Hey, hey, it's a lawsuit: if you think I own them or claim them, then you're very silly.

Nadir and Christine stayed up very late talking. Christine felt comforted by her ability to talk about Erik unhindered. Clutching a cup of hot tea that Nadir constantly refilled for her, she alternately laughed and cried as Nadir told her stories from Persia.

Nadir also spoke of his wife.

"We loved each other in a way one is lucky to love once in a lifetime. You should have seen me before! I was reserved, serious-," Christine silently wondered how Nadir could be more serious than he was now, but decided it didn't matter, "- and then she came along. Then our son. Losing him was so hard after my wife."

"I'm sorry," Christine murmured.

"No, I am. And I was selfish. I thought what she and I had was unique only to us. When Erik fell in love with you, I was jealous. I forgot how love can change a person and saw only his past."

"He was still violent," Christine reminded him, shuddering inwardly at the memories of torn music and tales of the torture chamber that was all too close to the drawing room they had been sitting in.

"My dear, you've no idea how much control he exercised when you were around. His anger has deep roots, but he tried. And instead of helping him, I held him back."

"What?"

"Erik was a genius. He could figure out anything in the universe, but never love. I could have encouraged him, helped him court you in a conventional manner, but I thought you loved Raoul."

"I thought so, too. Nadir, why did he hang himself? Why not a drug, if he had to do anything to himself at all?"

"You'll have to ask him yourself one day."

"You believe he repented and found Heaven, Nadir? Or that I'm so responsible for his death that I've no longer any hope of salvation?"

Nadir hesitated for a moment before responding. "Under my religion, you are both infidels simply because you trust Christ instead of Allah. But he did speak favorably of salvation after you left. From your perspective, Christine…I can't imagine Erik didn't pay his price a hundredfold on earth."

Christine felt some comfort in his statement, but her next words came out as a yawn.

"Forgive me, Mme. It is past Midnight," Nadir said, noting the hour. "You have a train to board tomorrow?"

"At noon, yes. Is there an inn nearby?"

"Of course, but it's terribly low-class. You are invited to stay here, and have breakfast in the morning. There's plenty of room."

"Thank you. May I help you clean up the tea?"

"Certainly not. I would never permit a guest to do such a thing. I can handle it myself. Christine, stop looking so surprised, surely you've noticed by now I employ no servants?"

"No?"

"I prefer my privacy," he said. "Come, your room is this way."

Nadir led Christine down a hall and unlocked one of the doors. She wondered privately if all the doors were locked.

"There is a dressing room off this room," Nadir said, motioning in the general direction. "I- well. There are clothes belonging to you already in there. These weeks have been so hard, and I did not want to throw them away." Nadir kissed her hand and held her gaze for a moment. "Goodnight, Mme."

"Goodnight," Christine said, closing the door. The sight of her nightgown, the one she always wore during her visits below the lake, made her shake. It was as if nothing had changed when everything did. She dressed for bed and took a seat at the vanity, unsurprised to see beauty supplies adorning its surface.

She wondered if Nadir was in love with her. It wasn't unlikely, after all, she was the only other person close to his departed friend. Solidarity in such matters often leads to attraction. Throughout their conversation and dinner, she'd caught Nadir studying her carefully, listening with great intent, and of course, he had kissed her hand. Was his discourse on not making a mistake with love some sort of clue?

Christine was quite sure marrying Raoul was out of the question, but was equally certain she did not want to become involved with Nadir. He was a good man, but after Erik, being good simply wasn't good enough. She wondered if she'd ever feel normally about another human being, about relationships, again. Soon, fatigue took over, and Christine slept without dreaming.