Education of the Heart

Remorse

Erik sank into a deep depression after the confrontation with Madame Buquet. But this time he did open up to Dr. Benevole and spoke of what he was thinking now. At first he just tried to justify his murder, but try as he might, he did not find any excuse he himself could accept. He could not even say that the woman had treated him badly or with disgust when she had seen his face, she had done nothing and he remembered all to well what it was like to be a child in the streets of a cruel city.

It was a lovely sunny morning in late August. Dr. Benevole still insisted that Erik had to share the table with everyone else and needed a daily structure that resembled that of a normal man working each day, especially because it was difficult for Erik to adjust to any sort of regularity and and rules. They sat at breakfast, most men were in good spirits for nothing bad had happened in weeks, only Erik was staring at his cup of coffee that was cold by now and moved his food around on his plate without eating.

"It is unjust," he suddenly blurted out, "So damned unjust!"

"What is unjust?" Dr. Benevole asked, surprised by that sudden outburst.

Erik jumped to his feet and started pacing the room, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke. "This! All of this! It is despicable unjust! I sleep in a warm bed each night, I eat my fill each day, I have a piano and a library at my disposal and I am cared for by doctors. And they... they have nothing. No food, no shelter, no hope for a better future. They are in the gutter and the only change in their lives will be that they move from the gutter to prison and back to the gutter. Why do you care for me? Why do you spend so much money for my treatment? I am a murderer - they are innocent. Why does no one care about them? Why are they left alone and ignored by everyone? Why isn't there one person who cares for the victims?"

Dr. Benevole and the supervising doctor were speechless. They had expected everything, but not that. But very soon Dr. Benevole decided that this was an opportunity he could not allow to pass. "If you feel like that, why don't you do something for them?" he suggested, pointing at Erik, "After all, you caused their misery in the first place, so it would only be fair if you try to help them now."

Erik stopped pacing and looked at the doctor bewildered. It had never come to his mind that he could do anything for them. But the doctor's words made sense. He should do something, if no one else did.

"I would like to give them money," he said, talking more to himself than to anyone else, "So they can rent a flat and buy food and go to school. But... I have nothing right now. You wouldn't allow me to return to the opera and get my purse, would you?"

"Certainly not!" Dr. Benevole exclaimed.

Erik gave a sigh. "Then it seems I need a job. I am allowed to work, isn't it?"

The supervising doctor shrugged: "We planned this much later in your therapy, but if it is your own wish we can ask Clemenceau for permission."

"Why would I need his permission?" Erik asked confused.

"Because technically you are a prisoner. If you want to go to work you need a permission from the magistrate," the supervising doctor explained, "And you need our statement that you are not dangerous, plus you will have to report to us regularly."

Erik nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, that is a very good idea."

"You have to know that since you are a prisoner it will be very hard to find any job at all for you," Dr. Benevole warned him, "You will have to accept whatever they offer you. It might be degrading, disgusting work, surely nothing adequate to your intelligence and skills."

"Like working in the sewers?" Erik answered, "I would do that."


Dr. Benevole traveled to Paris to report to Clemenceau that they finally made a breakthrough and hoped to test Erik's ability to earn his livelihood with honest work. Clemenceau was skeptical. "Your last report stated that he felt he was above human law," he stated, "What makes you think he changed his mind?"

"He no longer sees himself as the victim but accepted that he is guilty and shows remorse," Dr. Benevole told him, "He genuinely wishes to help the widow Buquet and her children."

"Does he know the eldest boy serves a sentence for theft and is going to be released in a few weeks?"

"Yes, he does, and he wants to earn money so he can provide a home and food for them, to get them out of the gutter."

"Are you sure this is not a trick to escape?" Clemenceau asked.

Dr. Benevole laughed: "Escape? No. Do you honestly think we could have held him against his will? He outsmarted all of us several times. If he wanted to run he would have done so long ago."

"I trust your professional opinion," Clemenceau answered and the doctor felt very uncomfortable now, "There is a business enterprise which hires criminals who served their time and mentally ill people. He can work as garbage collector. They always are short of drivers for the dust carts."

"He won't like that," the doctor sighed.

"Tell him he can be driver of a dust cart or nothing," Clemenceau answered, "And make sure he understands that if he commits the tiniest moral obliquity, he loses all of his privileges and goes to prison to stand trial for all of his crimes."


"Driver of a garbage cart in Paris?" Erik's temper flared, "Does this stuffed-up..." He took a deep breath and forced himself to unclench his hands, trying to control himself.

"You mustn't forget this is not over and done with. Technically you are a prisoner. That you are allowed to roam the streets and have a job at all is highly unusual."

"But if you declare me cured one day, then I can go and find another job?"

"Of course, then you will be a free man."

Erik took a deep breath and looked out of the window. It was late August and soon autumn would come with rain and coldness. "I accept. But I need your help - how did you find Madame Buquet? I need to give her the money somehow."

"She visits her son each week in prison."


Dr. Benevole decided to take Erik to Paris himself where Clemenceau waited for them. Erik was not happy that he had to wear normal work cloths and boots. He could not wear a wig so he used a brown cap. It was humiliating to be led by these two men to the owner of the garbage collection service. That man was a small, wiry man who looked a bit like a skinny wolf. He wore thick glasses.

He got up to greet Clemenceau friendly. "I understand from your note that you have a man who's willing to work as a driver?" he said and Clemenceau pointed to Erik who tried not to let his pride get in his way now.

"I'm Gontier," the wiry man said and held out his hand.

"Erik Morriere," Erik answered and reluctantly shook hands.

"I need to see if you can really control a dust cart," Gontier said and showed them the areal. It was a rather large building next to the dumping grounds, the smell from the dumping grounds was everywhere. There were stables for the horses, the hardstanding for the carts, a building for the office and the flat of the owner, outdoor-toilets and a faucet to fetch water.

In the stable were four large horses, all of them heavy horses, one was a percheron horse and two were larger mixed-breeds and empty boxes for the horses were currently pulling carts. The largest horse was gelding, a shire horse with nearly two meters hands high. Erik stared at the gelding, this was the largest horse he had ever seen. "This is Thunder. He's the strongest horse but not easy to handle," Gontier warned.

"I'll give it a try," Erik said. He carefully approached the horse. No fast movements, nothing that would alarm the giant spotted horse. He led the horse gently out of its box and to the backyard where he tied him to a column. Then he went to the carts and pulled one of them towards the horse, which was not easy for the cart was heavy, but he managed to do it and finally he managed to hitch up Thunder.

"First test passed," Gontier informed Clemenceau.

Erik climbed on the driver's seat and took the reins. He drove the cart a few rounds in the rather large backyard, sometimes even moving it backwards just to show he could do even that.

"Not bad," Gontier decided, "You have the job. Do you have a room somewhere or do you need a place to stay for the night?"

Erik turned towards Clemenceau and Benevole. He did not know if he would have to spend the night at some place like a prison or a hospital. "Is he up to that?" Clemenceau asked the doctor.

"I'm not sure," the doctor answered, "I'd prefer to have him in a hospital."

"Don't worry, I have a bed for you. You see, I provide rooms for my workers, of course the rent is deducted from your payment, if you care to have a look? I have a room for mentally sick men."

Dr. Benevole was about to call the whole idea off, but Gontier led them to a room and opened the door. "Meet your co-workers," he said.

Erik stared at the tree men that sat on their beds in the small room. It was a rather small room with two beds, two men had to share a bed, and a table with four chairs. There was a small wood-burning stove. Nothing else. The tree men were small and a bit too thick, their eyes were almond-shaped. They were Mongoloids.

"This is Erik, your new driver. He's the boss so you do as he says, understood?" Gontier told them. The three men nodded and got up, approaching Erik who stood stock-still and had no idea what he could do now. He had never had much contact with people whose mental capacity was rather small and Mongoloids were said to be stupid.

One of them pointed to his mask. "What?" he asked.

"Don't touch it!" Erik pushed him away roughly, "I don't want anyone to see my face." He looked at the three men and noticed that they had not understood what he said. He decided to try in mono-syllabic sentences. "Hurt. No touch!"

One of them came to him and hugged him. Erik was too shocked to react in any way. "Mama say with hug hurt less," the Mongoloid man said and suddenly the three of them tried to hug him and kiss his mask.

"Are you sure he's up to this?" Clemenceau asked, "After all, we know his criminal record. He's still mentally instable."

"No, definitely not. This is nothing we can risk," Dr. Benevole decided, "Erik? We have to find something else."

Erik looked at the three men who were trying to touch him and comfort him. He took off his cap and reached for his cap, never taking his eyes off them. Then he removed the mask. They did not show disgust or fear, they smiled at him and edged even closer, one laid his hand on Erik's deformed cheek. "Better with hug," the Mongoloid man said.

"I don't want to try anything else," Erik decided, his voice shaking as tears welled up in his mismatched eyes, "I already like my co-workers."


Two weeks later Madame Buquet came from her weekly visit to her son, she knew the following week she would be allowed to take him home - even if there was no home they could go to. Suddenly she saw a man wearing a mask. The Phantom! Had he escaped? But if he was on the run, would he dare to come near a prison?

"Madame Buquet?" Erik said and took off his cap, twisting it in his hands like a shy boy. He was trembling despite the warm weather and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Madame, please, last time you wanted me to hear what you had to say. Now I beg for the same favour. Please, just listen to me," he sounded like a frightened child. Madame Buquet nodded. "Madame, I know there can be no forgiveness for what I have done. But I am able to ease your misery a little bit." He reached into his pocket and took out a bank note and some coins and held them out to her. "Next week I can give you more, I promise," he said.

She looked at his hand and the money, but she did not take it. "I don't need your money," she said icily, "I don't want it."

"Please," Erik tried again, "I need to do this. Do not worry, it is not stolen."

"No."

"You need a place to stay and you need food and... shoes. Soon it will be autumn and then winter. Your children need shelter," Erik pleaded with her, "I understand that you want nothing from me - but please take it for your children. Send them to school again, if possible. Please. I can't give you your husband back, but I can provide for you and your children. Please, let me do this."

She took the money, saying: "I would gladly refuse but as a mother I have to do what's best for my children."

Erik handed her a small piece of paper where he had taken down where he was living now. "Next Saturday I get the next payment. Let me know where you live so I can send it to you."

"No. You will not send it. You will come yourself," she said, "I want you to see my children's sad eyes each time so you never forget that day you murdered my poor beloved Joseph."

"Yes, Madame," Erik answered. He was not able to deny her anything right now, merely looking at her all too slim body in that ragged and dirty dress was painful.

When she left he turned to Dr. Benevole, who had stood aside watching them. "I'm no longer sure I can do this," Erik mumbled, "It is too painful."

Dr. Benevole placed his hand on Erik's shoulder. "I told you it would be painful. But it is the right way. What you are feeling is the natural remorse for your crime, that is a very good sign. You are actually recovering and it will be a very long and painful way until I can declare you cured. So it is settled - every Sunday afternoon you report to me. Gontier and Clemenceau will keep an eye on you."

"I know. Try something stupid and I face trial and the Guillotine, I understand. Don't worry, I can't afford to risk that right now. I can't let them down."

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I'm not sure if I can update that regularly in the next weeks. Maybe it will be just one chapter a week. I beg your indulgence.

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