Chapter Twenty-nine
Philippe leaned across the table towards Raoul, lowering his voice even though the tables closest to them were empty.
"Monsieur, there are others here in Casablanca who share in your work, who try to aid the resistance in Paris and other places. But our information, our list of contacts is no longer current. You have just come from Paris...there is a great deal you could tell us."
"I will be glad to help youi as much as I can," Raoul assured him in an equally hushed tone.
"Good, good. Listen, mon ami, there is a meeting tonight. Will you come?"
"Yes. I have reservations for Belle Reve again. Hiding in plain sight as they say. But I can leave early. When and where is the meeting?"
"Meet me here. By the kitchen door in the back. At a quarter of midnight. I will take you to the meeting at a safe house just outside the city."
He held out a bony hand to Raoul.
"Thank you, Monsieur de Chagny."
"Christine. look at me. Look at my face!"
Christine opened her eyes and slowly let her gaze travel up Erik's tall form to his face.
The mask was gone.
Her hand flew to her mouth, but it was too late to hush her scream.
Erik...mon Dieu..oh, Erik...
The right side of his face from his temple almost to his chin was ravaged. The flesh was twisted and ridged, the skin discolored and, beneath his eye, it seemed to drag painfully downward.
His lip curled into an agnry smile at her cry and he bent over her.
"Now you know, Christine," he snarled, grabbing her by both arms and yanking her onto her feet, "now you know!"
Then he saw her eyes...the horror and instinctive revulsion in them was already gone. In its place, he saw only a strange, gentle sadness...a sorrow he could not bear to see.
"I don't want your pity!"
He jerked her closer until her body was crushed against his.
She tried to pull her hand free. She didn't want him to let her go, but she needed to touch his poor face, to let her fingers trace the damage features, to take away his agony.
But he held her too tightly.
"Erik, you didn't have to hide this from me...you didn't! I could have endured it."
"You think so? Don't deceive yourself, Christine...don't lie to me! You think you could endure an eternity of this?"
With that, he kissed her.
She felt herself pushed back against the bookshelf, his mouth hot and hard and unforgiving on hers.
The suddenness and harshness of his kiss startled and terrified her. He had never been so cruel with her. Passionate, but never cruel.
She found the strength to wrench herself out of his arms and pushed past him to the door. She slid back the bolt and turned to look at him again.
He did not meet her eyes, but stood with his hand over his disfigurement.
"Sam was right," she said in a broken whisper, "Erik is dead."