Are you marrying me so that you can have music?" he wondered aloud, still at odds with why I would return. "Is that why?"
"I could never part with your music... but I do love you, as a dear friend."
"If you insist... You keep insisting... I love you, Christine, more than anything."
"I know you do."
"Then you're coming? Honestly coming? This isn't a dream?"
"Yes, I'm coming. It's not a dream."
Perhaps I almost wished it was. My mind refused to agree with my heart about what my desires truly were. Logic told me I ought to remain with Raoul and not risk going somewhere with Erik, but my heart... my heart was somewhere else entirely, somewhere I could not see. It wanted me here, though. I wanted to be here, with him. It felt right.
