10: New Knowledge

Erik summoned Madeleine from her temporary hiding-place, and they both returned to the refuge. When he gave her the knitting bag, she thanked him without being too effusive. She was more concerned with the injury to his head, still covered by her hasty bandage from yesterday, a strip torn from her petticoat. At first inclined to ignore it as unimportant, when he realised that he had bled through the bandage which was now sticking to his skin, he was more willing to sit quietly and let her soak it away with warm water. As she worked patiently at it, she asked him what else he had salvaged from the house, and he explained about the disguise materials.

"I know about your shaped mask and the wig." She gestured to her own face.

He raised his eyebrows. "How do you know about that? I have not worn them since we came here. Oh… I suppose Christine told you."

"No, it was before she came. You left them on your bedside table. I wondered what they were."

"I remember. I had forgotten to put them away. But I thought that you had not noticed. They did not appear disturbed."

"I put them back carefully." She detached the last of the bandage from his head, dabbed the water from the swollen area, and left it to dry. "You said yourself... I am a woman, and I can be curious. I broke no rules. Tidying your bedroom was my proper work."

"Well, at any rate, you know what it is that I must conceal, if I would not be hunted like an animal. Or... do you know enough about faces, to know how malformed mine is?"

"As a child, I would often ask people I met if I might touch their face, to know what they were like. In the main, they allowed it. Ladies would explain details of their costume. People helped me to understand the world. As I grew older, I found it better not to ask. Children are more tolerated." She reached a hand towards him. "Would you... You know I touched you, when I brought you here unconscious. But I was less concerned with how you looked, than with whether you would die. May I look at you again, in my own way?"

He sighed. "Yes, if you must. Yesterday, my plan to seize… my plans went awry. In the confusion, I was unmasked on stage, in front of hundreds of people. What does one more matter?"

He took her hands and placed them on his cheeks. Gently she stroked his skull-face, frowning slightly in concentration. Eventually he asked, "Well – what do you think?"

"I think… that for you to allow me this freedom… shows great trust, a trust which honours me. I think that… for anyone to unmask you, expose your face to view, without your consent… must be an unspeakable violation."

He paused before answering. "It has happened, more than once. And yes, violated is how I felt. Yet I hesitate to use the word to you, when I think of the physical assault that you suffered before we met."

"We shall not play a childish game of 'my bruise is bigger than your bruise.' We both know what it is to be hurt."

"Well then… what do you think of my face, now that your hands have learned it so well?"

"I think it is sad. Something went wrong in the making of you, just as something went wrong in the making of me, to make my eyes useless. Now I understand why you wear the mask. But to avoid the censure of the world… If you were seen in the mask, and then without it, then for a while you should find some different way to change your appearance." Her voice was dispassionate, assessing without judging. "This must have been a great burden, and you must be very strong in all ways, to have survived."

Erik felt a kind of fascination. His face had always been a blight on him, a nightmare to others, something to be cursed and hidden away. Madeleine saw it as a simple, practical problem to be dealt with, the way she dealt with her own blindness.

Again she traced the outline of his lips. "Yes, difficult to disguise," she murmured.

"Indeed. Not a mouth anyone would choose to kiss," he replied bitterly, with the unspoken thought, unless for a great reward.

But Madeleine smiled. "Oh, that sounds like a childhood dare. I never could resist those." To Erik's utter astonishment, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, a gentle and warm caress. "You see?" she went on calmly. "Not difficult at all. But as to disguise... If you have wigs, do you have false beards? A full beard and heavy moustache would cover much of the strangeness."

"But not all."

"Tinted spectacles… and a birthmark, perhaps? I have been told of birthmarks. Part of the skin is the wrong colour. I imagine it as if... as if I tore a silk dress, and patched it with sackcloth, or leather. It would be simply wrong."

"Yes, a fair comparison. I shall think along those lines. Thank you, Madeleine. A fresh perspective is helpful. You may leave the graze on my head; it will heal well enough now."

She tidied away the bowl and sponge she had used, remarking, "It is so unfair that they should come hunting you like that, just because they had seen your face."

"They did not become really angry until they found Fonta's body."

There was a long silence from Madeleine, and she slowly turned to face him. "What...?" she whispered.

"Oh, you did not know? You seem to find out everything. I told you about Fonta, the leading tenor. He got in my way, and I had to remove him."

Madeleine groped to a chair, and slumped into it, her face bloodless. "Could you not have... imprisoned him somewhere, bound him...?"

"But that takes time, and time was precious. Besides, have you not heard the old saying, 'Dead men tell no tales'? Why so stricken, Madeleine? He was unimportant. He did not matter."

"He mattered to himself. To his family and friends." She seemed to find speech difficult. "Well... I have no family or friends. If ever I am in your way, you can be assured that I matter even less than Fonta."

"Madeleine, that is unkind! I have no wish to be rid of you. And if we have to part, I shall make sure to place you somewhere safe."

"And going to this safe place, shall I trip over the bodies of others who were in your way?"

"You're talking nonsense – enough! I am going out now, to patrol the building. There has been no disturbance; you should be safe enough here. If you decide to leave, you know the way. Oh, and if you leave, you will need some money." He slammed a handful of coins on the table, making Madeleine jump at the noise. "If you stay, go to bed. Perhaps you will make more sense in the morning."

Erik strode off down the passage with less than his usual care. Stupid girl! To make such a fuss over a nobody like Fonta. Just as well she did not know more of his history… He had thought she understood, being herself an outsider. Because of his accursed face, the whole world was his enemy. The world gave him nothing, and he owed it nothing. He would make his own way, and the rest could stand aside, or beware!

He slipped around the auditorium and under the stage, paying more attention now, but the place was deserted and silent, with perhaps a single watchman sleeping in some remote corner. In the orchestra pit, some sheets of music had been left scattered in the confusion. The smaller instruments had been taken away, the larger ones remained. Did the mob think that their ghost could be driven away so easily? Perhaps he should teach them otherwise. Moving to the timpani, he picked up the sticks and held them poised. A thunderous roll should wake things up… but he thought better of it, put down the sticks and moved quietly away. No sense in stirring up more trouble.

Were there other things that he should think twice about? He had always blamed all his misfortunes on his face. Well, tonight, Madeleine had learned his face, almost better than he knew it himself, with no fear, no horror, just friendly interest. She had even kissed him, as though it were a game, pleasant enough but unimportant. But when she learned of the killing… then she recoiled from him with sick revulsion. Not his appearance but his deeds condemned him. Christine… Christine had said almost the same, that his warped soul mattered more than his face. And she had kissed him too, but that was understandable, that was the promise she was willing to make, to buy her lover's life. Perhaps he should not have let her go… But what he wanted was for her to return his love, and he knew now that that was impossible. Mere possession of her body could never satisfy his burning need. Nothing could.

Wearily, Erik returned to the refuge, wondering if Madeleine would have fled from him. No, she was there, in bed and pretending to sleep. He had intended, hours ago, to massage her back again, and employ some tricks he knew to help her sleep. That would not happen now. She would never relax under his hands after what had been said. Her strained back would have to heal in its own time. But she had left one candle alight for him, and he wondered if it was an offer of truce. Morning would tell.

O-O-O

Madeleine rose first and began to prepare their breakfast, setting two places at the table while Erik dressed. But she was unusually clumsy, spilling things or knocking them over. When she dropped a cup to smash on the floor, she gasped and stood still, clasping her hands tightly together.

"Madeleine…" Erik stood close in front of her, and laid a gentle hand on her arm. "I do not like to see you so afraid of me. I am your safe haven, as always."

"I am not… not afraid of you, Erik, not for myself. Afraid perhaps of things you might do, afraid for you if you continue on this path. You have always been so good to me, and I never imagined that, to others…"

"Ah. I begin to see. You thought of me as some martyred saint, bravely bearing my suffering. Now you find that your idol has feet of clay indeed, and it shocks you. But Madeleine, the world is my enemy, with very, very few exceptions. Let the others look out for themselves. Their law does not protect me – why should I be bound by it?"

"But Fonta – a harmless singer. Surely he was no threat to you. To kill such a man just because he was in your way… that is not only a crime, it is unjust. I know injustice has been heaped upon you, and if you took revenge on the perpetrators, I could understand. But to slaughter the weak, when you are so strong… I thought you more of a man than that."

A blush tinted Erik's pale cheeks, and he was glad that she could not see it. "Well, it is done. Many things were done that day, that I might do differently now, but we get no second chances. But you, Madeleine. What will you do now? Soon I will leave this place and go elsewhere. If you wish to come with me, you could be useful to me, in more ways than just as a maid. If you do not, then I promise I will find a safe home for you. Come with me willingly, or not at all."

Madeleine bowed her head in thought, for a long time. Then she straightened up, and clasped Erik's hand in both her own. "The world is not perfect, nor I, nor you. We must go on. While I can be of use, I will stay with you."

O-O-O

They spent the day together in the refuge, Madeleine knitting, Erik reading, or writing letters. Madeleine wondered how she could have been so impudent as to kiss him yesterday. But his words had been such an opening… she could not resist the temptation. At any rate, that was an honest kiss, not like the stolen one when he lay unconscious. And… he was undoubtedly surprised by it, but not repelled. She had once thought herself soiled beyond redemption by what had happened in her past, and she had believed that he thought so, too. Perhaps, after all, time could wash away the contamination.

When her thoughts returned from yesterday to the present, Madeleine noticed something strange. Usually, when Erik was engaged in a quiet task, he would hum, or sing softly to himself, or perhaps his fingers would tap out some intricate rhythm on the table. Today, she heard none of that, nor had she since they were in the refuge. Once she herself, absent-mindedly, began to hum the little melody he had written for her. He said immediately, "Madeleine, would you stop that, please." The words had no anger or stress, but they compelled obedience. Madeleine was worried then. She knew that giving up Christine had torn the heart out of him, however much he tried to hide that from himself and from her. But surely it could not have torn the music out of him? If that were so, what reason would he have to go on living?

When darkness veiled the world outside, he went out on an errand. Returning after a short while, he seemed satisfied.

"I have put matters in train. There is an apartment which I rent, as a safe retreat. It has been empty for a while, but I have sent Jacques to open it and provision it. This time tomorrow, we can remove there, and be a little less confined than here. I shall make one more trip to my house by the lake, to collect a few things. If there is anything in your room which you want, I shall get that too, but remember that I have enough money to replace what is left behind, so we need not be burdened with commonplace possessions. Once we go, I do not expect to return here, at least not for a long time."

"It is almost magical, the way you arrange matters. People appear, and do your bidding. You conjure homes out of nowhere."

"Ah, but the magic wand is money. Money is power. When I journeyed in the East, I… invented toys for people. Expensive toys, for powerful people." He paused. "Sometimes, unpleasant toys, for unpleasant people. But I was always well paid, and I wasted none of it. When I came back to France, I lodged my money in banks, in safe investments, some in cash, hidden here and there. And I have added to my fortune since then. I can buy what I need, I can hire people to run my errands. I can threaten my agents with dire retribution if they betray me. But there are times when it would be useful to have someone more trustworthy to conduct business on my behalf. This is what I had in mind for you. We could get you a stylish walking-dress and accoutrements, present you as a lady of a well-to-do family; perhaps wife or daughter to a banker, a doctor, something of that sort. I would hire a maid – no, better, a footman – to escort you and be your eyes. For transactions which must be done in daylight, face-to-face, you could represent me. Would you do that?"

"Gladly, to the best of my ability. Remember that I have little experience of business matters."

"Yes. I have no specific tasks in mind for now, but I can recall occasions when someone like you could have been very useful. We shall see what transpires."

O-O-O O-O-O