Chapter 2
At first I wished to remain silent;
Then, believe me, you would never
have known my shame, never!
O yes, I swore to lock within my breast
this avowal of a mad and ardent passion.
Alas, I have not the strength to subdue my heart!
-Eugene Onegin, Act I
Music suggestions: 'First Visit' by Elmer Bernstein - 'The Age of Innocence' movie soundtrack; 'Felicity' by Patrick Doyle - 'Sense and Sensibility' soundtrack; Violin Concerto Movement No. 1 by Edgar Meyer, played by Hilary Hahn.
"Don't you see it is the honorable thing to do?" she said. "To tell her the truth?"
"What do I want with honor?" he scowled.
"Well, then. Consider that it would be better for Christine to know you as a human being, better for both of you."
"There is nothing I would like better, but it is impossible!"
"Why?" she said.
He stared at her in exasperation. "To name just one reason from amongst the thousand that present themselves - she would never forgive me!"
"Perhaps she could. It is in her nature to be forgiving. She would understand that you intended to help her."
"She might not. I would risk never seeing her again, and that... that would..." He broke off.
Suddenly he leapt up and made for the door, crossing the room in a few swift strides.
It was absolutely necessary to stop him, Madame Giry thought in a panic. He must be persuaded, for Christine's sake. Her future depended on it. "But Erik," she cried in a fit of desperation, "Have you considered that you cannot win her as an angel?"
Erik slowly turned round.
The wild look in his eyes frightened her.
"You mistake me," he stammered when he could manage to speak, looking as though he'd been accused of a crime. "It was never my intention to try to have her for myself. * That was not what this was for. I am not so vile as that! How could you think such a thing? The thought of a thing like me with her... It is... it is..." He stopped, finding no word sufficient to convey his disgust.
"I know it was not your intention," Madame Giry said. "I believe you would have carried this secret to your grave if you could. But it is not vile. And perhaps you should consider telling her of your affection."
Erik was momentarily dumbstruck. Suddenly a frightening, wild light came into his eyes. "Why..." he cried, "You... You..."
"Erik?" she said, startled. She had never seen him like this before. He had always been mercurial; she was used to his temper. But this was beyond anything.
"I ought to have known!" he cried. "This is your plan to punish me. Oh, very clever. You nearly fooled me for a moment."
"-Punish you for what?" Madame Giry asked helplessly.
"-You cannot let the freak even think about your girl that way, not even in the depths of his heart!" he roared. "Oh, no, he must be made to pay! You must make him announce his depravity so the whole world can know about it! He must fall on his face and make a fool of himself in front of the one creature he worships! Then he will never make the mistake of daring to raise his eyes to her again!" He stopped and stared at her, breathing heavily, half-sick with humiliation.
Madame drew herself up in her chair, more sad than angry. "How can you imagine I would think about you in that way?" she said, her voice gentle but firm. "And even if I did, do you suppose I would drag my little Christine into a scheme like that?"
Erik eyed her warily for a moment, weak from his outburst but still on the defensive. He blinked several times; his breathing slowed. At least he seemed to recognize her face again, to realize that he was standing in front of one of the only people who had shown him compassion - not the hundreds of others who had despised, rejected and brutalized him. "Forgive me," he managed at last.
Madame Giry nodded weakly, ready to forgive but still shakn by his outburst.
"But I do not understand," he said. For a moment he looked as absorbed and perplexed as though he were doing calculus in his head - more, even, for calculus he at least understood. This new idea, that of him and Christine, was more vast and unwieldy than any he had ever heard of. Nothing in his lonely life had prepared him for it. "You really... think I could...?"
"You have many of the traits I've heard her say she hopes for in a husband."
He flinched as though he'd been struck. "A husband? I cannot marry her! I cannot be any woman's husband - let alone a woman like her!"
"Why not?"
"There are ten thousand reasons!" he cried. "To name just one, she will want children! - I could not give her that!"
"But-"
"-And even aside from that, I could never be the sort of man she dreams of." He hung his head in despair.
"-How do you know what sort of man she dreams of? I happen to know she hopes to meet a man with a cultured, active, refined mind. That sounds very like you. Look at yourself."
"I try not to."
"Don't twist my words," she said impatiently. "You know what I mean. You are an artist, a scholar. You have traveled. You know languages. You understand music. There are few who do."
A tiny flicker of hope glimmered in Erik's eyes, like the faintest imaginable spark. Then, however, it was extinguished. He had lost the thread of this equation. He could not see how Madame Giry could possibly have resolved it. "I am sorry," he said shakily. "I know not how this notion has gotten ahold of you, but it must cease. Things will go on as they are."
"So you don't believe me, then?" Madame Giry said.
He merely shook his head. Mutely he turned toward the door.
"Where are you going?" she said.
"Home," he said. Well, that was not quite true. He was going home, yes, but with a detour on the way. He'd spotted that stupid new patron, the one with the ridiculous name and the even more ridiculous haircut, mooning after Christine during her performance. He needed to go make sure nothing came of that. She would never be stupid enough to fall for a fop like that, but all the same, it wouldn't hurt to make sure he knows to keep away from her!
Madame Giry watched Erik sadly as he disappeared down the hall. She couldn't think of anything to say that would stop him. When he was gone, she locked her door and went to bed feeling defeated.
End of Chapter 2. Thank you so much for reading!
*For the record, I'm pretending the whole wedding-dress-dummy thing never happened- it's creepy as heck. I'm allowed to ignore it because it isn't in the original Leroux novel, so it's not canon, thank goodness. :)