"And with that kiss, the prince awoke the beautiful Aurora from her eternal slumbers. She had been saved from the evil curse placed upon her. What a feast their wedding was! There were princes and princesses from all over the country, and beautiful fireworks, and the wicked witch was banished to her dark castle, to live alone and learn from her wicked ways, never to bother mankind again..."

As she was reading the story to Céline she realised she would never read fairytales as she had long ago. She had come to learn life was not made out of fairytales, and the beautiful people always seemed to win. For the wicked witch was never pretty, and never loved...

"Madama? Scusi...I bring a message from the Maestro." Franca stood behind her, hesitant to break up the happy moment between mother and daughter.

"Yes, what is it Franca?" She breathed in deep, not wanting Franca to notice how much she had longed to hear from him.

"The Maestro bids you join him for dinner this evening. He will expect you in his chambers at eight." Expect...apparently this was not an open invitation. He was summoning her. Still, she longed to speak with him, and nodded.

"You may tell him I will join him as soon as Céline is asleep."

And so there she stood, in front of the vanity, twirling around, nervously fringing a loose curl. She had decided on a soft cognac coloured evening gown, beautifully decorated with champagne coloured embroideries. Her hair was put up with small diamond pins, leaving some room for her curls to jump out into her neckline. She bit her lips and rubbed her cheeks, scolding herself for her sickly composure. Still, it would have to do. She quickly turned around, making her way to the corridor. As she passed through her sitting room she once more realised how exquisite her living accommodations had been prepared. This could not have been done over night...these rooms had been patiently awaiting her arrival for a long time. As she walked into the nursery, she found Nicole attempting to put some humility to Céline's curls, wet from their bath.

"It is hopeless, Madame! This head refuses to be tamed!" She laughed at her own attempts as did Céline.

"It's alright Nicole, when it reaches more length we can pull it from her face. Till then... well I doubt any suitors will be coming for her any time soon!"

She gave Céline a firm look. "And why, pray, are you not yet in bed?" She suddenly remembered it had not been too long since someone had spoken those exact words to her. "Go on now, say your prayers, ma chère!"

Céline rushed to the side of her bed, kneeling and folding her little hands in front of her. "Dear Father in heaven, watch over our souls as we lay down to sleep, let us wake to a new..." "and blessed" helped Christine, "and blessed day, watch over grand père and papa with you in heaven, amen."

Christine crossed with her before kissing her fervently and tugging her in bed.

"Goodnight my angel."

"Goodnight maman."

As she walked to the door, she heard Céline call out to her.

"Maman!"

"Yes, my sweet?"

"I like it here maman! It smells nice here!" Christine smiled, Céline's room had honeysuckle growing just outside her window.

"But it is so dark at night..." She saw the little girl pouting.

"It is only the darkness of night Céline, it is nothing to be frightened of. If you are good and go to sleep like a big girl, I will allow Nicole to leave the candle on for you."

Céline smiled at the idea. "Bonsoir maman." and with that she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to convince Christine she was making every effort to fall asleep as quickly as possible. Once more the sleepy voice rang out to her.

"Maman?"

"Céline?"

"You look very pretty maman!" And with that, she started making her way across the hall...

Renzo gave a quick knock on the door before quietly opening it. "Madama de Chagny is here, Maestro."

Apparently he received some sign of approval from inside, for he gave Christine a friendly smile before inviting her to step in through the large mahogany doorway. This was the first time Christine entered his chambers, but it felt familiar. Many accents in the decoration had been brought from Paris, and it made her feel slightly more comfortable. The table was richly set, both in tableware as in dish. The doors to the balcony were opened behind the thick burgundy velvet curtains, and the sounds of Venice street life vaguely drifted in. On the other side a fire had been lit as to ensure she would not be cold during dinner.

By the fire she saw him, staring into the flames as if uncertain to turn around. When he finally did, upon hearing Renzo closing the door, he stood in awe for a moment. She looked well. The dress was as fine on her as he had immagined it a thousand times in his dreams and her face, though pale, seemed to shimmer with a pleasant warmth in the soft light of the fire. For some reason she curtsied at him. It felt right, as if starting a new acquaintance. He did not return the gesture, but slowly started walking in her direction.

"Your daughter is comfortable in her new surroundings?"

"She is very well, I thank you. She seems to have taken quite a liking to Venice."

He did not reply, but invited her to the table with a simple gesture of his hand. Ever so much the distinguished gentleman, he helped her to her seat before sitting down himself.

For a while they just sat there, not really certain of how the conversation should proceed.

"I wanted to appologise, for raising my voice at you the other night. You were still very weak and unaware of the events that had befallen you during your illness. It was not my intention to upset you any further."

She lifted her head from nervously looking down at her hands. "And what did you say to me that I did not deserve? I asked for your honesty and you gave it to me. You...found me in my deepest despair and I may safely say I owe my life to your return to Paris. You came to my aid when you had every right to deny me, and I'm eternally indebted to you for it."

Again the silence. Her words had convinced him she had indeed grown, the Christine he knew before would not have spoken so wisely.

"How do you find your accommodation? I trust you have everything you require at hand?" He had changed the subject very abrupt.

"It owes a beauty beyond anything I've ever known, Monsieur. I am indeed very comfortable. I enjoy the warmth of this place, of the city, of its people."

He seemed relieved to hear it and much lighter by heart, he commenced his dinner. She followed his example, happy she was saved from speaking any further for a while.

"Why Venice?" Her question had come so abruptly it nearly caused him to choke on his food. "Madame?"

"Why have you come here?"

"It seemed as good a place as any. The climate, the food, the people. I had the opportunity to continue my work as an architect here and I took it."

"I was very sorry to hear of your husband's departure." Now it was Christine's turn to gasp for breath. Of course, she could not have immagined that subject would not be raised at any moment, she just hadn't expected it to be this night.

"I shall not pretend to mourn him, for I hate hypocrisy of any kind. I do realise however that his parting has caused you great grief, which saddens me." She did not know what else to do but to thank him for his...condolences? What other word could describe his attempts at conversation.

"The Vicomte at least must have died a happy man, knowing to be loved by his beautiful wife and...daughter." He suddenly noticed Christine did not reply.

"I am sure the Vicomte must have been proud to be sent such an angel from the heavens?" Before he saw her upset tears he had guessed the answer. The Vicomte had not been pleased at all.

"What would you wish to hear me say, Monsieur? My husband wanted a son. Expected a son. Prayed for a son every night. And had to make do with a daughter. A girl who would have no significance to the House of Chagny, no rights to his title, no continuation of his bloodline. He did not desire nor welcome her."

Her voice died away as if the words had tightened her throat and made it more difficult to breath. She had expected him to make a sneering remark, confirming all his warnings of Raoul before their marriage. However he did not. As she looked at him across the table, defiantly, daring him to shoot at her willingly, she noticed tears had come to his eyes. His stare was full of pity and disbelieve.

"How...could one receive such a gift from our Lord, such a picture of perfection, such loveliness...and deny it?"

He had wished for this child. How he would have welcomed her had she been his! She could read it from his face. She suddenly realised that in the short time they were in his house, he had come to care for Céline dearly and it flattered her. At first he had wanted nothing to do with her, being Raoul's child. She suddenly remembered his words to Raoul on that dreadful night. "Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours..." Would he think the same of Céline?

Suddenly he stood up from his chair. "I believe it best for you to return to your quarters, Madame. You still have a long road to take towards recovery. I would not want you to strain yourself too much as yet."

She knew very well his dismissal of her had nothing to do with her weak health. She could tell from every word and every gesture he was about to lose his composure in his anger for Raoul, and he was not prepared to do so in her presence.

"Christine..." He looked up at her and by the expression on his face she could tell that he was very tired. His breath had quickened, as if the sound of her name had unleashed emotions too deep to handle inside of him.

"Christine...why won't you call me by my given name as you used to? Why this cold politeness between us?" As she spoke, she realised she had made a mistake.

"You are no longer mine to have, Madame. I am no longer at liberty to be on a level of equality with you. You married, you brought his child into this world, and now you are forced to mourn your loss. Please allow me to do the same and no longer beg me for more than my devoted friendship. My heart will not permit it." With this he bowed, and was gone from the room.

Christine ran to her chambers, gasping for her breath to return, feeling cold and empty inside. She had lost her Angel and found it wounding her deeper that the loss of her husband had ever done...