Chapter Twelve - The Only Reality
Meg watched for a moment as his fingers brushed against the artificial features.
She would not ask. The mask was there to conceal, not to inspire her curiosity.
She rose and tried to straighten her rumpled dress. She had stayed too long…her mother would be worried.
"I should go, Monsieur. Please forgive me, I should not have intruded."
His lips curled into a sneer beneath his mask as he donned a waistcoat and dress jacket.
"No, little Giry, you should not have come here. It could have been very dangerous for you."
"Would you have harmed me, then?"
"No. But only for your mother's sake and for Christine's," he said, shaking his head as he picked up a silk cravat from the back of a chair.
"Monsieur, how is it that you know my mother so well?"
Yet again he left her question unanswered.
"It's time you returned. Come…you need not wade across the lake again."
Stepping behind her, he laid the cravat over her eyes and tied it behind her head.
She was startled by the sudden blindness and by the abruptness of the gesture itself.
"There are many entrances to this place, Mademoiselle. But they are of no concern to you."
She shivered a little, partly because of the dampness of her clothing, partly because of the nearness of his voice.
He must have seen her tremble; a moment later she felt the soft weight of a wool and silk cloak settle over her shoulders.
Then he took her fingertips and led her from his sanctuary.
She had no choice, but to trust this Angel…this Phantom…this man who was the only reality as she walked in the darkness.
At last he stopped and removed the silk from her eyes.
Blinking, she looked around and found that they were in a tiny passage. It was so dark that she felt as if she were still blindfolded.
He was near her, though, she could feel his arm brush hers and see the pale sheen of his mask in the gloom.
"Just turn to your right and walk straight; there is a door and you will find your own way."
As he spoke, he slid the cape from her shoulders and she knew he was moving away from her.
She heard his voice, disembodied and far away. But so clear and too masterful.
"If you say a word to Christine, Mademoiselle, my respect for your mother will not protect you."
