When he had gone, she picked up the roll and broke off a piece. As she ate, she looked around this grotto…his home.
One large niche seemed to serve him as a library; it was crammed with books…there were hundreds of them. Stacked on rickety shelves and piled knee-high on the floor.
Another cavern contained a work table. Spread across it were sketches, pencils, brushes, paint boxes, and watercolors. She longed to get up and take a closer look at his pictures…many of them seem to be of a young woman with long chestnut girls…Mademoiselle Daae, no doubt.
At the center of the largest grotto, there was a massive pipe organ. It's polished dark wood with silver ornamentation reminded her…for a moment, at least…of her husband's casket.
She shook away that morbid image as he returned.
He had changed into a fresh white shirt and waistcoat of dark blue brocade. He was still adjusting his cravat as he came down the steps and took a seat opposite her.
At first, neither of them spoke. She saw him glance over at the portcullis from time to time.
What would he say…what would he do…if I told him that I know what lies beneath that mask?
"Monsieur," she said, finally, "you haven't told me your name."
For the first time since he had awakened her, he met her eyes and she saw that the question had caught him off guard.
"My name? My name," he said, as if it trying to remember something long gone, "is Erik."
He looked away as footsteps echoed through the stone vaults. A thin man with a dark complexion emerged from a walkway on the other side of the portcullis.
Erik rose and, with a nod of acknowledgement to the man, kicked a heavy iron lever. The gate rose slowly to admit the stranger.
The man greeted Helene with a courteous bow of his head, though it was clear her presence was not entirely expected.
"Madame Giry told me you needed these," the man said in a heavily accented voice as he handed a packet to Erik.
"Thank you. They are for this lady here. I'm afraid she met with a small…accident on the stage."
"Another accident," the visitor said, giving Erik a sharp and searching look as he helped himself to some coffee.
"Always the suspicious one, Daroga," Erik said with a bitter laugh.
Sensing an odd tension between the two men, Helene interrupted.
"I assure you, it was indeed an accident. I was quite careless while walking across those rotting boards."
"Cometessa," Erik said as he unwrapped the packet, "this is Nadir. He is an old…friend. Nadir, this is the Comtessa di Sciacca-Licaria."
"A pleasure, Comtessa. A surprise, but a pleasure."