The pain was coming harder now, and Christine struggled not to cry
out, as her gut twisted inside her. Raoul had called for the docteur, he
would be here soon, Raoul had promised, he would be here and he would take
care of everything. Everything? She choked on bitter, humorless laughter.
Oh, he had taken care of everything all right.... She stared numbly down at
the blood between her legs, almost gushing again as it had earlier... The
baby... Oh, Raoul, she thought, unable to take her eyes off the blood which
still flowed hot and sticky between her legs... Oh, Raoul, you bastard...
The baby! Why the baby?! Tears streamed down her face as she glanced up at
the approach of her husband.
"Christine.... Christine..." The voice seemed oddly far away, and for just an instant she was back at the Populaire, Erik was taking her hand, guiding her, for the first time, down into his darkened home... Raoul was pounding at the door, trying to get in, but Erik had locked it. He had called her name then, too, but he hadn't hurt her then, either... Erik had never hurt her; Erik had frightened her, mocked her, and been as strict and demanding a voice teacher as any Master, but he had never hurt her. Why, he hadn't even touched her! Erik... A gentle slap across the face brought her back to the present, and her eyes focused on the worried, troubled expression of le Vicomte de Chagny. "Christine... I'm sorry, I had to do that... You were mumbling incoherently, I thought... I thought you were going mad!"
Heated anger and anguish caused her words, which snapped deceivingly softly up to the man. "Oh, that? You mean the slap? What about everything else, Raoul?" Despair overtook her again, and she began to rock, sobbing, trying to comfort the baby that was no longer there. "The baby.... Gods, Raoul, why the baby?" Perhaps she was going mad...
"My love, forgive me... I... I went to far... I was angry, drunk... I couldn't stop myself..." Again, came the apologies, as he went down on his knees to beg her forgiveness. The worst part about it, Christine thought miserably to herself, is he believes that he is sincere, and he believes so will my forgiveness be. "I'm so sorry, Christine... But... the docteur will be here soon, and he'll take care of everything... You'll be all right, you will, you'll see... And... and we can have another baby... Yes, a little boy or a little girl, wouldn't you like that? Oh, Christine..." He pressed a shaking hand over hers.
"Raoul..." She moaned, then gave it all up to the terrible agony that had been her unborn child.
A knock resounded at the door. The doctor had arrived.
Just before Raoul got up to let him in, he whispered. "Christine, you mustn't tell him that I did this... You must say ... you must say..." He hesitated as he thought for an appropriate lie. "You must say that you fell! Yes, you fell, and you hit your stomach hard. Too hard, and this happened... Remember, Christine, they won't believe you over me, and that's what I shall tell them... All right, my love, I'll let in the docteur..."
Christine simply sat, shaking and numb, where she was, knowing the truth of Raoul's words, and knowing that he would do so much worse if she tried to tell the docteur what had really happened.
Charles Brynner was an Englishman, who had arrived some twenty years ago in Paris, and had become Christine's family doctor ever since. He'd known her since she was a child, knew every tear and smile, and had a sort of fatherly doting for her since she'd won his heart by singing for him at the age of three. Never had he met a more innocent, soft, child-at-heart... never had he met so poor a liar. He knew very well what had happened, but dared not say a thing, lest he upset the owner of the maison. He didn't fear Raoul; even at age 67, with his hair graying, and his vision beginning to recede from time's force, he was still strong and active, but he feared very much for Christine. So, as he bent down to her pale, bloody form, he wasn't slow to inject the pain killers that may have been a bit dangerous to chance on her considering her blood loss, but knowing that she needed them more than almost anything right now.
He kept his voice loud enough for Raoul to hear him when he asked her how it had happened, but Christine's voice had come out soft, and weak.
"I... I must have fallen, Dr. Brynner. I must have fallen and... and injured myself... Oh, the baby..." She began to cry, and his heart ached to comfort her, but knew he dared not.
"There, there now..." He murmured, after he'd disposed of the syringe and returned to her. His warm accent soothing her somehow, as it always had a child. "I know, Christine... Shhh.... Hush, now..."
At last she fell silent, weeping into his arms... He wanted to kill that man.
"Christine.... Christine..." The voice seemed oddly far away, and for just an instant she was back at the Populaire, Erik was taking her hand, guiding her, for the first time, down into his darkened home... Raoul was pounding at the door, trying to get in, but Erik had locked it. He had called her name then, too, but he hadn't hurt her then, either... Erik had never hurt her; Erik had frightened her, mocked her, and been as strict and demanding a voice teacher as any Master, but he had never hurt her. Why, he hadn't even touched her! Erik... A gentle slap across the face brought her back to the present, and her eyes focused on the worried, troubled expression of le Vicomte de Chagny. "Christine... I'm sorry, I had to do that... You were mumbling incoherently, I thought... I thought you were going mad!"
Heated anger and anguish caused her words, which snapped deceivingly softly up to the man. "Oh, that? You mean the slap? What about everything else, Raoul?" Despair overtook her again, and she began to rock, sobbing, trying to comfort the baby that was no longer there. "The baby.... Gods, Raoul, why the baby?" Perhaps she was going mad...
"My love, forgive me... I... I went to far... I was angry, drunk... I couldn't stop myself..." Again, came the apologies, as he went down on his knees to beg her forgiveness. The worst part about it, Christine thought miserably to herself, is he believes that he is sincere, and he believes so will my forgiveness be. "I'm so sorry, Christine... But... the docteur will be here soon, and he'll take care of everything... You'll be all right, you will, you'll see... And... and we can have another baby... Yes, a little boy or a little girl, wouldn't you like that? Oh, Christine..." He pressed a shaking hand over hers.
"Raoul..." She moaned, then gave it all up to the terrible agony that had been her unborn child.
A knock resounded at the door. The doctor had arrived.
Just before Raoul got up to let him in, he whispered. "Christine, you mustn't tell him that I did this... You must say ... you must say..." He hesitated as he thought for an appropriate lie. "You must say that you fell! Yes, you fell, and you hit your stomach hard. Too hard, and this happened... Remember, Christine, they won't believe you over me, and that's what I shall tell them... All right, my love, I'll let in the docteur..."
Christine simply sat, shaking and numb, where she was, knowing the truth of Raoul's words, and knowing that he would do so much worse if she tried to tell the docteur what had really happened.
Charles Brynner was an Englishman, who had arrived some twenty years ago in Paris, and had become Christine's family doctor ever since. He'd known her since she was a child, knew every tear and smile, and had a sort of fatherly doting for her since she'd won his heart by singing for him at the age of three. Never had he met a more innocent, soft, child-at-heart... never had he met so poor a liar. He knew very well what had happened, but dared not say a thing, lest he upset the owner of the maison. He didn't fear Raoul; even at age 67, with his hair graying, and his vision beginning to recede from time's force, he was still strong and active, but he feared very much for Christine. So, as he bent down to her pale, bloody form, he wasn't slow to inject the pain killers that may have been a bit dangerous to chance on her considering her blood loss, but knowing that she needed them more than almost anything right now.
He kept his voice loud enough for Raoul to hear him when he asked her how it had happened, but Christine's voice had come out soft, and weak.
"I... I must have fallen, Dr. Brynner. I must have fallen and... and injured myself... Oh, the baby..." She began to cry, and his heart ached to comfort her, but knew he dared not.
"There, there now..." He murmured, after he'd disposed of the syringe and returned to her. His warm accent soothing her somehow, as it always had a child. "I know, Christine... Shhh.... Hush, now..."
At last she fell silent, weeping into his arms... He wanted to kill that man.
