A/N: This chapter picks up one week after the last chapters with Anne, Erik Sr., and little Erik. It was a very happy week.

Erik:

"I'm too happy, Daroga—so happy that I am mortally afraid. It's perilous, being so happy. How can it continue? God surely will not allow it."

On this, my second journey to Lyons, eight days after the first, I had invited Nadir along. I had been neglecting him of late, for I had been spending most of my waking hours with my family. I thought I had been conversing with him quite normally about various matters, but it seemed I had not, for my friend had said, good-humouredly, that I might as well talk about what I was thinking about, because my sentences tended to trail off without proper conclusions.

When I told him, he laughed and replied, "What is it you think will happen?"

"I don't know. Perhaps I'll return to find my son has been run down in the carriage-way and killed—or that Anne ate a bad mushroom and is dying of it. Something…"

"You're not afraid something will happen to you?" he asked.

"No. Not in the least, because then I wouldn't be able to suffer, it would all be over. I wish we could have brought the boy."

"He's too young to travel so far without his mother."

"I know, I know." When he realized I was going away on a train, he had thrown himself at my legs, wailing, "No, Da! Don't go! You got to stay along of us, you promised!" It was only with great difficulty that he had been persuaded to let go, so strong was his conviction that my departure meant I was leaving for years, not hours.

His distress was so wretched, so intense, that it actually evoked a physical ache in my chest, in sympathy.

"Last night, he was so tired out that he fell asleep on the settee, in all his clothes. I had to carry him to bed, and help Anne undress him and put his nightshirt on for him. He barely stirred, he was so deep asleep. He was as limp as a rag doll. I unlaced his shoe, and it was so small, it fit into the palm of my hand, Daroga—such a little shoe! I have large hands, but still, it was so small. I nearly burst into tears over it, that battered little brown shoe, with frayed laces! —and Anne!

"Two days ago, I came across her frowning over the wine merchant's listing, giving herself a headache. When I told her I could help, knowing wines as I do, she—it was like the sun coming out from behind clouds. We're going to be married in the church, in three days, and I'm terrified—terrified that something will happen, that something will go wrong…"

If there was a heaven, and it did not smell of good food being made, if there were no braided rugs on the floors with dogs that curl up on them, if the furniture was not a little shabby with use, so it didn't matter if it got a bit more so, if it was not identical in every way to the kitchen house, then I didn't want any of it. I knew what my heaven consisted of.

I now knew what it was the drugs were trying to counterfeit. Not the transports of physical ecstasy, but the tranquility of knowing that everything was all right—that I could sit at the table in the kitchen house, at meal times, and no one would start or stare—that afterward, I could spend the evening with my family, outside or in, with Amelié and Minna and old Sophie, if they chose, with Anne crocheting or resting while I gave my son a violin lesson, or read out loud to them, Truffle drooling gently on my shoe, and it would still be all right.

Anne's soft voice would not turn hard-edged, her hand would not lift to strike anyone, and, at the end of the evening, after we had put our son to bed, she would walk with me back to the guest cottage, my arm around her waist. She would lean against me, just a little, and I could feel the yielding weight of her breasts, smell her hair, and when I made to kiss her, she would turn her face up to me, and smile, before our lips met. Sometimes we kissed at every other step we took…When we were married, she would not turn back at the door, and leave me to go in alone. She would not be stiff and silent, I believed that.

Hour upon hour had passed as I lived that week—, and like an apprentice spinner who suddenly learns the knack that turns out a fine, long, strong, even thread, I, as amazed as I was, began to relax.

I began the day by going over for breakfast early in the morning, helping my son do the tasks his mother set him, and then playing with him, tossing a ball back and forth in the yard, with the dog running back and forth along with it, or throwing sticks for her to chase. We went into the fringes of the woods, where we made mud huts for the toads on the banks of the rivulet that flowed from under the springhouse—and deeper in, where, when I noticed him squirming and crossing his legs, I convinced him a water closet wasn't the only place he could relieve himself. His mother was raising him to be a little too civilized. I had to demonstrate, to show him the world wouldn't end.

Then it was back for our lunch, and in the afternoon, while the kitchen bustled, I worked—I wrote music, composed advertisements for my inquiry service—such was the title I gave to my new business— sent off another letter to Jules, and more. I fielded off the curious townsfolk, placed the order with the wine-merchant, and told the poulterer that his fowl were unacceptable.

On Anne's afternoons off, while the boy was having his first lessons with Father Anselm—a man verging on elderly, with one eye that was perpetually looking sharply inward at his nose, a disconcerting thing to behold—she and I went for walks—once in the countryside, to the lily-pond, and around the fields, and once in town, where we viewed the property she was thinking of turning into a second location. I wore my mask when we were outside, or in company, and left it off when we were alone together.

And nothing horrible happened. The townspeople stared, but they were respectful.

"Things are going too well, Nadir. I'm very frightened." I repeated to him, as the train sped onward, to Lyons.

"I don't know what I can do to help you, Erik." he said, half-exasperated, half-amused. "Not when you have no problems at all…"

A/N: Next chapter should get us back into some action. I hope it will come to me soon.

This chapter is dedicated to Erik for President, whose 16th birthday happened very recently. It was she who insisted that Erik Sr. should show little Erik it was okay to pee in the woods.

Hello, every one! I just lived through the yearly inventory at my workplace. It was another rough week, but I fervently hope the bumpy spots are behind me now. (Yeah, right!)

Hi to Lucia: You have to read very carefully. There are some important clues salted around.

RozzandMaya: Raoul had to fulfill the terms of his Naval service in the Arctic, and was consequently gone for a year… Minion has really taken off. I think you'll find it gets very interesting in later chapters.

Josette: Thank you!

Sat-Isis: Wait and see, wait and see!

Many, many thanks also to Masqueradingthroughlife, Polly Moopers, Allegratree, HDKingsbury (will e-mail one of these days!) Lothloriel, Mad Lizzy, Sue Raven, awoman, Nota Lone and An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin!