Chapter 4: Isabelle

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, he sprang up in response and draped his cloak over his shoulders and more importantly, over his face. He saw the knob twist and his heart immediately pictured Christine opening that door and throwing herself into an embrace with him. He shook his head and prepared for the worst. The door creaked slowly and a young woman entered the room.

Erik squinted as if he recognized her. The woman was clearly a prostitute but young, strong looking, and strikingly beautiful. The girl gasped when she saw him at first but then smiled.

"Erik?" She whispered his name with such beautiful tonality that he immediately knew who this woman was.

"Isabelle?" She smiled at him and walked up to him. He felt strange seeing her after all of these years. Isabelle used to dance at the opera populaire until she was too old and was asked to leave. Erik had run into her while leaving the opera house one evening and somehow become quick friends with her. He assumed she only felt sorry for him and ignored her fear to make him comfortable. In reality, Isabelle missed Erik when she began working on the street.

"Erik, I knew it was you. No other human being walks like that." She shyly put her hand on his shoulder and embraced him. He grew stiff at this simple act of human affection and caught a whiff of her hair. He could sense how thin and frail she was; she used to be so strong when she danced. He always had thought she was once of the best dancers; even better than little Meg Giry. His heart felt for her and the ill that she must give herself to men who did not love her.

"Isabelle, you disappoint me." They parted and she suddenly looked ashamed.

"Perhaps… I guarantee you that I disappoint myself more. Unfortunately I have accepted my place and appreciate the new skills I have acquired." She winked at him mischievously and Erik could feel himself blush under his cloak. She sensed his discomfort and eased off a little bit.

"I'm sorry Erik; I don't mean to treat you like that. I sometimes forget what I was before this life. That brings me to why I came up to see you, I saw you slip into the hotel. What are you doing here; why on earth did you leave the opera?"

He sighed and gestured for her to sit on the bed while he sat at a distance in a chair. This story would be fairly time consuming. He told her about the new managers, about Christine, the Vicomte de Changy, his temporary insanity, his love, his hate, his jealousy, and destroyed lair. Isabelle listened to him very well and did not interrupt or comment. She sat on his bed, her legs crossed in a lady-like fashion, her expression changing many times during his story. He thought he saw her brow furrow a bit when he told her how Christine left him, but he was not sure.

During his story, he watched her. She really was a beautiful woman who was thin and feminine looking with jade green eyes and long, slightly matted, but a deep shade of red. When she danced, she used to stick out like a sore thumb on the stage. After he finished his story, she had some tears in her eyes which surprised him. She stepped off the bed and knelt at his feet clasping her hands over his. Erik felt his weakness overtaking him.

She stroked his hands, "I cannot believe what has happened to you. I can't believe that a woman… would… oh Erik I cannot even say it…" she trailed off as more tears flowed down her rouged cheeks. Her compassion astounded him.

"Please don't cry for me, I don't deserve it." Then he paused. "What can you not believe about a woman?"

She shifted in her crouched position and then sighed, "Oh Erik, I do not want to raise your hopes or hurt you any more than you have been."
He was confused, "Isabelle I don't understand, but I don't much more can hurt me now."

Isabelle squeezed his hands affectionately, "Alright, I won't lie to you. I cannot believe a woman would give up the man she loved for a title."
Erik sat up in shock. What had she said? He responded coolly, "Isabelle, Christine did not love me. She loved her Vicomte."

Isabelle continued to massage his hands and seemed fixed upon them as she dreamily responded, "I don't think so Erik. I think she was afraid of what loving you meant and got scared. She was too naïve to handle you."

Erik stiffened in his chair. It could not be true and he wouldn't believe it. He wrested his hands from her grip and stood up. Isabelle looked hurt but let him pace the room. She was a tall woman and the top of her head nearly reached his chin. He ignored her presence while he settled her thoughts. He finally verbalized his unrest,

"But why? Why would she hurt me if she loved me? Better yet why did she leave? Isabelle, I can't handle this. She is all that I think about! All the time, all I want it to hold her and protect her and she…"

He stopped and slumped his shoulders. He bit his lip to stop the tears but a few came anyways. Isabelle stood opposite of him and timidly put her hand on his quivering shoulder. Her touch surprised him and he turned around and they locked eyes. Something in her eyes bewildered him. She looked at him with a longing he recognized. Had the women in this city gone insane? He brushed past her and sat back down in the chair.