Christine wonders how Gustave is doing. She hopes he is alright. The family who takes care of him, the Feriers, have not written of him in some time. Perhaps she should write to them.

''Chrissy?'' Kathleen stops by her, smiles, and hands her a letter. ''For you, lass. I suppose it's what you've been waiting for.'' Christine takes the letter from her, thanks her, and unfolds it to read. As soon as she sees what has been written, she is worried instantly. Gustave, her sweet boy, is sick. And they ask that she send them more money! What is she to do? ''Anything wrong?'' Kathleen questions.

''Oh, no. It is nothing.'' Christine shakes her head, and Kathleen heads off to attend to another customer. What is she to do? Gustave was sick for the past two years. She has done everything she can. First she had cut off her lovely hair, though it'd grown back, wilder and curlier then before. She had sold her mother's locket. Finally, she'd sold her body for her son. There was nothing more to give. She has but half the money to pay the Feriers. Christine knows not what to do.

But wait. The Vicomte could help, if she were to write him a message. But how would she send it to him? She knows not where he lives, after all.

''Kathleen.'' she starts, when she sees her again. ''Do you think you could get a message to the Vicomte?''

''Sure.'' Kathleen smiles, green eyes sparkling. ''My most common customer-Mr Weston. He's the lawyer to the Vicomte. You could give the letter to him the next time he's here, and tell him to give it to the Vicomte.''

Christine considers it. ''It is a good idea. Merci, Kathleen.'' Kathleen bobs her head, and goes off with another customer. Madame Bastian calls her, and Christine guesses a customer wants her. So she smooths out her gown of white cambric with lace insertion at the bodice and a small bustle in back, with softly puffed sleeves. It is pretty, and most importantly, easy to get off. Then she heads over to Madame, and waits for her to introduce her to the customer.

''There you are.'' Madame says. Christine nods and curtsies. When she raises her head, she does not expect to see the Vicomte in front of her.

''How much time do you need, Monsieur?'' Madame Bastian questions. The Vicomte shows quite an interest in this young woman. Perhaps he will make the girl his mistress.

''An hour.'' he answers. He offers his hand to Christine, and they go off into a room. Christine starts to undress, but the Vicomte stops her. ''No. That's not what I came here for. I wish to talk to you.''

Christine looks curiously at him. ''What about?''

''When we first met, I thought that we had met before. But I couldn't be sure. So I asked a detective to look into it. The detective found out that you were from Paris, the same as I. And even more importantly, you had worked in the Opera Populaire, as a dancer.'' Raoul stops, hesitates, and continues. ''When I learned of that, I searched my mind to see when we'd met. Then I remembered. Does the name Meg Giry mean anything to you?''

Christine nods. ''She was my friend, Monsieur. We were children together.''

''Yes, and that is how I remembered. You and Meg had been inseparable. I can still remember all those years ago, Meg chatting with a slim brunette girl with a Swedish accent, because your father had been Swedish.'' Christine nods again in confirmation.

''When I knew who you were, I tried to find out how and when you'd come here. The only thing I knew, was that you had left before the accident of Don Juan Triumphant.'' Raoul states.

''You did find out.'' Christine finishes for him. ''You know about my son.''

''A son?'' Raoul runs a hand through his hair. He had not known that. ''Mademoiselle, I am dreadfully sorry. I know nothing of any child of yours, nothing at all.''

Christine realizes what she has let slip, and a hand flies to her mouth. She pulls out the letter she has received, holds it in her hands and hands it to him. ''Here. Monsieur de Vicomte, I must ask you to see if my son is alright. The family that takes care of him, they say he is sick.''

Raoul holds the letter gravely in his hands. This poor girl has entrusted him with someone who is very important to her, and who she cares a great deal about. He thinks, and it is Meg's voice inside his mind that prompts him to say what he says to Miss Daae. ''Mademoiselle, I shall not only see how your child fares, I shall bring him back to you. It is not right for a child to be away from his mother.''

''Oh, no!'' Christine shakes her head. ''It is not right, not at all! Children should not be raised in a brothel!''

''That is not what I meant.'' Raoul replies. ''I mean to remove you from this place, reunite you and your child, and you will stay at Ravenswood. Please. For Meg's sake.''

Christine looks at him in surprise. Such a kind man he is! He would have made dearest Meg so happy! ''You-you would do that? Thank you.'' She thinks of kissing him, but decides not to.

The Vicomte smiles, and kisses her hand. ''Of course I would. Pack your things.'' He leaves, and Christine twirls around and claps her hands in delight, not noticing the face that her hand burns where he had kissed it.

XXX

Raoul walks off, and when he gets back to Ravenswood, he mounts a horse from the stables, and rides off to go fetch young Gustave.

The Feriers run a nice little tavern, and Raoul ties his horse to the hitching post, then walks in.

It is a busy place, with people laughing and toasting each other, and drinking wine and beer and ale, and all those sorts of things that one finds in a tavern.

Raoul declines the offer made to remove his coat, and asks for the owner.

A slim, middle-aged man strides up to him, and greets him in a heavy French accent, shaking his hand.

''What can we do for you, Monsieur?'' he asks.

''I'd like to inquire about a lad named Gustave Daae.'' Raoul says sternly, and the man frowns.

''Why should you be interested in a boy such as him? I met his mother when she came here; nice girl, pretty, but she seemed a bit-well, you know.'' He makes a motion with his hands, a crude one.

''Well, I'm his father.'' Raoul says. ''His mother and I decided to get married, and I came to fetch him.''

Mr Ferier starts, and Raoul adds, ''You said the boy was sick? I'll be quite happy to pay his medical bills.''

The man calls for his wife, and tells her to fetch the boy. When she returns, the boy is introduced to him, and Raoul kneels down to greet young Gustave.

''Hello, Gustave.''

Gustave looks shyly down at his feet. Raoul lifts the boy's chin up, smiles at him. Tells him, ''I've come to take you to your mother. She wants to see you.''

At the mention of his mother, Gustave smiles.

Raoul stands up, and says, ''I thought Gustave was sick. He looks perfectly healthy to me.''

Mr Ferier shrugs. ''He only just recovered. Care for a drink?''

''Just one, and then we shall be on our way.''

So they sit down at the table, Gustave hanging by Raoul's side, and Mr Ferier talks. He talks a great deal, and says his grandfather and mother were French.

''They were?''

''Yes. Azelma Thenardier, my mother's name was.''

Raoul starts, stares a bit. No, it cannot be. He knows the name well, heard his mother and father's tales of the family. And according to his father, all the good memeber of the family died in the revolution.

''You all right, good sir?''

''No.'' Raoul shakes his head, stands up. ''No.'' And he raises his fist and hits Mr Ferier in the face.

Poor Miss Daae had no idea of their reputation. No idea at all.

Mr Ferier starts. ''Good gracious, sir, do I know you?''

''Yes, your grandfather and mother does. My mother was Cosette, the girl your grandparents mistreated as a child.'' Raoul yanks Mr Ferier to his feet and hits him again, then takes Gustave out of the tavern and helps him onto his horse.

And off they ride towards Ravenswood, and Christine has begun to pack. Kathleen helps her.

''I'll miss you.''

''Thanks, Kathleen. At least I can be with my son, every hour of the day.''

Christine shuts the bag, loops it over her wrist. ''Good luck, Kathleen.''

She leaves, bids goodbye to Madame Bastian. Outside, the Vicomte's carriage awaits. She steps in, the door closes, and she does not look back.

XXX

The Ravenswood Manor is lovely. The coachman helps her out, and she is greeted by the housekeeper, Roxane Roxwell.

''It's wonderful to have another girl in the house.'' she says, smiling.

''Was there no mistress before-''

''Liliana Ravenswood. Died ten years ago. The poor girl.'' Oh, Christine thinks. How sad.

''Did she die in childbirth?''

''No. Fell into the lake and drowned.'' Roxane replies, and shows her to her room. It is different than her room at the brothel.

The room at the brothel was all deep red satin and low, soft lighting, coverlets of brocade and satin.

Here is blue wallpaper adorned in printed pink roses, gentle candlelight, portraits on the wall. It is so beautiful. She lies down on the bed, looks up at the painted, molded ceiling, run through with hints of gold.

The door opens downstairs, the front door, she assumes. Roxane's voice can be heard, and then there are footsteps on the stairs. Christine sits up.

The footsteps come closer, closer-''Gustave?'' Christine starts. ''Gustave!'' she exclaims joyfully, and he comes running into her arms.

''Mama, Mama!''

Christine looks at the Vicomte, who stands behind him. ''Thank you so much. Thank you.'' she utters gratefully.

Such a touching scene, a mother reunited with her child. A scene that truly touches the heart. Meg would be proud of him, he knows. Raoul smiles, shuts the door behind them so they can catch up.