Chapter Fifty
December 10th 1895: Christine
Despite my protests that I had to get Antoinette and Philippe into bed, we stayed at the celebration for quite a while after Raoul and I had returned to it. Everyone had been fast to point out that it would be easy for me to cancel the children's lessons for tomorrow and let them sleep longer than usual. Finally, Antoinette had hissed at me to change the subject. Apparently, the fact that she had a private teacher was very embarrassing to her in front of her friends.
I tried my best to focus on the topics of our conversation, but it was difficult. Instead of listening, I kept being confronted with images of what had happened between Erik, Raoul and me. The men's incredulous faces, Raoul's soft lips and the sound of the door slamming shut danced in front of my mind's eye, like a parody of the chorus girls' performance.
Every now and then, Meg threw me a concerned glance. She knew what had happened. I had told her hastily, when we had left the hall under the pretence of going to the bathroom. I wasn't sure what she thought about the whole story, for there had been no time to listen to her opinion before we had gone back to the celebration.
Of course, she hadn't been able to answer my most pressing question either: What was I to do about Erik? For a while, I had toyed with the idea of going to him and talking about it all. I was sure that Mme.Giry could have told me where Marcella lived, and Erik couldn't be far from there. But then, how could I know whether he wanted to talk to me? Given what I had done, I probably was the last person he felt like seeing.
I figured it was the best to give him a little time to think it all over. If he wanted to talk to me, he knew where to find me. And if he didn't, I could as well go to him in a few days' time or accompany Philippe to the opera when he went there for his lessons.
I could only hope he'd find it in himself to forgive me. I knew I had done wrong, just when I had been so determined to do everything right. The beginning had been acceptable, but the rest... I shuddered to think about it. I should have continued a sensible conversation about Clarille. Instead, I had found myself in a completely non-sensible activity and forgotten that Erik was there.
Why hadn't he said anything, though? Why hadn't he pulled me away from Raoul? It was not like Erik to simply leave the room without a word. Or was it? Perhaps he had changed in the years we had not seen each other. Perhaps the new Erik didn't speak his mind anymore. I knew so little about him these days.
When I wasn't thinking about Erik, I watched Raoul out of the corner of my eye. Philippe had crawled into my arms a while ago, which made it easy for me to look at Raoul over the top of the boy's head without anyone noticing what I was doing. Sometimes, I caught him looking at me, and then we both blushed and turned away. It was a strange thing that to most people, nothing seemed to have changed between us. Only Meg, Raoul and I knew the truth. So much had changed.
The problem was that I was not sure into which direction it had all changed. Was it better now? Or maybe worse? I suddenly wished I hadn't refused to talk to Raoul about it. But then, I had been so
worried about Erik at the time that a sensible conversation about any other subject wouldn't have been possible anyway.
I looked over at Cecile, who was laughing loudly, and I wondered what was truly going on between her and Raoul. I hadn't failed to notice that she hadn't even called him by his first name. During our moment of intimacy, I felt as if I could have asked Raoul anything, even about such delicate matters, but now that the moment had passed, all that was left for me to do was observe them together and draw my own conclusions.
Cecile certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. She was chatting with some of the chorus girls, all of whom were giggling. Raoul stood next to her. He was smiling, but his smile was a little strained. He had always despised girls who giggled all the time, with the exception of his own daughter.
But then, maybe he was willing to overlook such behaviour in favour of other qualities. Cecile was younger than me, but was she prettier? I couldn't tell for sure. My opinion was too influenced by my urgent wish that he should not find her pretty.
I was so immersed in my pondering that I nearly didn't hear Meg addressing me.
"It is time for us to leave," she said. "What do you think?"
"You're right," I replied.
It was only now that I noticed how heavy Philippe had grown in my arms. He was fast asleep. Jean took him over, smiling kindly. The boy stirred, but did not wake up. It had been a long day for him. Meg and Jean left, telling me they'd check whether the coach was already there.
Antoinette bid farewell to her friends, and Cecile did the same. Raoul and I suddenly found ourselves standing in front of each other, quite undisturbed by anyone else.
"Well... goodbye," he muttered, giving me a shy smile.
"Goodbye," I echoed, at a loss for what else to say or to do.
We stood there for a few moments, gazing at each other. The growing tension was almost palpable.
Then, at exactly the same moment, we both moved forwards and kissed each other's cheeks softly. Compared to what we had done before, it was not much, but it meant a lot to me.
"Will we see each other again?" he asked gently. "To talk, I mean."
"Of course," I answered. "There is a lot to talk about."
"Yes," he agreed.
There was no time for a longer farewell. Jean came back and announced that the coach was ready, and I left the hall with him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cecile seizing Raoul's arm once more. I felt nothing but a fairly small pang of jealousy. The things that had happened between him and me had been so much better, and no one could take the memory away from me.
On the way back, with the sleeping Philippe next to me, I found it very difficult to keep my eyes open. I felt as if the evening had gone on for days and days. So many things had happened, good things and bad things, strange things and things I didn't have a name for at all...
When we arrived at my home, Meg had to shake my shoulder in order to make me wake up properly. I wanted to carry Philippe inside, but Jean insisted on doing it himself. Antoinette followed them. Even she looked sleepy now. We barely made it up the stairs. I said goodbye to Meg and Jean and thanked them for everything.
Once they had left, I brought the children to their rooms and wished them a good night in a sleepy voice. I couldn't recall the last time I had been so exhausted. I supposed it had something to do with the two glasses of champagne I had drunk. I wasn't used to drinking alcohol, and I hadn't eaten much all day.
I got undressed with clumsy fingers and sank into my bed, feeling vaguely grateful that we had arranged for Clarille to spend the night at Meg's home. She wouldn't have liked being dragged out of bed this late at night. I'd fetch her tomorrow morning, when I'd hopefully be less exhausted.
The moment my head hit the pillow, I fell into a fitful sleep, mingled with peculiar dreams.
I was being kissed by Raoul, who turned into Erik, who turned back into Raoul. I tried to make them stop changing, but they wouldn't.
Then I saw Clarille lying in her bed. Yet as I leaned down to look at her properly, her face began to change. A white mask appeared out of nowhere on the right side of her face. The hair on the left side of her head turned blond, and the colour of her left eye changed to blue.
And then she spoke to me, in an eerie deep voice.
"Are you content now, Maman?" she asked with a cruel laugh.
She seized me by the shoulders and banged my head against the side of her bed, again and again. I screamed to make her stop, but she went on and on.
I woke up with a start. It took me a moment to realise that the hammering was not part of the dream at all. It came from outside. And now I heard a voice, too.
"Christine! Open up! Christine!" it called.
Its urgency sent a shiver of foreboding down my spine. I jumped out of bed and switched on the light. As I ran to the door, hastily pulling on my dressing gown, I threw a glance at the clock. It was well past midnight. I hadn't slept as long as two hours.
I hurried down the stairs as quickly and quietly as I could, anxious not to wake up anyone else. Drowsiness and haste, it turned out, were a bad combination. My fingers shook so badly that I hardly managed to turn the key in the lock.
"I'm right there," I hissed, eager for the noise to stop. It made my head hurt.
At last, I opened the door. Meg was standing outside, still in her splendid evening gown. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was panting.
"Christine..." she said, gasping for breath. "I... I don't know what happened... or how... Clarille... she's gone!"
