Chapter 20

Alas, you must go!
You must leave these arms
in which I clasp you
and tear yourself from this passionate joy.

-Romeo et Juliette, Act IV, Scene I

Soundtrack suggestions: 'Desire' by Terry Davies (Brideshead Revisited); 'North and South Opening Theme' by Martin Phipps (Brideshead Revisited); 'J'y Suis Jamais Allée', Yann Tiersen (Amélie); 'Humility and Love' by Christopher Young (Creation).

Erik followed her gaze. "It would not be safe for you to climb up there," he protested, looking at her in alarm.

"Yes, but you know how, surely."

"You need hardly think I am going to abandon you to the police!"

"Then watch from up there, if you must. But stay out of sight, and take care not to do anything careless!"

"What?" he cried furiously.

Christine bit back her annoyance. "There isn't time for this!" she cried. "You must go! I could not bear if you were arrested because you stayed behind to help me! Please, my love! I shall meet you at... at the stables outside the Opéra. No-one will be there at this time of night."

At last he made his escape.

Not a moment later, a man in the uniform of the Paris gendarmie stormed into the grotto.

"Monsieur l'Officier?" Christine cried in a panicked voice. "Thank God! I was frightened!"

He looked at her in confusion. "The park has been closed for almost three hours, Mademoiselle."

"I know."

"Why didn't you leave?"

"I was lost," she invented. Thank God the park was vast and wild enough for that to be believable. That story would never have fooled anyone if she'd tried it in tame little Parc Monceau, no matter how stupid she pretended to be. She was grateful, too, for the cloak that covered her gown. She would have had a time explaining why she was in evening clothes. Still, in spite of all that, she conjured up some tears to help the effect. "My friends left me behind." She trailed off into sobs. It wasn't difficult to produce some, given her distress.

The officer's expression softened. He regarded with a sympathetic and rather condescending look. "Mm-hm. I don't suppose you know how the pump machinery came to be turned on?"

"Machinery?" she said, assuming her blankest expression. "I don't understand." For good measure, she let a little of her foreign accent seep into her pronunciation.

The officer stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Never mind. I can see you don't know what I'm talking of. These foreigners. For God's sake. Nonetheless, Mademoiselle, I am obliged to fine you the sum of ten francs. Do you understand? Fine? Ten francs? Money!"

Christine winced. Ten francs was a tidy sum. She could scarcely afford it - Erik even less. Still, she didn't dare object. "Yes."

"Your name and address?" he said, taking a pad of paper from his pocket. "Home - where you live. And your name. Take care you do not give a false one, or we shall find out, and you shall have to appear in court. Do you understand?"

She sighed. "16 Rue du Mont-Cenis, appartement 13. My name is Kristina Isaksdotter." She spelled it.

"Hm," he said without interest, writing this down. "Well." At last he nodded. "I shall escort you to the gate - since you seem unable to find your own way. Gate. Exit."

"Thank you," Christine said. Anything to put more distance between him and Erik - if Erik were not following them, that was.

They walked in silence back through the park. Christine listened in constant terror, sure she would hear the sound of a twig snapping or gravel crunching behind them. But if Erik were there, he was taking care to be quiet.

"You won't, ah, tell anyone, will you, Monsieur?" she asked after a few paces.

"You are fortunate- for a minor offense like this, the records will not be public," he assured her. "It is not a crime. No one is going to come arrest you."

"Arrest?" she exclaimed loudly. She was really beginning to get into her role.

"No!" he cried in irritation. "No arrest! No crime! You can go home. Home, do you understand?"

"Oh. Yes, I understand now. Thank you," Christine said; even though it wasn't his doing, it seemed safer to be overly polite.

He rolled his eyes.

In a few minutes they came upon a gate - a different one than before, opening onto the rather disreputable Rue de la Vera-Cruz.

The officer opened it with a heavy key and ushered her through. "Good night, Mademoiselle," he said curtly, shutting it with a clang behind her. "Take care that this doesn't happen again. Do you understand? Not again. Be more careful next time. Careful."

She hovered nervously outside. Where was Erik? She wished she could believe he'd had the sense to flee, but a part of her knew he hadn't. He would never leave her alone.

Trying to be stealthy, she peered over her shoulder into the park.

"You need to go!" the officer said again, more firmly this time. She wondered if he suspected something. "Leave! See that you find a cab home. A cab. Go home. You're fortunate you haven't come to any harm this evening. The streets are not safe for a young lady alone at night."

I did not come alone! Christine wanted to shout, though she knew it was irrational.

She could see that the officer was going to keep his eyes fixed on her until she left. There was no chance of slipping back into the park.

She gathered what little remained of her patience.

"Yes, Monsieur," she said. "Bon soirée."

A curious way of bidding someone good evening. There certainly was no soirée here. Nothing to celebrate. All the light and laughter seemed to have drained out of the world.

After allowing herself one last longing gaze back into the park - all her hopes and dreams seemed trapped behind that fence - she turned to go.

Though she was on the opposite side of the park from where they had come in forty-five minutes (had it only been forty-five minutes?) before, she couldn't bring herself to leave yet. When she was out of sight of the gate, she stopped and waited for Erik. But a quarter of an hour passed and no familiar shadow came into view.

Her fear for him began to mingle with other feelings, chief among them isappointment. A few minutes ago, she had been an ardently happy, newly engaged woman. The man she loved was there and they were standing in the most beautiful spot in Paris.

Now the gown he had given her was ruined, her hands were scraped and bleeding, and she had run up against the law for the first time in her life. And what was worst by far, Erik was gone. Would they never be able to have a moment's happiness?

She waited and waited, but with an increasing feeling of hopelessness. Eventually, the dread of standing alone on a dark street overwhelmed her. She hadn't thought to bring the dagger Meg insisted she carry with her - after all, she had assumed Erik would be by her side the whole evening, she thought miserably - and while the street was far from the carnival of horrors he had feared she would encounter, the few passers-by she saw were aiming bewildered, suspicious, and even hostile glances in her direction. She was not safe here. At last, with the greatest reluctance, she sought out a cab.

When she alighted in front of the opera house stables, she looked around frantically, but Erik was not there. As she took in the familiar surroundings, it occurred to her all at once how exhausted she was. The stableyard practically seemed to spin around her, and she cast her eyes about frantically for somewhere to sit. A peek into the stall of her favorite horse, César, yielded a large feed pail. She borrowed it from him in exchange for a kiss on his soft pink nose, upended it into a makeshift stool, and sat to wait.

An hour went by. The scrapes on her hands burned, and she'd lost all feeling in her feet. She contemplated taking off her soaking stockings, but it would have been too absurd, and so she sat and shivered.

She had never felt so alone. Even the horses were all asleep, César having drifted off again.

She kept peering into the darkness, hoping every shape was Erik, that every sound, no matter how unlikely, meant he was about to come into view. Each time her hopes were dashed. The night dragged on. In her mind, she murmured prayers continuously. She even said the Ave Maria, as best she could - something she had never tried before. If the Holy Mother had any help to offer, she wasn't going to object.

She felt as though she were going mad with fear and uncertainty. What had things come to, that she was sitting alone in a deserted stable-yard at one-thirty in the morning?

Had it really been only the day before that she had been onstage covered in diamonds and applauded by hundreds?

Curious to think that both those things were because of Erik. Nothing small ever happened when you were with him.

After what seemed like hours - a glance at her watch later revealed it had been about forty-five minutes - just as she was beginning to seriously contemplate returning to the park and taking her chances, she finally heard footsteps. She leapt up and ran to the stable-door, torn between hope and fear.

A silhouette loomed toward her out of the distance. At last it came close enough to recognize. It was him. He was safe. At once, the world righted itself. Everything seemed to fall into place. She was still exhausted and shaken, but in the depths of her heart she was at peace.

"Mon cœur!" she practically screamed, and she flung herself into his arms. "I was so very frightened. Are you well?"

"Yes... I am sorry. I returned as quickly as I could." Indeed, he looked out of breath and exhausted. "Forgive me, Christine."

"There is no need to apologize. Thank God you are safe! I could never have forgiven myself if... if..." Her voice broke, and she stifled a sob.

Erik froze in horror. "Yes, I am well... but you are not! Don't cry," he pleaded. "Oh, don't cry. I am wretchedly sorry, Christine... What a miserable evening this has turned out to be for you."

"No... no..."

"This is all my fault. What a damned fool I have been. You are shivering, Christine. How long have you been sitting out here?" He cupped her cheek in one white-gloved hand.

"I am not cold; I am frightened!" Christine shook her head, trying in vain to stop the tears from flowing. "Mon cœur, I understand now - we must leave France."

"What?"

"You must go as soon as it is possible!" She seized his arm. "We must not delay any longer. You were right. Oh, forgive me - I have been so wretchedly selfish!"

"No, Christine, never."

"You must go as soon as possible!"

He looked at her uncertainly. "If you are quite resolved..."

"Yes, I am, I give you my word." She looked up and met his gaze. "I might easily have seen you arrested and taken away tonight. I cannot risk that."

"Very well, then." He swallowed. "Though I am sorry indeed that it had to happen in such a... a wretched way, I confess I am glad we have come to agree on this matter. It is essential."

"Yes," she said. "However, I have one thing to ask."

"Oh?"

She hesitated. "It is rather, er... rather significant."

"You may ask freely."

"Very well, then." She took a deep breath and looked steadily into his eyes. "I want us to be married before you go."

END OF CHAPTER 20.

Thank you so much for reading, guys! And thank you so very much to WrappedinRed, TangoSalsa, Chryselis, and MissGalindaa for your kind and thoughtful reviews! They mean so very much to me. They made my day! I am so grateful for your support.