Erik glanced at the façade, as the person he was waiting for exited the building. As usual, in a strictly professional way, he disliked leaving his place, but this seemed to be the best way to avoid those haunting memories. It might have seemed a simple thing to anyone but for him, emerging from his sanctuary to face the world and the society who had both ostracized and mistreated him so badly since he could remember, was extremely hard.

'Well, well, couldn't someone else come here for you today? I was expecting your courier. This is a most surprising change of attitude, Monsieur.'

The man who came to welcome him was in his forties, with dark hair and a warm expression.

Erik's lips curved into a nearly imperceptible one-sided smile. 'It was not my intention to come here personally, of course, but you told me it was an urgent matter…'

His interlocutor nodded. 'Indeed, it is urgent. Oh, please, let's go inside. We shall discuss this matter of ours in my private office…'

Once they came inside, they stopped in front of a door on which a metallic plaque read: 'Jacob Flaubert'. The door silently closed after them.

Christine shyly entered the dining-room. There was no one new, only the two kind ladies who had welcomed her so warmly: Marie and Emma. She was very grateful for their hospitality but, with every passing minute, she only wished to get out of there…and try to find him.

Breakfast time flied pretty quickly, while she tried to keep up with her hostesses' nonsensical chitchat. The pieces of personal information she dropped through the somehow forced conversation were neither particularly interesting nor endangering for herself, as she did not want to gain too much attention in a completely unknown and unsafe surrounding.

'You will feel quite comfortable here as times goes by', said Emma, smiling. 'It's all too normal that the first few days you feel restless, confused and a little bit lost but we'll be doing everything we can to help you'.

Christine smiled, as she finished her breakfast. 'You've been very kind to me… I don't know how I could repay you…'

"There is nothing to repay, dear. When you are well rested we will be introducing you to everyone so you can feel more integrated and at your ease. There are so many people you may like to meet around here…'

Christine folded her napkin and stood up, excusing herself. 'It has been a most pleasant conversation but, if you don't mind, I have some matters to attend to and I would not like to put them off any longer…'

Without even waiting to see the women's reaction, she left the dining-room. Christine went to her room, took a foulard and used it to cover her long curly hair and part of her neck and stopped to catch her breathe only when she found herself far from the residence.

A horse carriage passed her by, so she decided to stop it. After indicating the concrete address to the driver, she couldn't help the feeling of anticipation that caused the idea of coming back to the place that had been her home during many months. Christine pulled out her engagement ring out of the little pocket of her coat, remembering that she had worn it once hanging in a chain around her neck in the vain attempt to hide it from sharp eyes, to conceal the truth of her unannounced marriage from him. However, the thing she could remember more clearly of that night was precisely the shock of seeing him descending the stairs…his deep red costume…his dark, intimidating glare…

She could not stay there any longer. No, she did not think staying in that residence, closed in with her memories, was a good idea…

But, alas, flashes of her dream yet danced in her mind's eye. She closed her eyelids momentarily.

Yes, he should hate her. Her leaving was the last straw that revealed the painful truth he had been trying to deny. And the mere idea that she had caused him so much suffering pained her wholeheartedly, especially when she believed she deserved every bit of hatred she was choking on since that night.

She sighed and looked through the window. The overcast sky, the landscape and a small residence were the only things she had left. A gloomy expression fell over her features when she understood the meaning of that statement. Why? Why had she made such a mistaken choice? Why couldn't she see what she really had befote her eyes? At that moment, the only thing she prayed God was that he were alive. Just alive, because if he were dead, the best part of herself would have died with him.

Two cups of steaming coffee were lying on the table. Jacob was in front of the person who had offered his astonishing and artistic hands through the last copule of months. He had met him in a very peculiar way, he recalled, while observing him across the desk.

One night, as he was getting home from his workplace, he found a man's figure, dark, tall and impeccably cloaked, watching the chapel before him. He looked like the kind of person he required…

He caught his attention. Perhaps, too directly.

'Do you like it? It's really beautiful… I see you are interested in architecture. Maybe you would like to know…'

He did not have time to continue his persuasion tactics. A few minutes later, he felt a gloved hand tight around his neck, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

'I do not speak with strangers like you. What is more, I try to avoid them at all costs,' he threatened.

Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, partly because of the tremors that were shaking him. 'I didn't mean to disturb you…' Words barely came out of his constricted throat. 'Monsieur, I promise…I simply thought you were interested in it and…if you don't harm me, I could explain it to you gladly'. He swallowed audibly, fearing for his life.

Erik seemed to consider the offer carefully and released him little by little. He did not trust people but that poor babbling man's words sounded sincere.

Jacob sighed in relief. Now he could see his aggressor clearly. He could have sworn that he was in front of a true gentleman, at least by the looks of his garments: black made-to-measure trousers that fitted his figure, an elegant shirt and a tailored waistcoat. The black coat and matched fedora enhanced the mysterious allure that emanated from him. He only noticed he had been impolitely staring his assaultant because the stranger himself was giving him a lop-sided grin and was glaring challengingly at him. It was definitely the smartest weird fellow he had ever seen.

'So…' his voice was deep, suave but demanding all the same. 'What was that explanation you were rambling about?' He fixed his attentive eyes on him, patiently waiting for his reply.

Monsieur Flaubert looked at him in the kindest way he could. 'Well… Since you were watching so intently the façade, it looked like you had some special interest in architecture. Maybe you could help me. I need someone with your fascination for the art of designing and building… of course, if you esteem it possible and are not offended by my forwardness, Monsieur.'

And from that moment on, they started working together. From the solitude of his home, Erik designed the plans (each one more impressive and talented than the one before) and send them to him with Angie, a young maid who served him as his courier and the one in charge of keeping his house clean and tidy. For some strange reason, he did not like been seeing in public but this time he had accepted coming himself. Something really exceptional…

Erik held his coffee, looking at Jacob, quite interested. 'I finished it a couple of nights ago and I've handed it on time, as usual.' He took a sip of his coffee and left the cup on the table. Calmly, he extracted the cardboard tube where he kept the plans from his coat.

Jacob opened it in concentration and examined the drawings with utter enthrallment. Erik felt the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of the ecstasic amazement in his colleague's face. While he waited for the spoken words of approval, he had a peek at the paper that rested on Flaubert's desk.

'The Vicomte de Chagny, one of France's most illustrious figures, was murdered two days ago by insurgents of the Commune…'

Erik froze in his seat. So, that was the reason why Christine had been running away…