Chapter Thirty-four
When they neared her table, Erik abruptly released Christine's arm and, giving her a slight and formal bow, left her.
She watched for a second as he moved into the mass of patrons and staff who all seemed to forget the forbidding scowl and mystery of his mask as they surged forward to shake his hand. She, too, found herself surrounded by people who reached out to thank her with tears in their eyes.
Finally, she reached her table and her husband. She saw both surprise and admiration in his eyes as he took her hand. She forced herself not to pull it away from him.
I am, after all, Madame de Chagny…
When the furor at last subsided, she saw that Major Hetzner's face was still flushed with anger as he spoke with Inspector Giry.
"Christine," she heard her husband say quietly and she turned to look at him.
Raoul paused and toyed with the mother-of-pearl caviar spoon before continuing.
"That man, Christine…is that Erik?"
She did not answer and only nodded as she watched Erik edge his way our of the crowd towards the stairs. She saw him stop and glance over at the German officers.
Erik's expression did not change, but she saw his eyes darkened at the sight of Major Hetzner. And she suddenly knew that this was the Nazi responsible for…for the unspeakable things that had happened to Erik in Paris.
Her fingers coiled themselves into the folds the shawl, her nails digging into her palms until she almost cried with the pain.
If she had the strength and the means, she would have gladly killed the Major then and there…not matter what harms came to her for doing it.
"Yet I thought Erik was dead. That note you received in Marseilles…"
"He wanted me to believe it, Raoul," she said, letting her helpless rage give way to a too-familiar sadness, "for my sake. He didn't think I could stand to know what…what had happened to him."
"What happened to him? Was it the Nazis?"
"I don't know what they did to him."
Raoul shook his head in disgust. He'd always felt a slight tinge of jealousy towards this Erik. He'd sensed that his wife had never stopped mourning his death. Still, he could not help but feel pity for whatever this man had suffered…yet another victim of the Nazis.
"Poor devil."
"Don't you dare say that about him, Raoul. He doesn't want your sympathy. Or mine."
The heated tone of Christine's voice caught him off guard. He laid down the caviar spoon he had been turning over and over in his hands/
"Christine, when you said you were going outside for some air last night…did you really go to meet this Erik instead?"
Chapter Thirty-four
When they neared her table, Erik abruptly released Christine's arm and, giving her a slight and formal bow, left her.
She watched for a second as he moved into the mass of patrons and staff who all seemed to forget the forbidding scowl and mystery of his mask as they surged forward to shake his hand. She, too, found herself surrounded by people who reached out to thank her with tears in their eyes.
Finally, she reached her table and her husband. She saw both surprise and admiration in his eyes as he took her hand. She forced herself not to pull it away from him.
I am, after all, Madame de Chagny…
When the furor at last subsided, she saw that Major Hetzner's face was still flushed with anger as he spoke with Inspector Giry.
"Christine," she heard her husband say quietly and she turned to look at him.
Raoul paused and toyed with the mother-of-pearl caviar spoon before continuing.
"That man, Christine…is that Erik?"
She did not answer and only nodded as she watched Erik edge his way our of the crowd towards the stairs. She saw him stop and glance over at the German officers.
Erik's expression did not change, but she saw his eyes darkened at the sight of Major Hetzner. And she suddenly knew that this was the Nazi responsible for…for the unspeakable things that had happened to Erik in Paris.
Her fingers coiled themselves into the folds the shawl, her nails digging into her palms until she almost cried with the pain.
If she had the strength and the means, she would have gladly killed the Major then and there…not matter what harms came to her for doing it.
"Yet I thought Erik was dead. That note you received in Marseilles…"
"He wanted me to believe it, Raoul," she said, letting her helpless rage give way to a too-familiar sadness, "for my sake. He didn't think I could stand to know what…what had happened to him."
"What happened to him? Was it the Nazis?"
"I don't know what they did to him."
Raoul shook his head in disgust. He'd always felt a slight tinge of jealousy towards this Erik. He'd sensed that his wife had never stopped mourning his death. Still, he could not help but feel pity for whatever this man had suffered…yet another victim of the Nazis.
"Poor devil."
"Don't you dare say that about him, Raoul. He doesn't want your sympathy. Or mine."
The heated tone of Christine's voice caught him off guard. He laid down the caviar spoon he had been turning over and over in his hands/
"Christine, when you said you were going outside for some air last night…did you really go to meet this Erik instead?"