Maurice sat in a cramped room in the inn, lit only by a candle that stood in the corner of the room. Beside him in the bed lay the Vicomte de Chagny. When Maurice found him, he was laying face down in the middle of the road, a dark pool of blood forming around his body. Maurice reached down and put two fingers on Raoul's neck. His skin was cold and he had a slow but steady pulse. Maurice ran as fast as he could to the inn and called out to the other men for help. Together they carried Raoul to Maurice's room while another man ran to fetch a doctor. He burst into the room panting. There was no one in the village that had the capability or the desire to help.

"Damn! There's so much blood! We've got to find a way to stop the bleeding. Put some pressure on the wound," Maurice commanded in a shaking voice. In the short time that he had known this man, they had become rather close. Maurice looked down at Raoul's pale face as the men scurried around the crowded room. He felt like he was losing his best friend. Maurice turned when he heard the door bang against the wall. The owner of the inn, a widower in his forties, had thrown the door open.

"Clear the room out! It'll do him no good, all of you running around like chickens with your heads cut off. You- take this bucket and fill it in the kitchen. There's a fireplace in there that you can use to heat the water up. Not too hot though. You- my room is down the hall. There are some clean sheets in the closet. Bring them to me. The rest of you wait outside. Move!"

The owner approached the bed. "Help me lift him," he signaled to Maurice. "I need to see how bad it is." They rolled Raoul onto his side so that the owner could exam the wound.

"How do you know what to do?" Maurice questioned him as they gently laid Raoul back down.

"In a place like this, you need to know how to take care of yourself," he answered. He lifted the side of his shirt, revealing a long scar that ran along his abdomen.

In a moment the two men returned with the water and the sheets. The owner picked up a sheet. He wrapped in his hands a few times and then tore it down the middle. He submerged one half in the water, using it to mop up the blood and clean Raoul's injury. He took the other half and, with Maurice's help, wrapped it around Raoul's stomach and back several times. He used the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"We'll need to change those every few hours."

"Is he going to be alright?" Maurice asked sadly.

"We'll have to wait and find out. You should probably assign shifts to watch over him."

"Thank you for all your help monsieur. I promise that you'll be compensated."

The owner waved his hands through the air dismissively, "There's no need for that. It's nice to help out some decent people. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

After the owner left, silence enveloped the room. It was broken every few seconds only by Raoul's labored breathing. Maurice tilted his chair back on two legs and propped his feet up on the night stand. He ran his hands through his graying hair and his thoughts drifted back to the woman he had loved in his youth. Marguerite Laroque. She was the most hauntingly beautiful woman he had ever seen, with her jet black hair and bright blue eyes. He met her one day at the market in his hometown. They had tried to buy the same book. Maurice felt electricity as their hands met on the smooth cover. They looked into each other's eyes and smiled shyly. He ended up buying it and giving it to her with his name written inside the front cover. From that day on, they were practically inseparable. But theirs was a secret love. Her father was a very wealthy landowner, his was a factory worker. They would never receive the approval that they so desperately desired. One day, Maurice asked Marguerite to marry him. He knew that he couldn't offer her the life she was used to living, but he could give her all of his heart. She happily accepted, taking Maurice in a tight embrace, and they made a plan to meet the next week and wed in secret. Maurice was in the church waiting for her when the time came. After ten minutes, the priest suggested that Maurice go home and wait to hear from her.

"No père, I'm sure she will be here soon," Maurice said confidently. "She's probably just getting ready. You know how women like to look their best."

Another ten minutes went by and she still hadn't arrived. Now Maurice was nervous. What if she wasn't able to get away? Maurice took off his jacket and began the long walk to Marguerite's house. As he was walking, he overheard two women gossiping in the street.

"Did you hear about Monsieur Laroque? It seems he took his whole family, moved away suddenly in the middle of the night last night. No one knows where they've gone."

"Sounds rather scandalous to me," one of them began to laugh.

Moved away? Why? He couldn't have known. Could he? Maurice sprinted as fast as he could all the way to Marguerite's house. He opened the door and ran inside. It was completely empty. The furniture was gone, the paintings taken down from the wall. Maurice dropped his head into his hands and wept. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small piece of paper. The note was stained with tears. It had obviously been written in haste, the handwriting shaky:

"My dear Maurice- I'm sorry that this is how we must part. Father has discovered our plan and decided to take me far away from here. He says that he has found someone suitable to make me a bride. Tomorrow we shall be married. Don't try to find me, it will be too late. I don't think I could bear the pain of seeing you after I become the wife of another. Please know that you will always be with me in my heart. Treasure our memories, my love.

Eternally yours,

Marguerite"

Maurice closed his eyes, trying to block out the pain that the memory brought. He had never loved another woman after Marguerite; he wouldn't let another woman get close to him. He opened his eyes and gazed at Raoul's sleeping form. He knew all too well the pain that the young man felt.

"Don't worry monsieur. I swear to you, I will do whatever it takes to help you find your lost love."