Part 4

Alone in her cell, Christine recalled every word of the two meetings. How like Raoul to think only of undoing what she had done, to be confident that he knew better than she did what she should do. How like him still to yearn for what he could not have, paying no heed to all the worldly advantages which he already possessed. He had position in society, he had sisters and their families to support him. He need not face his pain alone.

But Erik… despite her misgivings, he had submitted to her will, made no effort to take her back. That was not the the man whom she had known as her Angel of Music, possessive, demanding, masterful. But she recalled the fateful night when he had let her go away with Raoul. That had been a different Erik, one who placed her happiness above his own. And the man she had met today was that same Erik, respecting her freedom to make her own choices. No worldly advantages for him, no help or comfort. What was there now for him, if she let him walk away without another word? What would become of him?

She tried to reassure herself about him. He had conquered untold hardships in his long life, beset with difficulties. He could survive anything…

But could he survive a broken heart? He had never faced that trial before. And… nor had she. Until now. Christine tried to analyse her feelings honestly. Had she been deceiving herself? When she came here, was she running to her proper home? Or running away from what had gone before? She recalled telling the prioress that she had made her decision wholeheartedly. Those words mocked her now. Her heart was not whole; it belonged to another. It was time for her to face the truth.

Christine had wanted to do some good with what was left of her life. Now, she reasoned, she saw a way that she could do good. But could she trust her reason? For her heart leapt within her, and she understood that her reason simply pointed her to an action which she had secretly longed to take. She hesitated a moment more, then took pencil and paper, and wrote a short note.

O-O-O

There was a long quiet in the interview room. Erik stared blindly at the posy of flowers on the table. He had seen the shimmer of tears in Christine's eyes. No one else in his life had ever thought him worth tears, or worth a kiss. He recalled the days when he had sought to control her, to own her. How wrong he had been! She had taught him better, with the pure goodness which was in her. She could have taught him so much more. He recalled how he had given her the gift of freedom, at such cost to himself. But it seemed that she did not want freedom, having immured herself here. He tried not to think of it as his gift being flung back in his face, tried to hope that she had found her way to happiness.

A soft tap at the door broke the silence. Erik's mind came back to the present. How long had he been sitting here, with the prioress motionless in her corner, regarding him gravely?

The door opened and the messenger entered, bowing in apology. She handed her superior a note and left without speaking. His thoughts disturbed, Erik rose to leave.

"Monsieur, you agreed to a short interview with me, if I granted you this time with Sister Cecilia. Please do not go yet."

He shrugged, and sat down again. "What is left to say?"

"That you must make a life for yourself, one of which you need not be ashamed. Sister Cecilia spoke of your having shed blood, ruined lives, and those memories pained her. Surely you do not wish to cause her more pain. Can you make up your mind to refrain from actions which distress her? It would please her, and God, if you could try to live for others, not just yourself."

"Look at me, Madame." He removed his mask and turned his gaze full on the prioress. Most people, when he did that, would run from him. Some screamed, some fainted. All too many seized a weapon and lashed out at him. The nun's eyes widened a little, but she met his eyes without flinching, and he felt grudging admiration for her courage. "The God whom you worship did this to me, blasted a child in the womb who had committed no sin, unless being conceived is a sin. Was I punished for the sins of my father or grandfathers? Does not God visit the iniquity of the fathers on the children, unto the third and fourth generations?"

"So it is said in the Old Testament. Other parts of the bible say exactly the opposite, that we answer for our own sins but not for those of others. If you wish to debate the subject, find a Jesuit priest who will no doubt discuss comparative theology with you until you are weary. For myself, I speak only of your own life. I have learned from Sister Cecilia's foster mother how you taught her to sing. Your face, I can see, is a burden, but your music is a gift. Who is to say which is more important? But even if the burden looms the greater to you, that does not give you the right to vent your anger on others, to punish those who have never harmed you."

"And what of those who have harmed me? My life has not been one to encourage me to love my fellow man." Drawing his mask back over his face, he let his hands close into fists, as though at bitter memories, as he rested them on the table.

"How often have you tried? Human affection can do much to give comfort. It may even influence a sinner to turn away from evil."

"And lead the sinner back to God?" Erik asked sarcastically.

"We hope only for the best that humankind can do. We do not demand miracles." The prioress glanced again at the note in her hand. "Monsieur, you asked what was left to be said. There is something you must know. When Christine Daaé came to us, seeking sanctuary, I could see her turmoil, and that she needed a time of peace. I made arrangements that she could live among us, that she could wear the full habit for whatever protection it might give her. But I would not allow her, in that state of mind, to consider taking vows. She is simply a guest here. She may leave at any time she chooses."

Erik slumped back in his chair. His eyes closed for a moment, but his heart rejoiced. Christine was free! She had not rejected his gift after all, not sought new chains to bind her. His clenched hands opened, like a caged bird released into the air.

The prioress watched him, and seemed to read his thoughts. Then they both heard the sound of a soft step at the door. "Yes," she said. "Christine is free. Perhaps she will leave… when she sees her way to the life which will make her truly happy."

The door opened, and Christine entered, clad in a plain blue travelling gown, her unshorn hair drawn up in a hasty coil. For a moment she paused, then stretched her hand out to him, and smiled.

Slowly, swaying, he rose to his feet. The prioress had said, 'we do not demand miracles.' But the miracle had happened, the miracle stood there smiling at him. A mist blurred his vision, only her face clear to his eyes. Her eyes shone, without tears, without doubts.

Erik took Christine's hand, and together they walked out of the room, out of the convent, and into the sunshine.

O-O-O THE END O-O-O