That night she could barely contain her excitement when I told her we were going on a carriage ride through La Rue. She had given me look of quiet disbelief, which slightly irritated me. Was it so inconceivable that I was capable of enjoying such a simple leisure? I suppose all this smoke and mirror interaction had convinced her I was more of reclusive obsessor than a man who was sociable with nature. Well I would have to prove her wrong tonight.
When we arrived at the gate, Jules was waiting obediently in the carriage—but before I gave him the order, he began to drive, almost too hastily I noted. Christine did not seem to notice, as she was fascinated by the streetlights outside of the Opera Garnier, putting her hand out into the night and letting the air slip between her fingers.
"How delightful!" She whispered, a smile spreading across her lips. Still distracted by the speed with which we sped off, I turned my gaze back to her delicate features softening in the blue moonlight.
"Yes, it's quite beautiful…"
She looked up at me and blushed—perhaps my tone had given me away. "How often do you come here, Erik?"
I pulled the curtain back from the window with a gloved hand and squinted at the glowing trees that could not catch up with us in the night. "Once in a while, when the occasional need for fresh air calls for it…."
"Do you always come alone, then?"
I shot her a look of hurt surprise. "Well, I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice, do I, my dear?"
"Oh Erik—"
"Besides I'm not particularly fond of carriages; they're far too enclosed inside. Very much like a cage!"
I threw the curtain back over the window and sat into the darkness, my hands clenching my knees in barely contained irritation. She may not have intentionally meant to mock me but I suddenly could not push the oppressive feeling of a cage out of my mind; I was being choked by a question that seemed to squeeze my heart into a tiny unyielding fist.
"Erik!"
I felt her small hand on my shoulder, then on my arm, my chest, where I was sure my heart was beating thunderously wild. She began to shake me by the shoulders as I gasped for air, and then proceeded to beat her small fist on my back as if it would loosen the iron knot in my chest. I had hoped that she would never witness an attack like this herself; sadly my calculations of when they would occur was greatly misinterpreted, and now as she clung onto me crying and shaking me frantically, I began to see the horror brimming in her eyes. I truly believed that if I were to die at that very moment, she would go completely mad.
"Christine! Stop this at once," I commanded as I pulled her hands from my back and tried to redeem my composure, "There's no need for hysterics…"
She looked at me in such dumbfound terror that I found it hard to match her gaze.
"What happened…?"
"Nonsense," I replied curtly, "bad memories, I suppose. They replay themselves in my mind once in a while…You needn't be afraid."
"Are you ill?" Her eyes were flooded with tears now. She gripped onto the satin brim of my cloak tightly as her voice grew quieter, "Will you die?"
I laughed at her ridiculous honesty. "Death is inevitable, my dear. We will all have that fateful meeting with Her one day, but I'm afraid I will not be seeing Her any time in the near future, if that's what you mean." I felt a spasm of sadness as I said those last words. Perhaps I was telling a lie, but at least it was for her good that I kept things simple, without any more pain.
"Oh please," she cried, throwing her arms around me like a desperate child clinging onto the alabaster that would save her life from the torrents that pulled her towards a relentless dark tide, "promise me you'll stay with me for as long as possible...please, promise me!"
Her hands felt like feathers against my neck, and as I prayed that the indents of her fingertips would sustain their sensation in my skin forever, I ran a gloved hand through her gossamer hair. She smelled like the jasmine leaves that I had given her this morning. Then, as she lifted her teary face and tilted her chin towards my mouth, I felt all the powers of self-possession leave her spirit…
Suddenly something from behind collided into the carriage with a force that threw Christine onto the floor in alarm. The brougham that sped closely behind us was driven by non other than the Vicomte de Chagny himself, his loose blond hair flying wildly behind him as he let out a growl of anguish when he saw me peer out. So this was why Jules had sped off so hastily; he must have suspected we were being followed all along! What poor miserable aim he had—he shot the carriage several times, succeeding only in scrapping the side of a wheel on one side. At least, I had to admired the courage that boy possessed to come so far as to initiate such a brassy confrontation! Even a brave man would rethink his plan before following a ghost's carriage into the night.
"To the woods de Germont!" I snapped, "Quickly!"
The carriage veered off from the clear road where in a jolt. It was a rocky downhill slope at first, but soon it was smooth again, as we sped through the shortcut in the woods to the back of the Opera Populaire, the Vicomte was long lost in a maze behind us.
I did not look at Christine, nor did she look at me. Where as the conflict of emotions from what would have been a tender moment kept my eyes averted from her, shame and reality kept hers from mine. What a pity it was that our evening had to be cut short by the abandoned lover who was all too determined to regain his childhood friend. Now it will be off to the music lessons that await her in my darkest domain…she will not be able to see sunlight for another day. All because that stupid boy wanted to kill me! If she had not been there, I unquestionably would have confronted his desire to duel. It would have been quick. I wouldn't have needed much more of a weapon than a lasso and a good grip. But how poorly timed his intrusion was indeed…
I helped her off the carriage in detached calm and unlocked the gates as she followed down into the labyrinth. My hand reached into my pocket where the traitorous ring rested, and handed it to her in burning disgust.
"Return this to your lover by messenger—" I snapped suddenly, "but if you attempt to see him again, Christine, do not ask how I will reward your treason."
As she bowed her head dutifully, she acceded to my request.
