Chapter 2

The next night Erik found himself on the same route he'd walked the night before. The incident of his purse bothered him so much he just could not let it go.

Him, fooled by a boy!

It all seemed clear to him now. The little thief probably did it every night. He probably had a whole room full of violins and always waited for strangers to come by and break them. Oh he was a crafty little devil but he wouldn't escape him now. Without rain it was much easier to see in the darkness, and Erik scanned the streets for any sign of the boy.

Finally, he spotted him! He was on the steps of a building with a blanket tied around him and a bandage over his eyes.

"Pretending to be blind eh?" Erik thought. This boy was good, but he'd see how good he really was once he got his hands on him.

Stealthily Erik crept up to the steps of the building to where the boy sat shivering with a small mug in his hand. It was already filled with coins and francs, evidently it had been a good night.

The boy cocked his head to one side, sensing Erik's presence. "Excuse me monsieur, spare a little for a poor blind orphan." He pitifully extended the mug.

"I believe it is you who owe me money, boy." Erik said, and with that he ripped the boy's bandage from his eyes.

The boy's eyes widened in fear as he recognized his previous night's mark. He dropped the mug and bolted up, but before he could run Erik had him by the back of his collar. "You're not going anywhere!"

He took the trembling boy to the street and held him by his shirt. It was obvious he wasn't used to being caught, and was at that moment thinking that any man who could catch him was dangerous. Erik decided to take advantage of this fear to solve this matter quickly.

"Did you take my purse? And don't' lie to me!" He said with a slight shake of his arm.

"Y-yes monsieur, I t-took it."

"Give it back" said Erik calmly.

The boy reached into the folds of his blanket, pulled out the black velvet purse and handed it to Erik with a trembling hand. Letting go of the boy, Erik took his purse.

"Don't move." He said authoritatively. The boy stood rooted to the spot as Erik counted the money. "Well, it's all here." He concluded, sheathing the purse in his cloak. "Now tell me, do you always lay in wait for people to break your violins?"

"No monsieur, I was going to beg you for money for my starving sister. You breaking my violin was just a happy coincidence." He joked nervously, attempting to be friendly with this interrogator in hopes it would give him a lighter sentence.

The audacity of this boy. "And let me guess you have no sister?" ventured Erik.

The boy shook his head, "No, but that was my only violin. You really did break it."

"Now tell me how it is you can afford an expensive violin? Did you steal that too?"

"No." he swore, "No I found it."

"Found it?" Erik replied skeptically, "Where?"

"I was looking through the garbage of the opera house for something I could sell and I found it there." The boy confessed eagerly, "It was really beautiful and I couldn't understand why someone would throw it out. I just couldn't sell it. I didn't know how to play, but I wanted to keep it for myself. I thought to teach myself so I could play it on the street corner for money."

Erik stared down at the penitent figure silently. He couldn't believe it, the boy was telling the truth. He knew because he had been the one to throw the violin out.

He had forgotten until now. After Christine had left, looking at that violin had brought back painful memories. After all, he had used it to lure her to him. After a particularly morose night he'd thrown the offending object out of his sight on the rue scribe side to the opera.

Erik made sure his expression did not change, "You meant to teach yourself how to play the violin?" he continued passively, not betraying his small epiphany.

The boy bowed his head, "Yes."

"You do know that that violin is one of the most difficult instruments to play, boy?"

"I knew it would be hard, but I thought if I just kept at it, I could learn enough to play simple tunes for coins." The boy had stopped trembling and was now just sniffling softly.

Erik's anger had also faded. He saw a part of himself in the boy and had to say shared some sympathy. He knew what it was like to be homeless; no food, the clothes on your back dirty, all alone. He'd stolen many purses in his day.

"Tell me boy, what's your name?" his tone much softer now.

The boy hesitated. Erik scared him, but if he didn't tell his name he was afraid he might hurt him. "It's David monsieur." He said at last.

"And you have no place to sleep do you?"

"No monsieur, I sleep wherever I can find shelter."

"What if I said I could give you a warm place to sleep and food to eat?"

The boy, David, looked at him warily; Erik could see the tug of war taking place inside him. The boy didn't trust him, that much was obvious, but the promise of food and shelter was too tempting and sorely needed.

"I assure you, you need not worry. I won't hurt you."

"What do you want in return?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do I have to do anything for you?"

"What?" Erik replied, not quite sure what he meant but certain he didn't like it.

"Do I have to do any favors for you?" said the David with uncomfortable emphasis.

Erik was completely aghast at the boy's suggestion and made it known. "OF COURSE NOT!" he bellowed, "I'm appalled you would think such a thing! I have no other interest in you than to see you safe and off these dirty streets, where on earth would you get such a foul notion as that?"

David looked at him with hard eyes, "I've never actually taken part but other boys on the streets have told me about those kinds of people; who take you in and give you shelter only to demand things. It's not the boys who are to blame Monsieur; they do it to stay alive."

Erik was shocked. "I had no idea." He knelt in front of the boy. "I promise you, I have nothing of that in mind for you."

The boy looked relieved but still looked rather puzzled, "Why?" he asked Erik, "Why do anything for me? I stole your purse."

Erik paused and thought on the matter himself. Why should he suddenly care whether some orphan roamed the streets or not? It was not like him to look out for the best interests of others. A lifetime of living under the heel of mankind had hardened him against goodwill towards his fellow man.

But he could not deny that in the few minutes he had been talking to this urchin he had felt something close to comfortable. Although mostly unpleasant in topic, it had felt good to talk to another living soul. In the end he concluded, did he really need a reason? He was the infamous opera ghost and if he chose to bestow favor on someone it was his whim and his business. And that was the end of it.

"Perhaps it's because you remind me of someone from long ago."

After studying the grim caped figure for a minute, the boy nodded with a resigned, "All right then, I'll go. I have nothing to lose."

Erik found the young boy's fatalistic nature disturbing. What little time he had already spent on the streets had evidently taken their toll. But there perhaps still hope.

He pointed in the direction of the opera "Come now, David is it? Come David, I'll show you to your new home."

"Exactly where is that monsieur?" asked David following him.

"Someplace you've been before, in a way."