Chapter 5
The sun was well past its zenith by the time the carriage stopped again. Christine had seen an ancient pile of rocks in the distance, but as the carriage drew closer, she realized it was in fact a building from the medieval past. A worn cross set in the archway told her that she was on holy ground once again. Where was she?
Christine did not wait for the coachman to open the door for her. As she stepped from the cab, she was astonished to see a tiny Carmelite nun swiftly approach her. The nun took Christine's hands in warm greeting.
"Welcome, my child. We have been waiting for you." The driver suddenly signaled his team to pull away. Christine lost her chance to finally see his face in the cloud of dust that the carriage kicked up.
"Sister, how do you know me? Why have I been brought here?" Christine was again struck by the unreality of the situation. This day was turning out rather like a cheap romance novel…
"Come inside, Christine. All will be made clear to you." The nun led Christine through the vaulted passageways of the cloister. Their footsteps echoed in the cool convent air.
"My name is Sister Therese, Christine. We have a mutual acquaintance in Antoinette Giry, though of course, her maiden name was Renouille. I was in the ballet with Antoinette, yes, at the same Opera Populaire that used to be your home. What a pity about the fire." Christine had to hurry to keep up with the bustling prioress through the winding corridors. "Here, my dear. This room has been prepared for you."
Sister Therese took one of the keys from the belt at her habit's waist and opened a wooden door. The room was small but immaculate, with a clean window that overlooked the almond grove behind the convent. A narrow bed sported fresh linen sheets, a simple desk held a mirror, a hairbrush and a bowl of flowers. A wardrobe's door stood ajar, revealing three new dresses and other articles of clothing.
Christine was stunned. "Sister, why have you done all this for me? How do I deserve--" Christine was cut off by Sister Therese's finger on her mouth.
"Shush, now. This was done by one who knew you needed it. Here," she chortled as she drew a note from the folds of her habit, "this should explain everything to you."
Christine took the missive with trembling hands. As she opened it, she recognized the elegant, spidery handwriting, though she had never expected to see it again. Christine lurched for the chair and clasped the letter to her breast. Finally, she began to read:
My only love,
If you are reading this, then you are not yet the wife of Raoul de Chagny. I beg you to think over the choices that are before you. If you look in the little desk, you will find something that gives you many more possibilities.
Christine opened the desk's drawer. A large vellum envelope waited with her name on it. She tore it open. It was money. So much money! Two-hundred-fifty thousand francs—an impossible sum! She looked back down at the letter.
I wish you to know that I will always ensure the security of Mme. Giry and her daughter. You must never think that you must compromise yourself for the benefit of those you love.
Your talent and your sweet spirit must have wings to fly. Like a fool, I forgot that and tried to take away your self-determination. I know that I have much to ask your pardon for, and that I will never merit it. Yet I beg it of you anyway. Please be confident that I shall never impose upon your time again.
Perhaps one day, you will forgive me.
Yours,
O.G.
Christine gently placed the letter on the bed. She knew that she should cry. Any girl would. Sister Therese pulled a linen handkerchief from her pocket and offered it to the young woman, still clad in the stiff wedding dress. But Christine did not accept it.
She threw back her head and laughed! Christine let out peals of laughter, rocking and bending as much as her corset would permit. At length, she took the handkerchief in order to wipe the tears of laughter that escaped from the corners of her eyes.
"Oh, please forgive me, Sister. I feel like I have been born again. This is the morning of my life." Christine stilled for a moment. "I must find him. Tell me where he is."
Sister Therese bit her lip. This was the most romantic situation she had ever seen! But she had made a promise to the masked man, and she would not be made a liar. Oh Lord, show her a way to reunite these young people!
"I gave my word, Christine. He asked me not to tell you."
"He was here?" Christine began to twist her fingers in that habitual way. "He's here now?" The girl looked so desperate that Sister Therese racked her brain to find a way to tell her without breaking her sacred pledge.
"Let me tell you about our convent," the prioress began. "The main cloister was built in the year of Our Lord 1172. We have seventy three sisters among us and thirteen postulants…" Christine just stared at the nun in disbelief. "Pay attention, child! We keep cattle and sheep, a lovely kitchen garden and a thriving almond grove, which has provided us with a fine income for almost one hundred years."
Sister Therese came close to the bewildered young woman, lowering her voice so that Christine was sure to take her meaning.
"There is a brook that runs through the almond grove. A thirsty man, or a thirsty team of horses, could find satisfaction there…" Well now, that was almost a broken promise. Sister Therese calculated that it would be worth the penance.
Christine flew to the little window. Yes, she could see the almond grove. The lowering sun over the brook. Four tired horses. And yes, in the distance, the tiny figure of a man.
A masked man.
