When Claire reached the lagoon, Erik was waiting for her. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me," he said sullenly.

She sighed and shook her head in exasperation. She had been coming to see him for two years now, ever since he came to live at the opera house, and yet he still didn't trust her fully. "No," she said crossly. "I didn't forget." Her tone softened as she continued. "Mademoiselle Gaudet kept us in rehearsal late."

"That woman is a witch," Erik said. "Someone should do something about her."

Claire wasn't sure what he meant by it, but something in his tone of voice send a shiver through her. "She just wants to make sure that we live up to the reputation of the Opera Populaire ballet chorus," she explained. She opened the sack that she brought and took out half of a brioche and a piece of cheese. She handed them to the boy. "It's not much," she apologized.

He took the food from her. "Thank you, Claire," he said. He put the bread and cheese in the basket in his little boat. She could hear him rummaging around in the boat, and she wondered what he was up to. "Close your eyes," he said at last. "I have a surprise for you."

"Erik…" she protested. But she knew that it was pointless to argue with him. Somehow, he always managed to talk her into whatever it was that he wanted. She closed her eyes obediently.

She heard the sound of a piece of heavy paper being unrolled. He had persuaded her to bring him some drawing paper and a charcoal pencil…had he drawn her a picture? "You can open your eyes now."

She opened her eyes to see a beautiful rendering of her own face in charcoal. The detail was exquisite. "You drew this?" she asked, breathless. "It's wonderful!"

Erik had a huge smile peeking out from under his mask. "I'm glad you like it, Claire. I made it for you." He handed the drawing to her.

"Oh Erik," she said quietly. "It's beautiful, but I can't take it. What would I do with it? If anyone saw it, they would certainly ask questions…"

The disappointment in his eyes was almost more than she could bear. He knew she was right, though. If his existence were discovered, it would mean death for him, and maybe for her as well. He was, after all, still a wanted murderer, and she had helped him escape. No, the risk was too great. He took the drawing back from her and said, "I will just have to keep it myself."