A/N: Here, another chapter! And I know, the rhythm is still a little quiet, but I can't help it! It's just that in my sight, Erik and Christine's relationship is in the beginning a fragile and complicate thing, each of them staying on their guard. Christine, because she is standing face-to-face with an unknown man that she ignore his intents and Erik, because he knows that he has misbehaved towards Christine and he fears to frighten and offend her even more if he's not careful with his acts. I regard this awakening relation like a fragile rosebud that needs time, cares and spirit to grow and blossom in its entire splendor. But all this might change after a little naughty hand commit a huge mistake… stay tuned for new developments! I remain as always, my dear readers, your obedient servant, Taedium Vitae…

~ Chapter 7 ~
– Trust –

Emerging from the capricious meanderings of a dream where she wandered endlessly, Christine awoke again in the luxury and comfort of a large and cozy bed. Her eyelids fluttered a few seconds, her gaze fixed on the flame of the candle burning on the nightstand. Still half asleep, she straightened up to sit on the mattress and quickly realized that she was no longer in the same room, although it was plunged into darkness. The mahogany four-poster bed with carved columns and decorated with refined marquetry, the opalescent tulle veils adorned with lace and the white bedding embroidered with a delicate pattern of red roses were clearly of feminine style. With a mechanical gesture, she combed her disheveled hair behind her shoulders and opening the thin curtains, she got up. Taking the candle, she explored the place briefly before discovering on the wall a gaslight she hastened to light. Soon, a pale glow bathed the room, revealing to her stunned eyes the mysteries and richness that the darkness had hidden.

She walked timidly in the middle of the room and froze when she discovered the luxury and tastefulness of the furnishings that had been chosen and prepared for her. Several thick Persian rugs with intricate and elegant patterns covered the ground and a pale blue toile de Jouy decorated with exotic birds and flowers covered the walls. A lovely secretary desk garnished with a full writing set and topped by several drawers and small shelves stood against the left wall. On the other side, near the large bed was a small bookcase with a chaise longue, a coffee table and a reading lamp. Near the door was an old "Louis Philippe" chest of drawers covered with a marble top, on which were placed two white vases filled with red roses. A canvas screen painted with peacocks and trees behind which was a large and high closet occupied one corner of the room. While her eyes roamed on the unknown decor, Christine felt inexplicably at ease and comfortable, as if she had always lived in this place.

She walked around the room dreamily; her fingers touching with wonder the luxurious woodwork and delicate draperies until she reached the screen and the huge wardrobe, and opened one of the sliding walls. Her face paled suddenly when she discovered what was contained in the piece of furniture. A full and rich trousseau composed of dresses all different and of all colors, some fine silk and linen chemises, dozens of shoes, a few mantles and capes and several hats more distinguished from each other was carefully suspended on hangers. If she had even the slightest doubt about the origin of the gifts she had received after the performance, she had none anymore. The blatant proof that they came from this man, Erik, spread openly in front of her dazed eyes.

Still troubled by her discovery, she walked into the room and saw a second door she pushed with a curious and improper excitement. The wooden panel opened to reveal a sumptuous bathroom with pale purple tiled, fully equipped for all conveniences. Christine had never seen a so big marble bathtub, which was far from the jug and small ceramic bowl that she usually used for her cleansing. Approaching the sink, she splashed her face with water before drying herself with the thick and fluffy towel available. Her head throbbed and seethed like a boiling cauldron. She came back in the room and collapsed on the meridian before gently massaging her temples with her fingertips.

It was insane! After having her tricked, spellbound and abducted, this man now treated her with all the respect that was due to a princess what made her feel quite uncomfortable. She ignored whether she should be scared to death, mad with anger or simply grateful for his courtesy and generosity. The situation was so extraordinary and bizarre that she could hardly believe it. She was sure to be still asleep and everything was a bad dream that would disappear upon awakening. She didn't know what to think; so many questions, doubts and fears of which she dreaded the consequences swirled in her painful head and harried her tired and stunned mind. She passed her hand over her eyes wearily before exhaling a heavy sigh.

Amidst the chaos of tormented emotions that oppressed her heart, she suddenly heard the distant and faint melody of a violin whose sad and sweet notes instantly soothed her turmoil and the frenzy of her disordered thoughts. Captivated and attracted by the divine music, she got up like an automaton, as if her body didn't obey her reason, but to the poetic chords that whispered softly their call in her ear. She followed the traces of the chant that led her into the living room and then in the bedroom where she had awoken earlier in the night. In the middle of the room, she saw the violinist standing near a high lectern on which was spread several sheets covered with music notes and annotations. He was standing with his back to her and immersed in his composition, however, she had barely crossed the threshold that he stopped and lowered his bow at his side, his violin still resting on his shoulder. Surprised and embarrassed to have been spotted, Christine froze, still observing the imposing and intimidating man's shape.

-"Forgive me, Christine, I didn't want to wake you up," he apologized humbly. "A new oeuvre has crossed my mind and I was afraid of forgetting it if I didn't write without delay. The inspiration is often so unpredictable, ephemeral and perishable that it's essential to grasp it when it arose in our consciousness."

An awkward silence hovered in the room as they remained both motionless, evaluating and considering this new unusual situation that they faced.

-"I haven't dreamed the events of the night! Everything was real… You are real!"

-"I'm afraid so, my dear Christine. The truth is much more sordid and cruel than you have imagined, isn't it?" he emphasized with a sad glance over his shoulder. "Be sure that I'm the first to be sorry. I wish I could offer you better than this filthy cellar, but we must often resign ourselves to accept the infamy of our fate, especially in my case."

With a disappointed sneer, he lowered his violin and stared stoically at the wall in front of him, refusing to confront the accusing gaze of the girl.

-"Who are you?"

-"I thought you had guessed. I am your Angel of Music, but I am rather known for being the Phantom of the Opera."

-"This is not what I meant. Who are you really?"

-"Nobody…" he announced with a weary sigh, his head sagging against his chest. "An unfortunate damned soul who has heard your desperate prayers and who believed, in an unguarded moment, to be able to rescue an Angel fallen from heaven by giving her back her lost glory."

Listening to his soft and sincere words, Christine felt a sudden incredible and incomprehensible compassion for her captor, though she had every reason to hate and despise him. She should have a cold heart to not be moved by the sadness of this man who, despite his faults, his lies and his strange appearance, had dared to take her to his secret house.

Bothered by this sterile silence, Erik laid his fiddle and his bow on the music stand before turning around to finally face Christine's look. However, he didn't really discovered what he had imagined. Frozen near the threshold, her luminous eyes were carefully laid on him while she fiddled with her hands nervously, what she was always doing when she was uncomfortable.

Christine felt her cheeks reddened when he stood in front of her. His shirt and vest were widely ajar, revealing his upper torso and a dark downy hair on which she couldn't prevent her gaze to linger. He noticed easily where her attention was and he hastened to button up his clothes, clearing his throat in embarrassment.

-"Forgive me this unkempt clothing, unsuitable to host a girl, but I wasn't expecting to see you," he announced before adjusting the collar of his shirt.

-"Oh, sorry, I did not…" she stammered, looking away. "I'm sorry…"

-"Don't be!" he reassured, fastening his waistcoat.

If she was impolite, in this case, he was just as much, since he has also taken great delight in browsing and admiring the sublime contours of her womanly form still dressed in her filmy nightgown.

-"You're here in your home, Christine, and you have nothing to fear," he asserted, approaching a little. "Think of this place as a refuge far from the cruelty of men. You will never be insulted, blamed or mistreated within these walls, I promise you!"

She gazed him a moment in bewilderment. She could hardly believe that this gallant and courteous man was the same person who had deceived her for months and had finally abducted and locked her in his lair.

-"Thank you… Monsieur," she added hesitantly, not knowing how to name it.

-"I am hardly worthy of such a title," he quipped. "You can call me Erik, it will suffice."

-"All right… Thanks, Erik," she stammered, confused to sustain a certain casualness with her guardian.

While a confused silence settled once more between them, Christine's belly gave a loud and hoarse roar of which she was terribly embarrassed. At this touching and almost melodious sound, his eyes widened with surprise and amusement, before she looked away, blushing even more. With this fast movement, a long and thick lock of her hair slid on her delicate shoulder, touched her milky throat and unfolded on her graceful chest like a little serpentine. How he would have wanted to reach out, bury his fingers in her lush hair and comb this silky recalcitrant curl behind her lovely ear whose geometric finesse and perfection deserved a serenade! But he didn't move, and merely closed his fists vigorously until he feels his nails dig into the flesh of his palms.

-"I'm really an awful and negligent host!" he announced with a contrite air. "You must be hungry after the prodigious effort that you have achieved last night during the show! It's true that breakfast time is already passed for a few hours."

-"Really? What time is it?"

-"It's a little more than nine o'clock in the morning," he announced, putting on his black velvet robe.

-"So late!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening.

She was always an early riser, awakening often in the wee hours of dawn and lazy mornings were quite exceptional in her habits, but the events of the evening and the night had been quite exhausting and extraordinary that she deserved to bend the rules.

-"Yes, the passage of time is invisible and almost nonexistent in the depths of these catacombs. Sometimes it flees with the swiftness of lightning without we realize it, but more often it stagnates in a moribund slowness like the dead waters of a marsh, giving the oppressive feeling that the days and nights extend to infinity in the darkness, making us forget that outside the light is shining and life is blossoming. The sun doesn't caress with its fiery golden rays the unfathomable abysses of my tomb," he murmured wistfully, his sad and pensive eyes wandering aimlessly in the void.

Christine took a hesitant step towards him, anxious and troubled to see him falling as quickly and irresistibly into sullenness and despair. She wanted to touch his arm or squeeze his hand to comfort him, but she didn't know what his reaction would be, so she chose to repress her gesture.

After a quick wink, he regained his consciousness, his eyes dim and distant focusing on her, again full of determination, strength and pride.

-"Um, I'm sorry for these ravings, Christine," he apologized as he cleared his throat. "There is a clock in every room of the house, if you ever feel lost."

-"It's late. Should I not join the others for rehearsals?" she hazarded.

-"No, you don't need, nor today, nor tomorrow, nor for the next five days when you will stay with me," he said in a tone categorical and unquestionable.

-"But, won't they worry about my disappearance?"

-"Have no concern. I've taken care of all the little details inherent in your sojourn in my house. Forget these idiots and debauchees unworthy of your anxieties. You're out of their harmful reach in this place."

-"And… why those five days?" she dared ask.

-"Because after these five days are past, you would have learned to know me and would no longer fear me. And then, you will come, from time to time, to see your poor Erik."

He uttered these words with such a pathetic and cruel despair that Christine raised a tender look on his mask.

-"But we are not yet at the time of departure, quite the contrary. During this stay in my kingdom, your mind will be free from all worries, doubts and sorrows. You will be lulled with music, magic and dreams… worshiped like a Goddess… pampered like a Queen… I'll be your humble servant, and I will make a point to grant the slightest and most insignificant of your desires. And now, allow me to invite you at my table," he announced, spreading his hand eagerly towards the door.

Christine was mysteriously fascinated by his movements so graceful that he seemed to move to the rhythm of music he was the only one to hear. Charmed by the delicacy of this simple courteous gesture, she followed him like a puppet whose strings he pulled without even needing to touch her. He led her into the dining room, dominated by a huge dark oak table lit by two candlesticks and covered by a wide lace doily.

After having sat the girl comfortably on one of the high wooden chairs, he disappeared into the kitchen in the adjoining room. During his absence, she observed absently this place that would be part of her livings during the following days. Two sumptuous and imposing glazed wooden dressers were placed on each side of the room, overflowing with fine porcelain dinnerware, silverware and crystal glassware. A high and austere Comtoise clock stood against the back wall between two buffets which contained the table linen. The solitary meals had to be dreary and depressing in this vast room dark and quiet. She imagined easily this man sitting face-to-face with nothingness, the occasional clock ringing and the dull clatter of cutlery on the plate being the rare sounds that disturbed the tranquility of his exile.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Erik reappeared in the doorway, carrying a large tray covered with food he placed diligently in front of Christine. Her eyes widened as much with amazement as with hunger, contemplating the feast he had prepared. There were small loafs of white bread, croissants, pastries, fresh butter, jam, honey, various fruits, and especially Christine's weakness, hot chocolate still steaming. Her stomach gave a new roar, excited at the sight of these tempting treats. She wasn't accustomed to so much abundance. Her breakfast was ordinary limited to a slice of brown bread, a piece of cheese and a bowl of tea which was served in the refectory of the Opera in company of the other residents. She didn't know whether to rejoice or feel guilty of being the object of such care and attention.

-"It's too much for me!"

-"Whatever I do, it will never be enough for me to pay the debt I owe you," he assured with conviction. "Every single hour that you have spent listening and singing to me is more worthy than all the treasures of the universe. You probably cannot imagine the priceless gift that you have given me in a manner so innocent, humble and blind. I hope that one day I would be able to thank you as you truly deserve."

-"That's very generous of you. Thank you very much," she stammered, looking down.

-"It is I who thank you for giving me such happiness!"

With gallantry, he poured a cup of cocoa while she leaned over the table to breathe the appetizing aromas which escaped from the tray.

-"Voilà," he announced, filling the porcelain bowl. "Bon appétit, my dear!"

Her belly complaining of hunger, she grabbed a loaf of bread she greedily bit, the golden crust crunching with delight on her teeth and the delicious smell invading her nostrils. Erik gave a faint smile at this charming show before heading to the opposite table end where he sat.

-"You do not eat?" she asked, her mouth still half full.

-"No, excuse me if I don't join you, but I have already lunched heartily," he confessed in a half-lie. "But don't worry about me, eat your fill!"

Despite her embarrassment of eating alone and, what is more, under the careful and inflexible eye of her guardian, she took another bite of bread and a sip of chocolate. It was exquisite.

-"Mmm… It is sublime!" she murmured with delight after passing the tip of her tongue over her lips, what the Phantom didn't fail to notice and appreciate.

-"No, you are sublime!" he admired, dreamily.

At these words, she lowered her eyes and her cheeks blushed delicately to the young man's delight.

Erik had never seen Christine eating or, rather, he had never witnessed this ritual so closely. He was viscerally fascinated, hypnotized, mesmerized by this enchanting spectacle and he literally stared at her ravenously. Every gesture of her hands, of her fingers, every movement of her mouth and lips were a divine dance she performed with seraphic grace as if she was unable to perform any gross blunder. He had never imagined that an activity so mundane may prove to be, in reality, a moment of pure bliss.

-"Hum… By the way, I haven't really had the opportunity to congratulate you properly for your prodigious triumph," he announced, trying to regain some semblance of control over his emotions. "You were simply divine! I believe all the words of all languages wouldn't be sufficient to describe the glory and beauty that you have given to humanity. I can say in all sincerity that this is the first time that the Palais Garnier was honored to receive a so splendid Angel on its modest scene!" he complimented with fervor.

At this flattering praise, Christine's face reddened even more as she almost shriveled on her chair, confused at being the center of such acclaim. Since the death of her father, and then of the Valérius parents, she hadn't been as pampered and appreciated than by this man, what made her feel oddly uncomfortable and intimidated. With a clumsy and hesitant hand, she tried to butter her bread, but she only succeeded in dropping her knife on the floor, staining the rich Persian carpet with a huge fat smudge. Cursing her clumsiness, she leapt up suddenly and knocked over her chair before bringing her hands to her mouth, horrified and ashamed at the sight of her negligence. She remembered, during a visit to the Chagny's mansion in Perros-Guirec, to have committed the same gaucherie on a sumptuous Oriental carpets and she was severely reprimanded and punished by the housekeeper. Since this unfortunate episode, she feared constantly spilling her food and causing any dirtiness. Her stomach tightening with fear, she waited for the reproaches and outcries of the Phantom.

Alarmed by her sudden and excessive reaction of fear, Erik got up quickly and hurried to her side. During a split second, he had feared to have committed a mistake and to have outraged her by his remarks, but he was quickly reassured when he understood the truth.

-"I'm sorry… I-it was an accident," she stammered, looking at him with frightened and almost tearful eyes.

-"It's nothing, Christine. Calm down," he reassured in a soft and soothing voice. "In fact, I would say that I'm the one at fault, because it seems that my words have surprised and shaken you."

-"Yes… uh, I mean, no! Well, that is to say, I'm not used to being adored and spoiled of such privileges by a complete stranger," she admitted bluntly.

-"I'm not a complete stranger," he specified sadly before leaning to pick up the overturned chair on the floor. "Haven't I talked and listened to you over the past six months? Haven't you considered me as a friend and a father who you could trust?"

-"Yes, it's true, forgive my rudeness. I'm a little nervous, wearied and bewildered," she defended before tightening her arms around her chest. "After all, there are only a few hours that I discovered that you were my Angel of Music, a being of flesh and blood and not just a spirit from heaven."

-"I understand, my dear," he assured after sitting her in the chair.

He went down on one knee before her, and tried to take her hand; however, he changed his mind and merely clasped his fingers on the armrest.

-"I am fully aware of the inner storm you must feel while your beliefs and hopes are suddenly wiped away by a cruel sweep of my hand. All these events must seem so strange, unreal, impossible and even disappointing to you," he confessed humbly. "This may sound foolish, but this situation is just as shocking to me. It took me a lot of courage and determination to dare appear before you and bring you in my lair, knowing my faults and my sins towards you, not to mention my hideous appearance. I'm not trying to justify my actions or obtain your forgiveness of which I am unworthy, but I just want you to know and understand the reasons that led me to act as I did."

In silence, Christine looked at him, perplexed, not knowing how to react to his revelations. Her sensible and reflective side wanted to blame him for his lies and deception; however her heart convinced her to show patience, tolerance and compassion towards this complex and lonely man. Despite his mistakes, he had offered her countless joys and immeasurable comfort when he sang and played for her in her moments of sadness. Her father had always said to not be deceived by appearances, for true beauty was found within the heart. The generosity and wisdom he had instilled in her during her childhood had always guided her and she had always tried to follow his example and to be worthy of it. Her Guardian deserved to have a second chance to redeem himself for his sins and prove his fair value.

With a shy and uncertain gesture, she placed her hand on the Ghost's one and wrapped it gently with her small fingers.

-"I think I understand," she confessed with kindness.

Erik's blood froze in his veins, his breath died in his lungs and his heart stopped beating instantly at this divine contact. His gaze lowered and he watched with amazement this carnal encounter. She touched him! Her gorgeous, warm, silky, delicate, perfect skin was brushing his imperfect one! He swallowed with difficulty when he sensed her tiny fingers tighten around his rough palm. Nobody, not even his mother had ever touched him with such tenderness and softness. His eyelids fluttered, and he raised his bemused look over her radiant and angelic face. His pulse began to throb violently and to rush with euphoria as he read the infinite kindness and inconceivable compassion sparkling in her bright eyes.

-"I trust you, my Angel…" he murmured, his voice wavering.

A strange feeling had awakened in Christine when her hand had touched Erik's one, as if an electric shock had traveled down her spine, exciting each of her nerve endings. Her cheeks heated, her breath had deepened and her heart had missed a beat before pounding slightly. Lost in the clear affectionate look of the young man, she felt stir and raised in her heart a feeling she had never known before, galvanizing and exhilarating her by the gentleness and the serenity it aroused in her soul, but she didn't know how to name it.

The austere and gloomy clock ringing stopped with a cruel indifference this precious and profound exchange. Intimidated, Christine slowly withdrew her hand and turned her face away, her ears blushing like two peonies. Erik would have wanted to scream of despair and throw himself into the girl's arms that he never wanted to leave, but as always, he restrained himself and regained control of his emotions.

-"Oh, I'm really a scatterbrain! I babble incessantly and prevent you from eating peacefully," he apologized before he picked up the dirty knife on the ground. "I'll fetch you another one."

Swiftly, he walked to the kitchen and reappeared almost immediately, brandishing a clean utensil and laid it next to Christine's plate. Then he sat back in his chair at the other end of the table as she shyly resume her hearty breakfast, throwing an occasional glance at the young man who was watching her with his imperturbable and hypnotic look. Terribly embarrassed and confused to be scrutinized so carefully during her meal, she thought in vain to find a topic that would somehow divert the Phantom's vigilance. However, after several minutes of awkward silence, Erik started a voluble and enthusiastic monologue in which he criticized and disparaged the poor performance of others actors, the false notes and dissonances of the orchestra and finally the technical slowness and incoordination of the machinists behind the stage. Christine listened with interest without a word, occasionally nodding to indicate her agreement or smiling timidly to one of his mocking and tongue-in-cheek comments. According to his speech, she seemed to have been the only perfect person on stage from beginning to end of the performance.

Savoring her last sip of hot chocolate, Christine placed her cup on the tray amidst some food scraps that she had left and wiped her mouth with her napkin. Her satiated and filled stomach let out a smug gasp that she stifled in her hand before putting her rag on the table.

-"I haven't eaten so well for ages. It was exquisite," she thanked, leaning back comfortably in her chair.

-"You're welcome," he announced, getting up and approaching her. "I am delighted that you have recovered your appetite."

-"My appetite? What do you mean?" she wondered, frowning.

-"Well, I do not want to be indiscreet, but in recent weeks, I could not help but notice that you ate very little and you had even lost weight. I was afraid that you're sick, but your hunger today proves to me that I was wrong," he explained, gathering the dirty cutlery.

Christine raised a stunned look on her Guardian and remained speechless. Nobody, not even Madame Giry and Meg had noticed that she had lost three pounds lately. Yet this man, who had never met her in the flesh, who was watching and spying her from the distant darkness, had discerned this tiny change without difficulty.

-"It is true that I was a little anxious and overworked during the previous days, often neglecting my appetite. However, everything should return to normal now that we…" she stopped suddenly, not knowing how to finish her sentence.

Erik looked at her almost with hope and interest, wondering if she thought about their unexpected reunion.

-"Now that I survived my first ordeal alone on stage," she replied, averting her face.

If he was disappointed by her answer, he didn't show it and merely took the tray he brought in the kitchen.

Christine's thoughts were chaotic and indecisive, changing opinion from one moment to another without she came to a decision. Her heart was relieved and even happy to finally be reunited with her Teacher, what she had hoped for so long, but her pragmatic mind kept reminding her that this man had spied, manipulated and deceived her during these many months until he finally abducted and imprisoned her in his secret lair. She felt as much welfare as discomfort of being with her Guardian, neither of these two antagonistic feelings prevailing over the other.

Erik reappeared again, stepping forward in fluid and proud pace, his tall figure draped in his black velvet robe that floated around his legs like the huge wings of a crow. The girl's heart skipped a beat at the sight of this dark and strangely bewitching vision, as if his mere presence was enough to charm and seduce his prey that he could capture submissively.

-"Perhaps you'd like to freshen up and put on an outfit more appropriate for the day," he pointed, unable to prevent his eyes from dropping on her sumptuous curves deliciously enhanced by her diaphanous nightgown.

She lowered her eyes and blanched, realizing she was exhibited to his view in these clothes as alluring and suggestive as indecent.

-"Yes, please," she mumbled, closing the robe on her plunging neckline.

-"Come, Christine, I'll lead you to your apartment," he proposed, waving her to follow him.

She obeyed him meekly and he headed her to her housing, opening the door with gallantry.

-"By the way, dare I ask you whether you like your room?" he announced and invited her to enter.

-"Oh, yes… it's gorgeous! I've never seen a so beautiful and luxurious one! Thank you, Monsieur… Erik," she rectified while he frowned to correct her.

-"Well, I'll leave you to your ablutions. If you need anything or you lack something, don't hesitate to let me know. I am your humble servant," he announced before tilting his head in deference and closing out the door.

X X X X

After a moment's hesitation, Christine entered the bathroom to run a hot bath. As she immersed and relaxed in the warm water scented with one of the many oils placed on a shelf, she heard through the wall the sweet melody of the piano rising in the next room. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the ecstasy of music, willing to momentarily forget the perilous situation in which she was and enjoy the incomparable virtuosity of her Professor. The chords were sometimes light and hopeful as the chirping of a bird and sometimes sad and weary as the complaint of the dark winter wind.

When the chant stopped and she opened her eyes again, almost an hour had passed unknowingly. The water had cooled down and she left the bath hastily for fear of getting sick. She wrapped herself in a large thick towel, took a dry cloth and dried her hair before applying a creamy jasmine-scented lotion on their whole length. Relaxed after this pleasant bath, she returned to the room and approached the huge closet where she pulled out a dress at random. It was a pale purple dress consisting of a skirt and a lovely camisole half-open on a blouse decorated with a delicate cream lace pattern. As she donned this rich outfit, a stream of sporadic and brief notes were heard, interspersed by long silence and indistinct murmurs.

Finally dressed, she looked for a mirror to make sure her toilette was acceptable, but she found nothing in the room or in the bathroom. The reason for this absence suddenly sprang to her eyes, cursing her stupidity for not having thought of it earlier. If this man hated his appearance, it was clear there would be no mirrors in his house.

After having briefly combed her hair without being able to ensure that she didn't look like a scarecrow, she left her lodging to join the living room where Erik sat at the piano, leaning on a manuscript that he was scribbling frantically. Standing on the threshold of her chamber, she let her eyes wander around the room curiously. She remembered perfectly the grand black piano, the many libraries collapsing under the books and the few dark wooden chairs upholstered with purple velvet decorated with lilies. In the opposite corner, she saw a door closed with a thick velvet curtain which probably led to a small vestibule and to the entrance. Beside the piano stood a magnificent black marble fireplace whose hearth was covered with crumpled papers half charred. It was probably the place where perished the unfinished, poor and unsatisfactory works of her Maestro. On the mantelpiece was laid the open case of the violin as well as a flute.

Careful not to disturb her professor in his work, she tiptoed through the room, but he suddenly turned around as she approached and his eyes widened with admiration on seeing her wearing one of the outfits from the wardrobe he had provided and fashioned specifically for her. She was resplendent and the purple matched perfectly with her milky complexion and brown hair, highlighting the glare of her big brown eyes.

-"My dear, you're amazing," he exclaimed as he stood up. "But please, come in and have a seat."

He indicated her politely a chair near the fireplace on which she took place.

-"Did you find everything you needed?" he asked, sitting on the sofa nearby.

-"Yes, it's so much more than I'm used to have, except… well, I mean... I didn't find a mirror," she stammered, her fingers nervously playing with the folds of her skirt.

-"Ah! This is a detail that escaped me! But I must admit that I'm not very familiar with these unpleasant accessories," he quipped in a sardonic tone. "I make it my duty to get you one as soon as possible, even if you didn't need it. You are splendid regardless of your looks or your clothing!"

She turned her face to the piano to hide her embarrassment and her rosy cheeks. This man never ceased to praise and compliments her as if he was incapable of uttering a deprecating word to her. His courteous and kind manner was such a contrast with the kidnapping and deceit he had accomplished that she didn't know what to think or believe about him.

-"What were you writing and playing?" she asked, clearing her throat, eager to change the conversation subject.

-"Oh! I was completing and finalizing my last composition. Nothing very interesting," he avoided with an evasive wavering of the hand.

-"No, don't say that!" she contested boldly and vehemently, what she would never have thought to be able. "Your… your musical creations are wonderful and prodigious, of an unparalleled beauty and perfection! You shouldn't speak with contempt or neglect of them!" she stated, holding his penetrating gaze. "I cannot explain it, but your music and your voice always gave me immense comfort and indescribable well-being as if my heart was in harmony with the notes and sounds that I heard… some kind of spiritual communion… a soaring of the soul…"

-"I know what you feel, because I live the same experience," he whispered in a frail and almost overwhelmed voice. "All my life I never thought to experience the emotions that seize me every time I hear you sing… as if finally your voice called me from the gloom, crying that you heard my fears, my torments and my tears… as if you shared my solitude, understand this feeling of nothingness that consumes me from within… I sometimes feel that our hearts beat in unison to the rhythm of a melody that we are the only to perceive," confessed the Ghost pensively, his melancholy eyes wandering in the distance.

Troubled by this sad speech which revealed a rejected, bruised and fragile man; Christine looked at him, perplexed and questioning, during the few seconds he was lost in his thoughts. Who was this man? What a horrible secret and terrible misfortune he hid in the depths of his soul, forcing him to hide in the depths of the earth? Why had he chosen her over another? Her captor seemed to be more than just an illuminated forced to hide in the bottom of the Opera. She felt he was rather a poor soul persecuted, bullied and excluded from the above world by human cruelty and stupidity because of his appearance.

She suddenly realized why she had found his eyes so familiar and fascinating during their first meeting. This weary and distressed look was none other than the same she saw every morning in the reflection of her mirror. This link he had created, strengthened and made grow between them was not a mere and grotesque subterfuge fomented in the sole purpose of luring her, but rather a singular reality that united them. This thought terrified and galvanized her at the same time. She had shared this perfect and privileged relationship only with her father and she would never have imagined that one day she would relive this absolute affinity with another person. Was it possible that such a miracle happen twice in a lifetime?

-"Would you like me to play this piece for you?" he suggested in a voice both hopeful and shy.

She nodded without hesitation, suddenly reassured by his manners and his affable words convincing her to trust him and to not be afraid. He stood up in a long movement imbued with the elegance and slenderness of a cat, and then he led the girl into his room where he brought her near the organ. After approaching a seat for Christine, he sat on the bench in front of his instrument and carefully arranged his score on the wide music rest.

-"Did you built it?" she asked curiously.

-"Yes and no," he explained as he pulled and pressed various levers on the consoles on either side of the keyboard. "It's an old organ that director Poligny had acquired for the Academy, but it was never used. I took it, assembled and improved it to place it in my house. This is an interesting instrument because it combined with some keyboards and pedals every tonalities of an orchestra."

With a familiar and automatic gesture, he brushed his fingers on the ivory keys and produced a flurry of notes that vibrated and tinkled in the room around them. Satisfied with his preparations, Erik took a deep breath, and after a brief pause, his hands laid on the keyboards he stroked gracefully and deftly. The most desolate and heartbreaking sounds that Christine had never heard echoed around her in an anthology of ethereal notes, as if the organ was alive and wept with grief. Dazed and enchanted by this tragic lament, her thoughts fled and her feelings intensified until they dominate every cell of her being. She drifted and swung to the rhythm of the music that flowed through her veins as a salving panacea, capturing her mind and obscuring the outside world. Behind her closed eyelids, a mournful image appeared clearly to her. A lonely and cursed shadow was dragging along the chains of his misery through the gloomy ruins of his abandoned castle, crying out the name of his lost love through the sepulchral walls, his tearful cries echoing in the empty and cold valley from where no response came.

-"Christine, do you feel all right?" called out a soft and deep voice.

She suddenly opened her eyes that she didn't remember having closed and again saw the room and her Professor who watched her anxiously. Where the haunted castle and its sinister master had vanished? Had this scene so clear and accurate been only a dream, an illusion caused by the bewitching charms of music? Yet everything had seemed so real and palpable to the point she could have touch this lonely specter.

-"Oh, forgive me, my Angel, I have never wanted to make you weep," he grieved.

Stroking her fingers on her face, she felt many tears wetting her cheeks, but she had no memory of having shed them. As if by magic, a handkerchief appeared in his hand and he handed it politely. Still troubled by her vision and the tumult of her emotions, she took the piece of cloth with a trembling hand and wiped her cheeks, intently watching this enigmatic man. He was perhaps not a Ghost, nor an Angel, but there was undoubtedly an element of mystery and supernatural about him. What was this power he had over her? How could he evoke in her thoughts those images so powerful and tangible that she forgot reality? What would happen to her if she was unable to protect her mind from his mental invasions which rendered her as docile and vulnerable as a lamb? Would he use this skill to deceive her vigilance and obtain her favors? He had assured her otherwise, but how could she be certain after considering the many months during which he had deliberately lied to her.

-"Excuse me, it's really stupid of me!" she stammered, confused and lost.

-"Don't be embarrassed by your emotions, Christine," he comforted in an affable and compassionate voice. "You don't have to be ashamed in front of me. In this place, there is no one to judge you, criticize you or humiliate you. You're free to be yourself and follow every impulse of your heart. If you want to cry, let your tears flow! If you're happy, laugh with all your joy! There are no rules, no limits, and no constraint in my kingdom where the Music, Magic and Art are the only to reign! Give in without any guilt to your darkest dreams and to the sweet intoxication of all the desires that you have buried and hidden in the depths of your being! Remember that you are at home here, my Angel. Don't be afraid to despise and defy decency and virtue in order to discover the priceless secret living in your soul," he exclaimed, his green eyes blazing with a passionate and sparkling flame while his speech heightened.

Christine's impetuous heart, which had formerly been forced to silence and obedience by the moral codes of the civilized world, began to throb with excitement and euphoria as she listened to his intoxicating and exciting words. She felt that her mind was trying to escape from its envelope of flesh and bone to reach this miraculous state he described with such conviction and fervor. After the interminable and intolerable years of negligence and nonexistence, her heart awoke again to life and light, eager to embrace and conquer the pleasures and temptations which had been forbidden to her. She had lived a so perfect and absolute freedom only with her father when they wandered through the vast lands of the colorful Europe. At that time, they had known no constraints, no boundaries, no rules imposed by civilization, traveling and living free like the wind wild and uncontrollable, making countless meaningful and valuable meetings. The sincerity of friendship, the candor of love and the beauty of the music were the only laws to rule their existence. As far as her memory went back, Christine didn't remember having felt more happy and serene than during these carefree years of Bohemian life.

And then suddenly, she met, hidden under the asphalt of Paris, a strange and unknown man whose speech was similar to what she had heard in her childhood. Doubts assailed her for a split second and she wondered if, ultimately, this Phantom was not really the Angel of Music that her father had promised to send her.

As he left his keyboard to approach her, a meowing arose from a corner of the room, instantly attracting their attention. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw the new strange visitor who had burst into the room in a so intimate and serious moment. Sitting on the purple bedspread a cream cat, spotted with black on the muzzle, paws, ears and tail looked at her curiously with its sparkling blue eyes. A wide shimmering diamond collar adorned its graceful neck.

-"Ah! Here you're at last, little minx!" Erik exclaimed, taking the elegant animal in his arms. "I was seriously beginning to worry! I hope at least that your hunt was successful!"

As if the feline understood the conversation, it let out a satisfied meow and wiggled its little head under the delicate caresses of its master. Erik crossed the few steps that separated him from Christine and knelt on the ground to make the necessary introductions.

-"Christine, here is my furred companion, Ayesha," he announced emphatically, which made her smile. "Ayesha, I present you our guest, Christine Daaé who will remain a few days with us."

Hesitantly, the girl reached out for the animal which curled up in her master arms with a frightened hiss, gazing constantly this unknown woman. Christine promptly withdrew her palm she hid in the folds of her skirt as she frowned and bit her lip with confusion.

-"Don't be afraid! No one will harm you", he assured, but she didn't know whether he was talking to the cat or her.

With slow loving movements, he flattered the thick fur of the cat that purred deeply and relaxed, her eyes fringed with long lashes blinking contentedly. Then he reached out to gently grasp Christine's wrist and guided her inert hand towards the animal's nose. The tiny cat lifted her head and sniffed with vigilance the offered fingers before licking them friendly with her little pink and rough tongue. The soprano released a musical laugh of joy that sounded like the tolling of a bell in the Phantom's ears.

-"There is much to be learned from beasts. They are often misunderstood and depreciated for their wild behavior, although they don't want to hurt anyone and they just need affection and kindness to be tamed," he specified in an enigmatic voice full of insinuations.

Gently sliding her hand on the black muzzle, Christine realized that he spoke as much of the fearful animal than of himself. In his own indirect and wary way, he asked her to exercise patience, compassion and friendship towards him so they can get to know, understand and appreciate each other, instead of relying on appearances and first impressions.

The rumor told that the Phantom was an evil and cruel being, ready to fulfill any mean exaction for his demands, yet the man who stood before her didn't seemed to be such a horrid demon. Undecided, Christine didn't know if she should believe the legends of the Palais Garnier or the sad and pleading words of this lonely and shunned man? Looking up at his face, she stared at his melancholy eyes which seemed to gather all the misery and sadness of the world and she knew what she must do. She chose to trust and believe him as it had always been since the first day they met.