Meg: We spent all afternoon going up and down the mountain.

I sped down four times while Erik went six times. The last two times I waited with the mule while Erik sped down as fast as an eagle.

Although it was exhilarating, it was also exhausting. Erik and I ate dinner with a new young friend I had met. We talked about our countries and our interests.

Later the girl decided to go ski a few more times before true night fell.

I walked with Erik towards the main building. He led me to a soft chair and asked if I wanted tea. It was nice how happy he seemed taking care of me.

I wondered why Christine hadn't wanted to stay and be pampered by him all her life. Of course being with a Vicompte meant she could be pampered by servants and maids; but it wasn't the same.

I got a rather interesting book from the bookcase and began to read while Erik placed the tea on the table beside me.

He wondered over to the bookcase and browsed. I had a suspicion he had already read them all before.

I became absorbed in my own book when a few minutes later there was a horrible racket. Two young men, perhaps my age, were trying to play the grand piano that stood in the corner.

They were laughing as if it were all fun. The noise they made could hardly be called "fun".

I tried to ignore them as many other people were doing. My book was rather interesting.

Suddenly my ears picked up the most familiar tune, and I immediately turned to find Erik playing the piano instead.

The boys were standing beside him and several other people had come to watch. I stood up and walked over to him, wary of the pressing crowd. I knew Erik was uncomfortable with so many people pressed around him.

I made my way to his side and he never looked up from the keys, but asked me quietly, "Could you dance for me Meg?" I smiled as his song switched to a simple ballet, with no interruption in the beat.

Many people clapped and by now the entire room, including the concierge at the main desk, were watching Erik.

I made their eyes switch to me, however, as I began a simple pirouette in fourth position. I followed the movements; although I was rather bulky in my long dress.

I picked up the hem and began an arabesque. The crowd was now filling a small semi-circle around the piano and myself as I danced gracefully to Erik's music.

He began to change tempo and I kept up, hearing the applause as I had heard so many months ago at the Opera. I danced and smiled, glad to be on my toes again.

Erik's music crescendoed, and I twirled in third position as I finished my laureation and pirouetting.

I bowed to the crowd as they applauded and many of them spoke to each other. Erik smiled as I came over and sat beside him.

"Why did you do that?" I asked him. He replied, "Why wouldn't I?"

It was a good answer.

Erik: After dinner Meg and I went to the main building to relax.

She sat in a chair and sipped her tea while I browsed the books that lined the large bookcase. There were some I had already read but others that looked fairly interesting.

All thoughts of reading, however, ended when I heard a most atrocious noise.

Two boys, no older than Meg herself, were laughing and pounding the keys of the piano that rested in the corner. It was a horrible way to treat such a fine instrument.

I went to them as an older man muttered, "Just ignore them Sir."

I confronted them with an iced stare and asked, "What gives you the right to treat someone's property with such disrespect?" One of the boys looked at me while the other backed away.

"We were just playing Mister. No offense." I shooed the boys away and sat down upon the bench, feeling the keys once again beneath my fingers.

I began to play a small tune, nothing but an old song I used to sing. It felt wonderful to be playing again, the rich melody and soft twinkling of the piano.

I felt the presence of the two insolent boys and soon felt many others watching me. I began to feel claustrophobic, afraid of the ravaging mob.

My fingers began to hit the keys too hard and I berated myself.

Perfection was the only way to make fine music.

Soon I felt Meg's calming presence before me and my frightened heart beat slower.

"Could you dance for me Meg?" I asked her, while the real question was, "Could you make them stop staring at me?"

I played a sweet ballet tune for my young ballerina, and the crowd watched her as she soared across the wood floor of the ski lodge.

I poured myself into the music, caressing the keys and tenderly playing the song. Meg danced as I played, and it was nice to actually have someone acting out the music. I knew if Christine had been there with me, her voice would have sufficed to only make the crowd watch us both.

However, Meg's twirling and twisting kept the people's eyes away from me. I had always liked Meg's dancing. She was one of the best, and I had made every opportunity for the mangers to make her Prima Ballerina.

It had been my dream, so long ago, to have Christine on stage as Prima Donna, singing my music with her delightful voice while Meg, the Prima Ballerina, revealed the actions of my Opera through her graceful and charming dance.

Now, far to sadly, that dream was shattered.

I closed the song with a flourish as Meg ended her performance, and the crowd applauded.

Were they applauding for me or for Megan? It was indeed the first time anyone had ever applauded for my music. I almost cried, but stifled myself as Meg sat beside me.

She was smiling and I nodded. "They really liked you." She told me.

I shook my head no, "They liked you. I was just the accompanist."

She replied, "Erik, can't you ever take a compliment?" I shrugged.

The truth was, I found it hard to accept that people had actually liked my music. It was almost as if I expected to be hated and ridiculed. A compliment, was simply incomprehensible.

The crowd had wafted back to their previous actions, and Meg sat beside me as I hit a few keys.

She looked at me and said quietly, "I don't think I can ask you to sing can I?" I immediately shook my head. "If I sang these people would become automatons, puppets under my control. Or else, there would be a large orgy."

She laughed and I laughed too, although it was true.

I was afraid to sing for more than two or three people. The last time I had performed for an audience, also my first and last, they had become enslaved by me. If I had asked them all to raise their hands, they would have. My voice was like a hypnotist, without the spinning watch or black and white wheel.

I could still somewhat control Meg and Ann, and especially Christine. The poor girl had never had a chance under my voice.

Instead I played a small tune, feeling the keys as I composed a sonnet from thin air. I made the music up as I went along, and Meg watched my fingers deftly playing.

A few people were watching us, but not quite as large a crowd. Someone from somewhere brought a small glass of champagne and placed it on the hood of the piano.

I gasped, and Meg quickly picked up the glass and wiped the area clean with her sleeve.

She sipped it and handed it to me. I stopped playing and took a sip. It was old champagne, and not in a good way either.

"This isn't very good." I told her. She asked, "Can I bring you another?"

I shook my head and turned to the keys. Meg watched and I wondered if she had ever played an instrument. I knew she was more of a dancer though.

"Would you like to try?" I asked.

She looked at me quizzically. I gently picked up her hands and placed them on the appropriate keys.

"Always keep your fingers here, although they may stray down"
I played her fingers down one way, "Or they may play up," I moved her fingers upwards the other end of the piano,
"But always return here, to these ten keys."

She nodded and I moved her fingers in a gentle manner. "Repeat that." I asked her.

She played the tune and I smiled. "Try your own music."

I watched as she played; of all things; chopsticks.

"Megan Giry, you must know something other than that." I placed my arm around her back and held both of her hands in mine.

"Don't play anything you know, just feel the music in your fingers and play what you feel." Suddenly I realized just how close I was to her, but was too far involved to simply pull back.

Meg began to play a light melody, hitting the keys hard.

"Not hard, soft. Like this." I tapped her finger against the key.

She repeated the gesture and played again, hitting the keys softer as I watched. I could smell her perfume, a simple scent of spice and flowers together. The truth was, I was feeling rather dizzy.

I had never even been this close to another woman other than Christine, and it was intoxicating.

The sweet feeling of Meg's arm against my hand as I followed her movements made me sigh, and suddenly she turned to me.

"Do you like what I play?" She asked. Her own face was mere inches from my own, and I gazed into her deep blue eyes.

"Yes." I was surprised I could even say that one word without stammering.

She looked at me, our bodies closer than they had ever been. My arm rested against her back as my other hand held onto the piano.

Her hands tenderly came to me, and she fiddled with the button on my coat. "Erik" She whispered, and I asked her, "Yes?" I came closer, a feeling of apprehension deep within my gut.

I could feel her tension as well, and we looked at each other. Slowly Meg came closer to me, and my heart beat faster. "Erik, um. I" She licked her trembling lips and a feeling of intensity shot through me.

I placed my head closer to hers as Meg continued to toy with the button.

Tenderly, gently, I reached up and pulled her hands away from my coat, which only caused me to become closer to her warm body.

I watched her eyes watching me and I asked, "Meg. What is it you have to say?" I myself wanted to scream.

She looked at me and asked in a bare whisper. "I like you. Do you. Like me?"

I told her honestly, "I like you. You are my friend."

It sounded like something a five year old would say.

I noticed how warm and soft her back felt against my hand, and I gently rubbed against the soft fabric of her dress. Meg looked at me and whispered, "Do you like me, as perhaps, more than a friend?"

I didn't really know how to respond. Actually, I did enjoy Meg's company.

She was a sweet, compassionate person who helped me when most people would have hung me from a noose. Her mother was the only real friend I had ever had, and without either of them, I would have been lost within an immense hell.

The feelings I felt for Meg resembled the feelings I felt for Christine.

I liked her presence, her conversation's, but in some odd way I did not feel as obsessive for Meg as I had Christine. Meg could leave for hours and I would not worry over where she was, or what she was doing.

I did not spend every moment thinking about her.

Actually, it was a relief. I knew if I needed her, Meg would be there, and so I did not worry about her leaving and never returning.

Now, however, she was confessing that she had those feelings for me. Of course, she was only a young woman. Perhaps she had some type of crush on me; although why I couldn't understand.

I was not the kind of man women would fawn over.

I looked at her and she asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Now how was I supposed to answer that?

Did I tell her about how I thought her eyes matched the color of the sea in Italy, or how I liked when we talked? Did I tell her I was thinking about my feelings for Christine over my feelings for Meg? Did she want me to tell her about how I thought a nice kiss on the cheek would send me into extasy?

Why would Meg ask me such a complicated question?

I decided to be honest, because above all I valued our trust together. "I was thinking, about how I liked you, and I loved Christine, and trying to comprehend my feelings. It's difficult."

Meg pulled away a bit and asked, "You like me, but you love Christine?"

That wasn't exactly what I had meant. "It's just. This is so sudden. Meg, do you really have feelings for me?"

I couldn't understand. I was a genius in so many areas, but women were the only thing that eluded me.

Meg leaned in closer and whispered, "You are a nice man Erik. Despite some things, I do enjoy your company. You've taught me so much about the world, and science, and other things. I've never felt so, connected, to anyone."

I rubbed her back to reassure myself this was not some dream.

Christine had never talked to me about anything really, other than her father and the daily activities of the Opera. Meg, however, listened and talked about so many other items. She was a good companion on a long journey.

I leaned in closer and asked her, "Do you, really mean that?"

Was I really that insecure? I could kill a man with my bare hands, but I could barely have a discussion this close to a warm female.

Meg suddenly reached her hand towards my ski mask and I flinched.

"Let us continue this discussion in our room Erik."

I bit my lip and wondered if there was any of that foul, old champagne left..