Chapter Six

Oh, Christine.

As I sit in the drawing room, reading, you enter, and come to kneel by my side.

"Erik?" you whisper shyly. "Tell me a story?"

I set down my book without a qualm and begin to tell you an old Arabic folktale. You've heard it dozens of times before, but I know it is one of your favorites.

A small smile graces your lips as I weave the tale for you once again, my smooth voice becoming the only sound to be heard throughout the house.

I finish, and reach out to pat your hand, which has come to rest on the arm of my chair.

"You must be tired now, my sweet."

You clear your throat slightly, as if to stiffen some unknown resolve, before replying, "No, Erik."

"Another story, then?"

"No. . . I must talk to you."

"Proceed."

You glance away, as if thinking a moment, before speaking. "Erik. . . it has been very difficult to forgive you, for what you did on the night of my last performance."

A silence, as my surprise at your chosen topic settles in. "Yes. . . It would be. I lost my head, Christine. I realize that is not an appropriate explanation for what I did, but it is the truth."

"Yes. . . I know. . . You are not a bad man, Erik."

I am surprised to find tears gathering in your eyes. "I am not. . .?"

"No. No, you are not. I was blinded, by what everyone else said. . . But I know you better than they do, and I alone know that you are a good man."

"I suppose so," I reply, wondering where you are going with this.

"And I pray that you can forgive me, for being led astray so easily, by those who know nothing. . ." A single tear rolls down your cheek, and I gently wipe it away. You smile slightly.

"I forgive you, Christine, for anything you have ever done wrong to me, if you'll forgive me for all the horrible things I've done to you."

"Oh, Erik!" you exclaim. "Teaching me to sing? Is that horrible? Music is my salvation! I could not live without it! I cannot properly express my thanks to you for that. . ." You sniffle, before continuing, "I do forgive you, Erik, truly I do."

"Alright then," I say. "No more tears, then, dear, it's alright. . ."

You stop crying and manage a smile that I cannot help but return.

"I am ready to accept the responsibility of being your wife now, Erik," you say, sounding quite official. "It is time now that I kept our vows. And Erik?"

"Yes, Christine?"

"Can we. . . begin to sing again? I miss it so."

"If you so desire it, then certainly."

You smile once more, and gaze into my eyes, before replying, "Thank you, Erik."

"Of course. Anything for you Christine."

"Yes. . . I know. . ." You rise to your tiny feet, and all too quickly, raise the corner of my mask just enough so that you can place a kiss on my cheek.

I stare at you as you carefully replace the mask as it was prior to your kiss, and find myself whispering, "Christine. . ."

In reply, I receive only a simple, "Goodnight, Erik."