VI. You shall know me
Madame Giry shook her head disapprovingly. "I really wonder why my daughter takes that long."
Christine shrugged. "Maybe she can't find what she's looking for."
"What is she looking for, anyway? If she has mislaid any of her things again..." Madame Giry produced a sound like an impatient snort. "I hope she is not up to some kind of mischief."
Sitting back in his chair comfortably, Raoul wondered what kind of mischief Meg might be up to. He did not know her very well until now, but that she occasionally was up to something had become clear to him rather soon. Well, maybe not occasionally, but frequently. How often he had seen that twinkle in Meg's eyes only yesterday, that prankster's look, and known that she had some kind of joke in store for them! Despite the fact that he had been the victim of several of these jokes, he liked Meg, and he had enjoyed her company, and now he hoped that she was not going to get herself into trouble with her mother, who seemed to be every bit as strict as his own.
"How is he?" Madame Giry asked, and Raoul did not even have to think to know who she meant.
"He is well", Christine replied. "I think I interpreted it correctly, when I said earlier on that he was probably... done with what he went to do. He is still somewhere down there now, but I expect him to come up again any time."
Raoul shifted uneasily. He was not entirely sure if it was good news that whoever had been sneaking around in the cellars was killed and the Phantom was well; he would have preferred to hear that they both had taken care of each other, with which his and Christine's problems would be over for good. And that the Phantom might come up again... He definitely was against this. Unconsciously he reached for his sabre, now lying beneath his chair, before he stopped himself. For some strange reason, which he did not understand at all, Christine did not want him to use his weapon against the Phantom. That Madame Giry disapproved was an entirely different matter; she had been friends with that... man once, but that Christine stubbornly refused to perceive him as the monster he was, this was something Raoul could not comprehend at all.
"Raoul?" Christine touched his knee, and he returned to reality straight away. "What's in that box under your chair?"
"Nothing", he answered vaguely, pushing it further beneath his chair with his heel. "Just equipment and stuff."
Christine gave him a frown. "What do you mean, equipment and stuff? What was it you fetched from the coach, apart from the sabre?"
"Er... cloaks. Yes, cloaks, and scarves", Raoul said brightly.
"What would we need cloaks and scarves up here for?" Christine inquired. "And besides, we didn't have that box when we came here."
Raoul shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "Yes, well... I picked it up because it seemed useful."
Abruptly Madame Giry rose from her seat, and Raoul was glad for the interruption. "If you will excuse me, I really should go and see if my daughter is still in her room, or where else she has gotten to." Both Raoul and Christine nodded their assent, and she swept out of the room, looking very stern indeed, muttering something under her breath, and Raoul thought he could just catch the phrase "box her ears".
"Would you care to tell me one thing?" Christine asked sweetly. "Why do our cloaks and scarves make such funny scrabbling noises?"
"I don't know." Raoul tried very hard to look surprised. "They've never done that before, as far as I know."
"Oh, Raoul!" Christine burst out laughing. "You're so perfectly silly sometimes! Come on, let me have a look!"
Raoul gave up. Sooner or later she would have found out anyway, and although he had meant it as a little surprise for when they came back home, he might as well show her now. He only hoped she would like the idea; he always had, but his father had refused for some reason. With an uncertain little smile, he pushed the suspicious box towards her, hoping that she would be pleased with him, or at least accept it if she wasn't. The odd scrabbling from inside increased slightly.
He watched her expectantly as she slowly lifted the lid. At first her expression was only that of curiosity, then her features suddenly lit up, and Raoul beamed, knowing he had done the right thing after all. "A puppy? Oh, and it's all small and fluffy! Where did you find it?"
"They were just chasing him out of the kitchens, the poor little bugger", Raoul explained. "A stray, it seems, probably put out by some heartless family who didn't want to keep him. You should have heard him, he was whining so pitifully... well, I told them I'd take him, and they provided me with a box to take him home in. And with a bit of sausage, but I think that's gone already. I thought because you compared me to a puppy yesterday – which was not exactly nice, in front of Meg, but never mind – that you might like to have one. Can we keep him?" he asked hopefully.
The small dog tried to lick her hand as Christine carefully lifted it out of its box. Its fur was black and dishevelled, but soft, and streaked with white at the muzzle and down along its chest and belly, and there were a few dots of brown, too. "Will you look at those big paws?" she exclaimed. "That one is going to be a large dog one day!" She scratched its flappy ears, and the dog started drooling onto her dress happily. "Oh, Raoul, you can't say no to anyone, can you?"
"So I can't keep him?" Raoul asked, crestfallen.
"Of course you can! If you want to have a dog, I don't want to be in your way. And besides, I like that one." The dog drooled some more, proving that it liked her just as well. "We'll have to get him a bowl and a basket and a leash and some toys..." Christine laughed. "Sounds like a funny day out shopping, doesn't it?"
Raoul agreed, glad that there would be no discussion now about if he was staying at home or coming along. After all, he was the one who had found the dog, so he had every right to. Well, actually Christine had made a promise about this matter, but then again, you never knew with women. It seemed that they were very devious and cunning at worming their way out of a promise once given. He tried to frown at Christine, but found himself smiling fondly instead. Even though he loved her more than his own life and possessions, he had to keep such things in mind, but having such thoughts around her was so very hard. Around her, all he truly wanted was please her, and have her smile at him.
But his own smile froze as he watched her bending down over the small bundle of fluffy fur on her lap and cocking her head sideways looking at it. There was… what? What exactly? How? Where did it come from? Not from him, certainly! Where, where the hell had she got it? "What's this on your neck?" he demanded, and his own voice sounded hoarse to his ears.
The dog flopped over onto its back, pawing the air, demanding to have its belly scratched. But Christine had almost forgotten it for now. "On… on my neck?" she asked, her pretty dark eyes going wide.
"Yes indeed, on your neck. Where did you get it?" A nasty suspicion was welling up in Raoul, a suspicion so wicked and vile that the mere idea made him sick. "It was him again, wasn't it? Forcing his attentions on you?"
Christine's cheeks reddened, and she lowered her eyes in embarrassment. "I couldn't stop him", she whispered.
"That bastard!" Raoul roared, jumping to his feet so hard that the chair fell over with a crash, making the small dog yelp with shock. "That foul, disgusting, sneaking, dirty bastard! If he ever comes back out of his cellars, I'll kill him!"
"Raoul! Calm yourself!"
"No, I won't!" Raoul bellowed. "I'll get him this time! I'll kill him! He's never again going to touch my girl, let alone leave such marks on her neck! I'll kill him for that!"
"Raoul!" Christine was clutching the whining dog, with eyes even wider than before.
He was scaring her, he realized, and he was sorry for it immediately, but there were some things which could not remain unpunished. "Listen, my love", he said, forcing his voice to stay steady and calm, well aware that it sounded strained this way, "I can't have that monster put his dirty hands on you all the time. I spared him earlier on because you asked me to, and I still don't understand why, but there must be an end to it. And there will be. I will end this once and for all, Christine, all your fears, all the nightmares haunting you. I promised you to give you a world with no more night, and I mean it. This will be the last time he ever touched you, I promise. I'll make him see that he had better not meddle in my affairs. I'll have him know who he is up against." Raoul turned abruptly to glare at the door with clenched fists, willing the Phantom to appear again so he could show him what happened to twisted monsters who dared to molest his Christine. He would show him! He would make him realize who he was facing! Oh, how he regretted that he had not punched him in the nose earlier on! He should have, he should really have. And he would. As soon as the Phantom would dare to set foot in this room again, he would give him such a nosebleed that that foul creature would remember it for the whole rest of his miserable life!
"Raoul?" Christine's voice suddenly sounded… amused? Amused? No, it couldn't be! He would have to learn to interpret her tone correctly. "Raoul… I just realized… he's a she."
Raoul swivelled around on his heels to stare at her. "What? He looked male enough to me!"
Christine was smiling up at him, giggling softly. "That's because you didn't look closely enough."
What was going on? Raoul didn't understand a word of it. She must be making fun of him, there was no other explanation. "Christine, I'm serious", he said impatiently. "This is no time for silly jokes, and you won't stop me by pretending the Phantom is a woman."
"What? Oh, Raoul!" Christine burst out laughing, and although Raoul was actually indignant about her reaction, he could not help enjoying the sweet sound of her laughter. "Of course he's not a woman! I'm talking of the dog!"
"Oh." Raoul felt his shoulders sagging. He should have guessed so. Of course she could not have meant the Phantom; it had been rather obvious. Why hadn't it occurred to him? He felt foolish.
Because it was unimportant. Because it was absolutely unimportant if the dog was male or female if there was a murdering madman around, and leaving such vivid red marks on his beloved's neck! "Christine, you're just distracting me! I mean to deal with that monster stalking you, and you start talking about a dog! Look, as much as I enjoy fooling around with you, currently I'm not in the mood –"
He was interrupted by Madame Giry striding in, her expression sterner than ever. "Meg is gone", she said grimly. "And I have a pretty good idea where, too."
