Gerard had heard the grinding noise of the wall about to move, and he stationed himself next to the opening. He glanced around; he was alone. The wall moved back slowly.

Christine came out, slowly, still holding Erik's hand. She looked back at him as she stepped out into the daylight; he stayed in the shadows behind the wall. As Gerard watched, he bowed and kissed Christine's hand and then released it and turned away without ever seeing Gerard there. He stepped back and the wall closed tightly behind him.

"Oh! M. Carrière!" Christine exclaimed. "I didn't know you were there!"

"He let you go?" Gerard asked. "Are you all right?" The girl looked a little the worse for wear, in terms of her hair and her dress, but not overly traumatised.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fine!"

Suddenly they heard Philippe's voice on the stairs. "Gerard! Gerard, they said you were down here. What—" He came around the corner near the fountain and saw them both.

"Christine! Where have you been? What happened to you, my darling?" he demanded, running over to her. He gazed at her dishevelled hair, her wrinkled dress where Erik had been weeping on her shoulder, and her general air of confusion. "What happened?"

He caught sight of Jean-Claude, sitting near the Rotunda entrance, and ordered, "My carriage! Quickly!" The doorman leaped to obey.

"No, Philippe," Christine protested, but he ignored her.

He whipped off his coat and put it around her shoulders, brushing her hair out of her face with overly familiar hands. "No, Christine, I'm taking you home with me. You need someone to take care of you right now. We're going to get to the bottom of this, never fear!"

Knowing it was useless to argue, Christine exchanged glances with Gerard. He shook his head slightly—don't speak of Erik. She frowned; it wasn't as if he'd needed to tell her that! But with him she could be honest, and maybe the two of them could put their heads together and work out what to tell Philippe. With this thought in mind she submitted to Philippe's embrace, all the while keeping a death-grip on Gerard's arm.

When the carriage pulled up, Philippe got in first and then assisted her. If he was surprised that Gerard got in after Christine, he shrugged it off quickly and whipped up the horses.

The Chagny chateau was gorgeous, but Christine had no peace of mind to enjoy it. Philippe's questions were getting more and more impatient; Gerard tried to calm him, but he would have none of it.

"For the last time, Christine, where did he take you?" he demanded furiously. "And what did he do to you?"

"For the last time, Philippe, I can't tell you!" she cried. "I am not hurt in the least, and I'd be grateful if you'd stop asking me!"

He sighed, throwing down his coat. "Fine," he said flatly. "I'll have someone show you to your room."

"Philippe, I can't stay here! With you!" she protested, shocked. "What will people say?"

He rounded on her furiously. "You weren't so concerned about your reputation when you were alone with that masked fiend all night long! Well, mademoiselle, if you can spend the night with him, you can spend the night with me!"

Christine's appalled gasp was drowned out by Gerard's raised voice. "All right, that's enough!" He turned to Philippe. "The last thing she needs is to be hounded by you all the time she's here, Philippe. And don't you dare take advantage of her while she's under your roof, do you hear me? I know your ways, don't forget!"

Philippe flushed a little under this lecture, but bravado soon won out. "Who are you, to tell me what to do in my own house?" he asked. "Christine would never even have come to Paris if it weren't for me. I've even been thinking about giving my name to this dirty little opera wench--I think she at least owes me an answer to my questions!"

"I don't, though," Christine spoke up. She glanced up at him, her expression apologetic but determined. "I don't owe you, Philippe; I don't have to answer to you for anything."

In the face of his stony silence, she went on. "Ever since the Bistro, you've treated me like you own me. You don't. I'm the only one who has the right to choose where I spend my time, and with whom. Now," she stood up from his green velvet chair. "If you don't mind, I'd like to return to the city. Last night was proof that I have some rehearsing to do."

"An excellent idea, mademoiselle," Gerard approved. "If you don't mind, I think I shall accompany you; I have some unfinished business to take care of at the opera."

Their eyes met; both Gerard and Christine knew exactly what "unfinished business" he had to take care of: talking to Erik about her abduction.

Philippe noted the significance of their glance, and sighed. "Fine; I'll go and order the carriage." He ducked out of the room, but didn't leave.

He heard the murmuring of faint voices within. "Why did he let you go?" Gerard wanted to know.

"I don't know. He just… did. I was afraid he might not, too, after I saw his face."

"You saw his face?" Gerard sounded stunned. "He never lets anyone see his face."

Christine's voice grew fainter, and Philippe strained to hear. "I asked him to. I told him if he loved me, he should let me love him in return, and he showed me his face."

Philippe swore. Was she serious? How could she love that masked animal? Enough of this. He'd order the carriage and send her back to Paris this time, but next time he saw her he wouldn't let her go so easily! One way or another, Christine would be his.