I know the chapters are not that good right now, but I really think they will become more interesting and intriguing! So bear with me!
There's too much info to give in a chapter while keeping them in character, and moving the plot forward. I had much trouble writing this chapter! I'll understand if the chapter is in kind words…disagreeable. All should be reviled in time though.
Chapter nine
"I know not what you value, Monsieur but whatever I own, which I must admit is not much, is yours. This book is the most valuable thing I own... worth about three hundred francs, first addition. And I'm sure, if we find it, my sword as well will be worth something…" She paused, searching for words.
"I am in your debt, I owe you my life." These words seemed to cost every ounce of pride in her being, until she had none left.
"No," The Phantom replied darkly.
"You owe me nothing. Call the fact you are still living my attempt to redeem myself from the harm I caused you on our first encounter."
The images of that night flooded back to her, and she looked up at this unblinking phantom's eyes. She had almost forgotten about their duel in the theater. It was only now that she discerned the same man who had almost taken her life with the man who had helped her and who was now at her side, mask glowing as maliciously as it did a week ago. But now Manon could not fear him, respect him perhaps, but not fear him.
There was silence between them for a few moments. Then Manon spoke,
"I still feel obliged, Monsieur; accept this book, my sword-"
"What good is a talented swordsman without her sword?" Was the response.
As Manon looked up at his expressionless face she could not help but feel soft satisfying pride fill her chest.
"Please, then the book." She said quickly, offering the book gently to him. The phantom accepted it tenderly, fingers caressing the worn bindings and the yellowing pages. Manon looked on, curious of his tenderness.
And to Manon's almost complete satisfaction, he said,
"I will accept the book, but only to borrow. It had been long since I have last read a good book. When I finish shortly, I will return it to you."
"But, Monsieur" She hesitated looking at uncertainly at her entwining fingers.
"I have no use for it, you see, I cannot read." The phantom stared at her incredulously in his own serene way. Though her speech was somewhat roughened by the ghastly streets of what was the underprivileged Paris, it was none the less elegant. "So there is no point in me keeping it" she continued.
Once again there was silence between them.
So many questions screamed in her mind at that moment. God, what am I doing here? Why can't I just become well and leave? Who is this man, really? Once again she felt overwhelmed; her mind seemed to be swirling in mist.
The Phantoms cool voice cut through the fog like a knife.
"Why were they after you?" He asked. She immediately knew what he meant.
"Thievery, I stole bread" She said simply, regaining her composure, looking as innocent as she could.
"Certainly, the police do not chaise and shoot at a woman for thievery alone,"
"Thievery is all I am guilty of monsieur, I assure you." she lied, gathering enough courage to look him in the eye.
Yet in her mind a malicious voice shouted, Murderer.