Chapter X.

She was running up and down nervously in the hall. She gasped and her mind was racing, searching for the solution desperately. What to do? What to do? She was home alone with a seriously ill husband and a baby. No neighbors to look after Mahtab for a few hours… Erik made sure to build his home quite away from other houses. She can't leave Erik here alone… he might die while she runs for help. And Mahtab can't be left alone either, she might get injured… Erik can't keep an eye at his daughter as he isn't conscious and can't move to catch her. Poor Mama Valerius would be so needed right now… Sadly she passed away a year after the wedding. She sometimes visited her, but Erik never met her. He said he did not want to scare that poor old lady to death…

She had to take care of the situation herself. She has to make Erik feel better, at least to the level he could be left alone for some time. She ran cold water in a bowl and took a washcloth with her to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Erik did not seem to be awake. His eyes were closed and he was gasping for air. Christine put the cloth in the cold water and placed it on Erik's forehead, but the moment it reached his skin, Erik suddenly shuddered and turned his head away so the cloth fell off. He was trembling with cold and his teeth chattered. He whimpered some meaningless cries and syllables, then opened his eyes. He looked at Christine as he did not understand anything of the world around him. He was wheezing for some moments, then he whispered:

- I told you it burns… my Don Juan… it burns…

- Erik, you are feverish, that is what you feel.

- It burns.

- I want to make you feel better.

- Mother… please…- Erik's voice lost all its power, he could only whisper and his eyes closed again. – Please… give me a kiss… will you?

- Erik…?

- Kiss me… mother… just a little… just one kiss… on my forehead… please…

Christine leaned closer and kissed Erik's hot and sweaty forehead with love and compassion. Erik reopened his eyes, and smiled. – Thank you, mother. – He sighed with relief and fell asleep again.

Christine tried to put the cloth back on his forehead, but it caused him to shiver again, and with a final painful moan, he lost his consciousness. No matter how she slapped him or shook him, he did not even cry out any more.

Christine jumped up and ran out of the room. She knew now that home remedies won't help Erik. She can't make his fever go down with only the cloth and Erik seemed to react to it on another way than he should have. Maybe she is doing more harm to him with it?

She caught Mahtab, and dressed her, she even put a scarf on her to cover her head and face this time, as she decided she will take her as well. She needed to go out to fetch their doctor and if she leaves, Mahtab leaves with her too. But to her surprise, Mahtab did not want to step out of the front door. She was crying, and screaming as she could.

- I don't want! I want Papa! Papa! – She was screaming from the top of her lungs as Christine lifted her from the doorstep where she finally took a seat, and she looked so desperate, so much in panic.

"This is my fault." – Christine thought to herself in guilt. "Maybe she is afraid to be hurt again, just as she got hurt yesterday." She hugged Mahtab, and tried to hush her by stroking her back. They finally could walk out of the garden, and she ran as fast as she could. She was surprised how did she reach downtown Paris so quickly from the suburbs, without even a cab… She was too nervous to think of taking money with her, so she had to run on her feet with Mahtab in her arms. Thoughts were racing in hear head – about Mahtab, Erik, and herself… what could Erik's illness be…? He seemed to be all right the day before… or … well, was he feeling sick when he was massaging his forehead in the salon when he drank that rum? Maybe the rum was for making him warm up, not to settle his nerves, as she imagined? Was he shivering with fever, not rage? And there was another problem still – who will take care of Mahtab while the doctor is at them, examining Erik?

Suddenly she saw a very familiar man on Rue de Rivoli as she was hurrying to the doctor – the Persian! She delightedly approached him from behind.

Of course, how could she forget about him? Monsieur Khan visited them every other week to talk to Erik and play with Mahtab. Erik and him were good friends deep down in their hearts, as Christine noticed, but Erik tried to hide his real feelings for the Persian by constantly playfully picking on him, and the Daroga would do the same to Erik. He liked the little girl, and Mahtab liked him as well. It was a rare occasion that Mahtab accepted a 2stranger" as much as she did the Daroga. He could look after her for some minutes if he would…

- Monsieur Khan, please! – She tried to get his attention. To her relief, the Persian man turned around and cheerfully greeted her.

- Oh, Christine, what a nice surprise! – He exclaimed, but he worriedly walked closer to her as he realized Christine's worry. – What is wrong?

- Oh, Monsieur Khan, I am so worried about Erik… he is ill, and I have to fetch the doctor for him… and there is no one I could ask to look after Mahtab…

- But of course, there is. – He reached out for the tiny girl who started crying again. – Don't worry about us, Madame, we will be fine. Just talk to the doctor and we will go to you together and I stay to play with and care for my little Moonlight.

- Oh, Monsieur… you are so kind to us… - she cried in delight and worry at the same time as she gave Mahtab to Monsieur Khan.

- This is the least I could do. – He nodded modestly as Christine left them together on the streets to go to the doctor's office. – There, there, what is wrong, Mahtab, dear? – The Persian asked the tiny girl who cried more and more. Now not only she could not find her Papa anywhere, but Mama disappeared as well…

- Papa… - She cried and sniffed. – Papa….

- Don't worry my dear, Papa is just tired and needs to sleep a bit.

- Sleep?

- Yes, dear, he sleeps and he will be fine.

- And play?

- Yes he will play with you. – The Daroga walked to a bench and sat down with Mahtab on his lap. – Did Papa teach you this? – He asked and started whistling a Persian folk song.

- No. – Mahtab shook her head.

- No? Tisk – tisk, lazy Papa… do you want me to teach it to you?

- Yes. – She nodded, as her thoughts were slowly guided away from her father.

The Persian sang the song in Farsi and the girl looked at her with her eyes wide open in awe of the new language and the music she heard. She loved that song, and the Persian had to sing it five times in a row to make the child happy. She clapped her tiny hands in joy and smiled.

By the time the Persian finished singing, Christine arrived back with the doctor in the doctor's coach. Doctor Alain Bonsanté was a middle aged man, slightly nearsighted, balding, with a darker complexion and dark hair and eyes. He wore elegant clothes but still looked clumsy – his tie was just hurriedly tied, his coat was unbuttoned and his shoes were dirty. All his clothes were in need of ironing. He was fidgety and forgetful. The Daroga got in the coach with Mahtab, and they could finally go to Erik's home to see what was wrong.

When they arrived, the doctor and Christine headed into the bedroom where they found Erik lying on the floor, next to the bed. Christine gasped in fright and ran to his side to turn him to face her. Erik had his eyes open, but he did not recognize her. He muttered something none of them could understand and then his head fell on his shoulder as he seemed to lose his consciousness again.

Doctor Bonsanté went closer and leaned close to Erik. He knew Erik for 25 years, since he arrived back from Persia, he was used to Erik's skull face, and even when he saw it for the first time, he did not feel disgusted. He examined Erik's face with scientific interest, and would even often compliment Erik's horrid features from a doctor's point of view. Erik wasn't too fond of it, but as he did not want to search for another doctor and he did not think any other person would be as crazily fascinated by his deformity as Bonsanté, he stayed with his first choice.

As the doctor leaned close to him, Christine asked worriedly:

- Is he still alive…? – her voice sounded nearly hysterical, so the doctor found it better if he sent her out of the room for the time of the visit.

- Yes, Madame, but please go out of here. I need peace and calm to examine him.

- Is he… all right here on the ground…?

- Don't worry, I will place him back to the bed, but please leave us.

Christine nervously chew on her lower lip and cracked her fingers in the hall, in front of the bedroom door. She did not dare to leave or even sit down. She tried to put her ear on the door to listen, but could hear nothing… Unbearably long time has passed. Not a word… not a sound… she was staring at the clock on the wall. The hands were moving so slowly… did maybe that clock stop? And maybe so did poor Erik's heart…? What is happening?

Then she finally heard something. She heard Erik sneezing! She had never been so happy about a single sneeze. Then he spoke! He spoke slowly, quietly and with long pauses… but still… he spoke! Erik can speak!

- Erik hates smelling salts… - He stated on a lamentable tone.

- Good morning. – The doctor replied. – I am trying to slap some soul into you for half an hour. How are you feeling?

- Guess… – He sighed, then a cry of pain could be heard: - My wrist, my wrist, you damned leech!

- I have to check your pulse. – A calm voice replied. – So if I touch your wrist, it hurts.

- Yes. And… my elbow, my shoulder, my knee…

- Your joints?

- Yes.

- You have fever, your joints are swollen, red and in pain… does it hurt even if you rest it?

- Today… yes…

- When did it start?

- The fever…. this morning. The pain… the pain… just comes and goes for some weeks…. But today… today… - he stopped talking, it sounded like he fell asleep.

- Erik, what is today? – The doctor demanded a reply.

- What…? - Erik sounded so exhausted.

- What is today?

- Wednesday… or…

- No, I mean what is it with the pain today?

- Oh… it doesn't want to get better.

- Just rest. I am here to make your fever go down. I have to talk to your wife.

- Christine… Christine… - Erik sighed before falling asleep one more time.

The door finally opened and the doctor walked out to the hall. He lifted his finger to his lips to hush Christine before she could cry out in joy or ask something before he could close the door and asked Christine if there was a place in the house where they could talk for some minutes. Christine nodded nervously and led the doctor to the drawing room where they set down in the same chairs she and Erik sat the evening before. As Christine offered the doctor a glass of rum and he politely declined it, she finally took a seat, facing the man.

- What's the matter, doctor…? Is it very serious…?

- I have an idea in mind, but as that illness is rare in Erik's age, I am not sure yet, and I would need to know the answer to a few questions before I could make sure my theory is right. – He folded his hands on his chest.

- Ask me anything. I will answer if I can. – She said softly.

- Did your husband have a sore throat some weeks ago?

- Yes… our daughter is sick with nasal or throat infections a lot and the last one was in January. Both Mahtab and Erik were sick, I think he caught it from the girl.

- How did he cure it?

- The usual way he does it any other time – he drinks a lot of tea, he takes some cough medicine and rests his voice for some days.

- Did he have fever?

- I don't know, he did not mention it, even if he had. He rarely talks to me about his health, if he complains that means he is very ill.

- Well, I think he got used to living alone and that he did not have anyone to complain to. – The doctor scratched his head. – Did he take bed rest?

- No. He doesn't stay in bed with a minor sore throat as he calls it. That is how I knew he was very ill today, the fact he stayed in bed.

- It seems like your husband got a throat infection which did not get totally cured, only disappeared from his throat and went down into his joints. This caused his wrists, knees, elbows, shoulders and ankles to get inflamed, and it is accompanied by a really high fever due to the all joint inflammation. It is called rheumatic fever, but it is an illness usually showing up in people under the age of 40.

- Is it contagious?

- Not really, but the child shouldn't be let near him. Children are very sensitive to this illness. Adults in the same household aren't like to get it.

- And… is it… curable?

- Well… it depends on his immune system and how quickly we can make his fever go away. We know the illness much better than we did 100 years ago, when Mozart died of this.

- Was this Mozart's fatal illness? – Christine screamed. She read enough biographies about Mozart to know what did the doctor mean and what is going to happen to Erik… poor, poor Erik… In her mind she saw Erik lying in bed, unable to move, vomiting, shivering with fever and she was alarmed to the thought she wouldn't be able to help him and had to assist through his dying as Constanze Mozart did to her dear beloved Wolfgang Amadeus.

- Yes, Madame, but as I said, we know more about the problem now. If Erik is strong enough, he will most likely get cured of it. We need to stop the infection before it reaches the heart. At first we have to stop the fever and after we have to cure the inflammation in his body.

- Can you do it…? – She asked hopefully.

- We will try. – He nodded calmly. – Come back to the bedroom with me, I will tell you how to take care of him. Make sure that someone is here with you to help you, or in case you have to send for me urgently. Don't stay here all alone with a young child and an ill husband. –

As they entered the bedroom, Christine called Erik's name, but he did not reply.

- He did speak before. – She said with disappointment.

- That was only temporary, Madame, his mind got cleared to the reaction of smelling salts for some minutes. He is still feverish, if his temperature cools down his mind will clear up again. At first, I have to tell you, this water you wanted to use is way too cold.

- Too cold? What do you mean?

- If you want to stop a fever, you should not use too cold water. Only slightly cooler than his body temperature. If the water is too cold, it will only cause him to shiver. It is very unpleasant for him and it might even raise up his temperature, resulting in even higher fever than he had.

- God! – She gasped. – Did I harm him?

- No, not likely. But please don't do it again. Secondly: with such a high fever this small cloth on the forehead isn't enough. You have to cool his whole body. Either soak a sheet in cooler water and bundle him in it, or put him into a tub of water and run cooler and cooler water to it in every five minutes.

- I will.

- And when he is lifted out of bed, make sure you aren't touching any of the spots that are in pain.

- I will try not to cause any pain for him. – She nodded.

- Good. Please bring me a wet sheet I can use to put on him right now, and change it in every quarter an hour. I will come back in the evening to check how he is.

As he was done covering Erik up in a wet sheet, Erik took a deep sigh and murmured:

- It is so good…

The doctor nodded and left. He promised once more that he will be back in the evening, then Christine took a deep breath and calmed herself with a breathing exercise she learned from Erik. He used to calm her down with it before performances. She headed to the nursery where she heard Monsieur Khan and the child having fun. She stepped in the room and saw the Daroga sitting on the floor, playing with Mahtab's blocks. She was amused by her companion, and giggled a lot. As he noticed Christine, he instantly stood up and bowed his head.

Christine briefly told him what the doctor said, to which the Daroga offered his help without hesitation. Christine gratefully showed him the guest room where he will stay for a time. Erik built a guest bedroom with an adjacent guest bathroom in their home "just because every home has one", as he reasoned it. Christine never understood it, but now she blessed Erik's mastermind for this decision. The guestroom had nice green wallpaper with mostly green and yellow furniture and a huge yellow Persian rug. It was rarely used by anyone, as it was solely built for the purpose that Erik would have a home like everyone else. The furniture contained a single bed, a sofa, a table, a desk in the corner with a chair, and a dresser. Just what a person would need if they stay for a few days. The bathroom was fully equipped with towels, and any other necessities one could need to use it. The Daroga was surprised to see that he did not have to go home to get things for him to be able to stay – he could find everything he needed. He was smiling to the thought. Erik really thought of every little detail when he created a room he did not even intend to use.

- Are you satisfied with your room, or do you need anything else, Monsieur? – Christine asked when the Daroga had a look at the place.

- I am very much so, Christine, I am spoiled. – He smiled. – Thank you.

- No… I thank you. – Christine gave a little sad smile and left the room. The Daroga followed her as he did not want to leave her all alone with her thoughts and fears.

He found her in the kitchen, where she made some coffee for them. She sat down to the kitchen table, warming her cold hands on the coffee cup. Tears were running down her face and she looked up as the Persian entered the kitchen.

- Don't worry, Christine. He will be better soon. I know he will be. He is strong.

- I hope so. I am so worried… God, I nearly forgot to change the sheet on him! – She jumped up.

- Christine, I will take care of it. Please allow me.

- I… would like to take care of him. I don't mind doing so. He is my husband and…

- And you are a woman and should not lift him. That's what a man is for. Please, take care and save your energy. I will take care of Erik.

- I… I will check on my daughter. – she nodded after some pause.

The Daroga returned to the nursery to Christine and the child after some minutes, and carried Christine's untouched coffee with him, and gently handed it to the young woman.

- Drink it before it cools off. – He smiled. – We will going to need it.

- That is for sure. – Christine sighed.

The Persian started to play with Mahtab again ad it was good to see how he likes the young toddler. Christine was surprised that an older Persian man who thought everything through logically and did not really let his emotions take over him was so much like a child if he met Mahtab. Christine wondered if the man had a child one point in his life. Would it be impolite to ask him about it?

- I did. – The Daroga said, just as if he was reading her mind.

- Pardon…? – Christine looked at him with surprise.

- I had a child.

- How did you know I was thinking about this…?

- It was written on your face, dear. – The Daroga laughed.

- So… was it a boy or a girl… if I don't hurt you by asking.

- Much time have passed since that and it doesn't hurt that much anymore. – He told but rather to himself than to Christine. – I had a son. A young and beautiful little son. His name was Ardashir. He was my little treasure.

- What has happened to him?

- He passed away, sadly. At the age of six…

- I am sorry. – Christine bit her lip.

- Oh… don't worry about it. To tell the truth… I am the one who is sorry. And I will ask Erik to forgive me for that. I just realized I never did before.

- What do you mean?

- Erik tried to cure my son when he was dying of diphtheria. When I arrived back to my country with Erik as I took him to Persia from Russia, they sent for me and I was informed that Ardashir fell ill while I was away. Erik heard that my son was ill and asked me if I allowed him to help. I was desperate… so I said yes. Erik was trying so hard to save his life. He always seemed to feel sorry for sick or ill children and tried to help them the best he could. There were children he actually could cure. But sadly… not my son. He said we arrived too late…. And my son died in the end… just as he told me two days before… and you know… as a deperate and sad father who just lost his only treasure… I did what everyone does in that situation… I blamed others. Precisely, I blamed Erik.

- Erik…? Why…?

- I know now that it sounds absurd. But back then I blamed him we lost my son because he told me we arrived too late… and I told him it was his fault we arrived too late. We would have arrived much earlier if we travelled by ship, but he refused to travel by ship. He made us go on land, losing weeks of time.

- Why did he do that? - Christine asked with surprise. – What was that good for?

- Don't you know about it?

- About what?

- He has motion sickness. He is very sick on ships.

- He did not mention that. We didn't need to travel by ship yet.

- He won't if there is a way to avoid it. Well, I know that was nasty of me, but I yelled at him that my son died just because of the fact he was squeamish. I nearly hit him… yet he had nothing to do about the situation and if I owed him something, that was only thanks.

- I am sure you are forgiven. – Christine took his hand. – It was understandable in that situation.

Without another word, the Persian squeezed Christine's hand and bowed his head as tears were forming in his eyes.