Chapter 11 A Work Finished
He did not know, he who wore his heart on his sleeve, he who observed only the good old law of Nature in the world, he who allowed
his passions to follow their inclinations, and in whom the lake
of great emotions was always dry, so freely did he let it off
each day by fresh drains,--he did not know with what fury
the sea of human passions ferments and boils when all egress
is denied to it, how it accumulates, how it swells, how it
overflows, how it hollows out the heart; how it breaks in inward
sobs, and dull convulsions, until it has rent its dikes and
burst its bed.
Erik re-read this passage of The Hunchback of Notre Dame with Raoul in his thoughts. How could this child of fortune understand his deeply felt emotions for Christine-- his gypsy, his muse. He saw in Raoul the character of Phoebus, the handsome soldier who had the young gypsies affection. The fool of a man who yearned for her physically, yet did not consider her beyond that of a toy. He put down his well worn copy and reflected back to when he had first received it from Mme Giry.
He had devoured it. As a child he had not cared much for fiction, only wanting to read about the world, books of geography and history, magazines depicting this grand outer world he was not a part of. But this was special, he had not much to read other than the Operas he had largely already consumed. Madame had heard of the book and knew it would be of interest to him. He of course identified with Quasimodo, but was enthralled with Claude Frollo, admiring his power, his passion for knowledge and the love of a woman who did not love him back. He sawin Esmereldasome ofhis own beautiful mother who had rejected him for his ugliness. He modeled himself on the figure of the archdeacon. He was about 15 years of age then, already tall, and in the dark days of winter would go cloaked to Bibliotheque Nationale de France, a library Madame Giry had taken him to finally, exhausted by his thirst. No one would take much notice of him, in the dark deserted rows of books on magic and illusion. He spent many hours practicing, until he had learned every magicians trick available for him to learn. He meddled with alchemy, but he did not have the patience-- or madness for that he finally decided. From the book he also developed a great love of architecture. He wanted desperately to see the actual star of the story, the fantastic Notre Dame Cathedral. Dutifully awed, this spurred him out on nights when the moon was full, taking in the beautiful gothic La Sainte Chapelle and the Louvre, whose outer self was so beautiful it impressed him enough to go inside. Summoning every ounce of courage he had, curiously cloaked, but not noticing the stares, distracted by the beauty displayed within. These trips also gave him the boldness to purchase his own goods from the many who linedParis streets in those earliest of hours, before dawn, with the money he earned for the operas he presented. Yes this book was his bible. In the last few years had identified with the pain of the priest cursed with a forbidden, consuming desire. But his Esmerelda loved him, he thought. He was unsure.
The past month he had spent finishing the Don Juan Triumphant. He could not stand the thought of Piangi playing the part of a handsome Don Juan, shuddered at the thought of Christine playing opposite him. There was no one else to play the part however he sighed, just as Carlotta had no understudy, neither did Piangi have use for one. Mme had talked to Christine. She understood all that was happening and what she needed to do. She satisfied herself that this what Christine wanted. But Raoul persisted. Erik finally decided Christine should play along with him and they would simply leave the night of the performance, afteritwas performed. He owed her that. He had refashioned his opera to illustrate to an audience their love and desire for each other.
Raoul stopped guarding her door after the last confrontation with Antoinette, and after no further events had occurred, stopped posting guards as well. Erik took Christine to practice her part as he was writing it still. She was growing more at ease with him, but he would not take off the mask. One night as they were passing through the secret passageways, she saw some light at a place in the wall and stopped to look. There was the managers office inside. Firmin was sitting in a chair looking quite contented. She gasped as she saw one of the dancers kneeling before him. Erik looked back at her gasp and turned to see what it was she was viewing. He rolled his eyes-- this did not surprise him-- and quickly pulled her from the peephole, uncomfortable with the display. Christine had been shocked by this and uncomfortable as well, but... used this knowledge to her advantage later. She enjoyed the control she had over the creature of myth she had 'married' in her mind. She also enjoyed the humor she was amazed to find he posessed, and was more and more impressed with his genius as she spent hours while he worked, looking through old scores he had written.
She spent less and less time with Raoul, using the excuse that she was practicing for a new Opera. She would have the lead, but it was to be kept secret from all especially Carlotta for some time. It would be announced New Years Eve she told him. But...the more time she spent with Raoul the fonder she grew of him. He was young and brash, but he did have a simple childlike love for her she adored. He wanted to marry her, but she desisted, using the boundaries of class distinction as her armor. "We shall play as lovers Raoul, pretend. But you must know I could never marry you." He was leaving soon to join the military, as rumors of war persisted. She thought that would be the end of the whole affair. But he would not let her go.
He wanted her to marry him before he left. She was with child. What kind of parent would Erik make? If he indeed sought assistance from the doctors, would they really help him with his insecurities, uncontrollable rages? A part of her was still frightened of him. Raoul insisted all would be well if she were to marry him, there were many great divas who ended up marrying royalty. But she was not a great diva yet. It was why he put up with her practices, and with her spending less time with him. He had not forgotten her Phantom. It was believed by most however that he was gone.
He was there however, watching them at times when he returned her to her room, and other times, in the shadows when they attended various events. This is how it should be for her he thought, a normal life with and adoring young man at her side, he thought sadly. He grew not to hate Raoul, but to have a greater understanding of him, to acknowledge his qualities. He only felt sadness for him.
He decided to make an entrance the night of the grand ball masque. It would establish his control at the opera house until his opera was performed. He did not like the thought of having to present his work to the managers before being paid-- considered it an insult. But they would not believe that he had really written the previous fantastic works of which he was proud. He had been sitting for some time drinking enough to brace himself for the event, growing angrier by the moment at the thought of the activity going on above him, angry he was not a part of the outside world he cherished. He would 'present' his works.
