Something was definitely wrong with me. I had to face this; I'd been avoiding it for too long. I knew that my health was failing; it had been for years, from lack of sleep and nutrition as well as substance abuse. But it was different lately. I hadn't simply passed out like that without warning since almost a year ago; I was just beginning to believe I was regaining my strength.
But now I often felt tired and dizzy. I was worried, and I knew I should go find Nadir or Madame Giry, or try to see a doctor. But I was stubbornly set on staying near Christine, even though I told myself I would not give in to my desire to go back to the way we were before. I would simply watch her and do my job as their architect.
A sort of battle was taking place in my head. I knew I still loved her. But I still could not forgive her, even after I saw how she, too, suffered. I was too afraid to open up to her again, too afraid of being severely hurt again… too afraid that this time, I'd be damaged beyond repair.
There was a knock at the door. "Come in," I said lazily, and the door handle turned. It was her. She rushed over.
"Oh, thank God! Are you alright? My husband tried to find a doctor last night, but we're new to this area and we weren't sure where to go. I'm so sorry. … You hadn't come around when I went to bed. I was very worried."
I waved away her apology. "It happens from time to time. It's nothing… i trust me /i ."
The last two words came out oddly emphasized. I watched in horror as her face went white, her mouth open slightly. How could I have forgotten? Christine knew my voice like no one else, and I hers. I'm sure she remembered it better than my face, and that's saying something.
"What's the matter?" I said gruffly, avoiding her eyes, and then added, not being able to help myself "You look as if you've seen a ghost."
She was staring at me in the most peculiar manner, searching me for some sort of sign. Then she seemed to snap out of it.
"Nothing, it's nothing… you just reminded me of someone, that's all."
She looked confused, out of place. Her curly hair was tied back neatly, her clothing conservative and proper, giving her the appearance of a little girl dressed in her mother's fancy clothing. It struck me as horribly tragic, suddenly, knowing her and knowing she could not be happy in this life she had chosen.
She was still very beautiful, and I felt myself falling in love with her again, despite myself. I found that my new mask, as well as being a stranger to her once more, gave me strange confidence. I touched her hand in a fatherly way and smiled. The way she relaxed was almost magic.
"It's all right. Let's go have breakfast. Can you cook?"
Her eyes lit up. "Well, I can try… I mean, yes, I do. Just, well… not always well. I mean, Raoul, my husband, doesn't seem to mind it, or anything." She sensed that she was rambling. "I'm sorry, I'm talking too much. Let's go downstairs."
On the way down she kept smiling at me and talking about what we could have for breakfast, as well as what she'd like to see me do with the place. It seemed almost as if she were making up for the long silence that had been her marriage by telling me whatever came into her head. I didn't mind the constant talk. God knows I, too, had been lonely since she left me. It was always funny to me that Raoul and Madame Giry and whoever else thought that I lured Christine to me with my voice. The truth is, she lured me to her first, with hers. And I was as intoxicated by the mere sound of it as ever.