Chapter 3

Ah, how vain is every hope!

- Le Nozze de Figaro, Act I

The next evening, there came an unexpected knock on Madame Giry's door. With a groan, she got up. She peered through the peephole, but could see no one. "Who is it?"

"The used furniture salesman." It was Erik's voice.

She blinked, surprised. "Ah, yes," she said, playing her part - the walls were thin, and passersby could hear what she said too. "I have a few pieces I think would be of interest to you." She opened the door and hurriedly ushered Erik inside.

"Indeed? Your offer intrigues me. I look forward to doing business with you," he said, struggling to keep the irony out of his voice.

She swiftly shut the door, eager to hear what he really had to say.

"Thank God," Erik said, collapsing back into his usual persona. "I could not keep up that charade much longer. The indignity! To think of me, selling furniture like a common tradesman!"

"What have you come for?" she asked as pleasantly as possible.

He swallowed. "Well, to be frank... Madame, I have decided you were right about Christine. I have had enough of only being able to have her stay with me because she feels she must. I cannot be satisfied with that any longer."

"I am so very pleased!" She clasped her hands together in delight - not something a poor woman in Paris in 1870 often had cause to do.

"Now that I have thought of us knowing each other as fellow-creatures, I cannot relinquish the idea," Erik went on. "Why did you have to do this? Why did you go stirring up discontent, making me hope for things I can never have? I know I have not the smallest chance in the world. But still I shall not have any peace until I try."

"I wouldn't say that," she ventured gently. "There is always a chance, is there not?"

He sadly shook his head. "There are never chances. Not for me. Not for anything."

There was an awkward silence.

"You have not told her yet, I take it, then?" she said.

"No, but I must, and soon."

"Why not?" she asked.

"I thought perhaps you might help me decide how to tell her."

"Yes." Erik would need some assistance there, she thought wryly. "Very well, then. Hm... You'll want somewhere where you can speak without being overheard, but..."

"My home?" Erik said.

"Sainte-Marie! Non! She'd be terrified." Madame Giry couldn't help fearing that if things went badly, the temptation for Erik to keep Christine down there in the hope that she would somehow learn to love him, like Belle in the Beast's castle, would be too great. Erik was, she firmly believed, incapable of hurting a defenseless young woman, or she would never have allowed him near Christine - but in his loneliness and desperation, he was capable of who knew what other mad, foolish actions. "Arrange a meeting in a public place to tell her."

"Why?" Erik demanded.

"It will make you appear more trustworthy to her."

"And you shan't have to worry about her being safe from me!" Erik said bitterly. "Do you think I would... form some evil design against her?"

"No!" Madame Giry said, her temper flaring up in turn.

"Then why will you not trust me?"

"It is for Christine to decide if she wishes to place her trust in you."

Erik silently took this in. "Very well," he said at last. "But the fact remains I cannot go out in public."

"It doesn't have to be the dining-room at the Hotel Bristol," she said tartly. "It could be a park. She loves Parc Monceau. It is close to the Opéra. Or a church. Churches are respectable places. Or at least, they're supposed to be," she added wryly. "Not the Madeleine, though, I think - there are too many tourists there. Somewhere less popular."

Erik pondered all this for a few moments. "But what if she took off my mask? In front of everyone? I will not be reduced to being gawked at like an animal in a circus again!"

"I do not think she would," Madame Giry said in what she hoped was a reassuring tone. "She is a polite girl, and it isn't polite to go around snatching people's masks off their faces. This isn't an operetta."

"Even so... what if she... sends for the police or something?"

"What for? You haven't done anything illegal."

"That hasn't stopped people before."

She accepted this. "Of course. Well. You must decide whether it is worth the risk."

"Very well," he said at last.

"Oh, before I forget," she said. "The most important thing. You must learn to control your temper!"

He blinked at her in mild outrage. "My temper is perfectly under control."

Madame Giry stifled a laugh.

"Well," he said in dignified outrage, standing up and moving toward the door. "If you are going to do nothing but insult me, I shall go. If I am still alive after tomorrow, I shall bring you a full report."

It occurred to her suddenly that he might not be joking. "Erik, wait!" she called.

He stopped. "What is it?"

"Erik... These past few days you have shown yourself to be a man of honor and courage. There are few people who could endure a fraction of the trials you have and come out with even a shred of their character intact. That is praiseworthy indeed."

"Well," he said. "Er... thank you, Madame. I am grateful."

For a moment, the two Parisians froze, horrified by their display of sentimentality.

Erik at last put them both out of their misery by escaping out the door.

She listened as his footsteps retreated down the hall. A weight of sorrow settled in her chest. She hated herself for the deception she was practicing upon him.

As soon as she'd begun to realize Erik was in love with Christine, her heart had broken for him. She had always prayed he would at least be spared this one tragedy, that of disappointed love. But it was not to be.

It had seemed impossible that his life could become any more tragic, but it had.

And here she was undoubtedly helping it become even moreso. But what choice did she have?

Christine would never accept Erik.

It was not because of his face. Madame knew Christine better than that. She had no such narrow-minded prejudices. Nothing as vain and foolish as that would ever stop her from loving a man, if they were well-suited.

No, it was because the kind of life he lived. Who could live with the Phantom, marry the Phantom? Christine was fanciful, yes, but not irrational. He could never provide for her, never give her any kind of security in life. With his temperament, he could never be a husband, certainly not a father. Christine would see that.

Letting him declare himself and then hear the inevitable reply from her own lips was the only solution. There was no other way to save him and her from this dreadful predicament he had put them in, and the devastation it could wreak in both their lives.

No way, that was, aside from having him arrested, and she refused to even contemplate that.

Even though that might very possibly be less painful for him than this is going to be, said a voice in her head.

She winced.

It wasn't her fault, she told herself over and over. She couldn't make Christine love Erik. She could not change what he was, what he had always been.

Why, then, did she still feel like she was betraying Erik to his doom - that she was to blame?

She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Erik, forgive me...

End of Chapter 3

Notes:

* I'm sure Erik appreciates the finer things in life, but I can't imagine him spending money on clothes when he has no one to impress. I'd imagine he would spend his money on things that bring him enjoyment, like fine wines.