Erik entered the guest room with tray in hand to see how his captive was doing. It was nearly mid-morning and he hadn't heard Oscar coming out the room. Erik found her sitting on the bed, wearing the clothes he had provided. She looked somewhat smaller and weaker in Erik's clothes.
"Where is my sword?" Oscar asked accusingly. She could not remember a time when she slept without her sword. A soldier must live and die by his sword. She would have been happier dying fighting. She should have died while fighting the Prussians. Her father would have been proud of her.
"You are my prisoner. As such, you are not allowed to keep any weapon. You were in no state to use that sword of yours yesterday, but I will not risk you using it ever against me."
Erik didn't think Oscar would attempt or manage to harm him. He was more worried about the possibility of Oscar harming herself.
"Are you any good?" Erik could not help but ask.
"My sword is not for decoration," she answered bitterly. "However, I gave my consent to be your prisoner. I would not have used it against you."
She looked up and noticed Erik's half mask for the first time. She didn't think much of why he was wearing it. It was likely that he had been a victim of a war. It seemed to make him look stern and almost unearthly from a certain angle. She liked the contrast between his left side and right side; it somewhat made him look unique.
Erik felt Oscar's gaze fixed upon his face. A familiar irritation came over him.
"Are you wondering what is behind the mask?" His tone began harsh but slightly softened towards the end. It was a good sign that Oscar was showing some interest in anything, even if it was his damned facade.
"No. I was thinking that it somewhat suited you," Oscar replied, her eyes still stubbornly focused on his face.
"Eat," Erik commanded, handing the food tray over to Oscar. "I will show you around when you finish."
"Are you going to just stand there while I eat?"
"Yes."
Realising that there was no room for argument, Oscar emptied the food plate and the glass of wine slowly but without protest. She found it bizarre that her body accepted the food. It simply felt wrong that life went on without André. She inhaled deeply, trying to shake off her thoughts about André. She was not used to showing her emotions to others. She could think of him when she was alone. This was not a good time to dwell on memories. Despite her struggle, she felt acute pain rising through her chest and stomach, followed by a lump in her throat. Her tears were falling down unreservedly. She could hear nearly-but-not-quite subdued sobs escaping her lips. She covered her face with her hands, wishing that her captor would go away and leave her to her own misery.
Erik didn't leave the room. Oscar looked unbearably alone at that moment. Erik could almost understand why André had thrown his life away for her, without a moment's hesitation. He felt jealous of Oscar's dead lover. Nobody would grieve for him the way Oscar grieved for her André. He very much doubted Christine would shed tears of despair for him. She would probably feel sad but relieved at the same time. No matter what Christine was, she was not loyal. As time passed, Erik slowly stopped pining for her; his passion had finally died. Recalling her acts of betrayal certainly helped the gradual shift of his feelings towards her. He came to the conclusion that she had done both of them a favour. He would have eventually become bored of her childlike charms anyway. Rarely one found lasting satisfaction in those one pursued to the brink of madness. The prize would almost always be disappointing in the end, although it was still better to have it than just to dream of it.
Since the break of the Franco-Prussian war and political upheavals that followed it, people stopped paying so much attention to his mask. They had too much on their plate to be curious about such things. Since death and injury became all too common, many people came to regard a mask as one way of hiding unappetising injuries. The fear of uncertain futures meant that the hold of petty moral concerns on Parisians had considerably weakened. Everyone tried to live for the day, and the trivial moral concerns didn't rank very high in the list of their priorities. With his obsession over Christine waning steadily and his physical needs remaining, he had no qualms about putting his skills of seduction to good use. He took willing sexual partners without hesitation. He didn't even have to remain in his underground lair. He could have lived a normal life, as normal as allowed in the times of a political turmoil, had he chosen to do so. Since he was no longer forced to live alone, he chose to live in solitude. The humanity, regardless of its acceptance of him, held little appeal to him. Christine had created the illusion that a normal life was all he had ever wanted. With her gone, his illusion was no more. He was no longer jealous of the creatures of day light. He was too good for them.
He sat next to Oscar, pulling her head gently to his chest and wrapped his arms around her. Oscar tried to pull herself away from him, feeling ashamed of what she was doing. She would not allow herself to be pitied by another. Erik only tightened his grip on Oscar.
"You don't have to be in control all the time. Just let it go," he said softly.
Taken aback by the contents of his words, Oscar stopped her struggle and looked up to find his eyes. She saw the look of understanding. It was just that, understanding; it was not a feeble, clumsy attempt to console someone in distress. All her resolve to keep her grief to herself left her completely. She buried her head into his chest and let herself freely mourn for her lost love.
When Oscar finally lifted her head up from his chest and managed to make a small smile appear on her tear stained face, Erik decided that she was ready for the tour of his home. He showed her various rooms in his lair, except his own room, which, he made clear, Oscar would keep away from. She seemed not to show much interest in anything, but Erik felt that Oscar at least understood what each room was for. He let her retire from his company till the evening, which she seemed to be grateful for. He had no idea what he wanted to do with Oscar in the long run. For now, Erik was happy just to observe her.
Oscar joined him in the living room later in the evening, as she had been told to do so. Erik was pleased to see that there was something akin to trust in her eyes. She seemed to make an ideal prisoner. She ate food when instructed and sat where he told her to. Erik wondered whether she would fall asleep on command. He was sure she would wake up on command. She seemed to be determined to show that she was keeping her side of the bargain. He was almost confident that she would not attempt to escape her imprisonment; she would willingly stay with him till he let her go.
"Do you not want to go back to the army?" Erik asked. Not that her answer would have made any difference.
"No," she replied. "I do not enjoy giving orders to shoot civilians, armed or not."
"Do you have no desire to avenge your lover's death?" Almost as soon as he asked, Erik regretted his careless remark. Oscar's eyes revealed a succession of painful emotions. Slowly she turned her gaze away from Erik. This time, however, she managed to hold herself together.
"I am to blame for his death," Oscar offered her answer after a long awkward silence. "To which fate do you propose I ought to condemn myself, other than wallowing in self-loathing?"
Another long silence ensued, neither party trying to break it. They sat opposite each other, Oscar lost in a world of despair, her head hung low, with Erik contemplating the lonely figure in front of him.
"Were you not afraid that I would hand you over to the Communards?" Erik spoke again, seeing that she became too comfortable in her silence.
Oscar lifted up her head, trying to take in Erik's words. It was a rather slow process but she could make out what she had been asked.
"Why should I? The worst thing they could do to me is to kill me. I doubt that they have time to torture me."
"What made you think that I wouldn't do that to you?"
"I couldn't see any intention of harm from your eyes. It was a risk that I had to take. The alternative would have been desertion."
Erik tried his best to stifle laughter but could not suppress it altogether. What he thought would be her prison had been, in fact, her sanctuary. She had no life to go back to. She owed him her life in more ways than one.
"Do you realise that you would need a darned good excuse when you rejoin your unit? How would you explain your absence, without revealing your stay here?"
"I will think of something," she replied nonchalantly. "My whole life could be regarded as a lie. One more lie wouldn't break me."
"Was it? Was your entire life just a lie; a pretence to convince the world that you are a man?"