Chapter 21 - Profundo
Poor creature!
Into what an abyss I have dragged you with me!
-Pique Dame, Act III, Scene I
Music suggestions for this chapter: 'Ellen Leaves' (The Age of Innocence) by Elmer Bernstein; 'I've Seen Hell' (North and South) by Martin Phipps
Erik stared at her in surprise. All of a sudden everything was happening at once. This was what he wanted, but it was almost overpowering. In fact, he was disturbed to find, his happiness felt more like fear. What was the matter with him?
Christine must have seen the shock on his face, for her look of happiness faltered.
"You could leave straightaway the very next day, if you think it safest," she said quickly. "But mon cœur... Before I lose you for months, I must have one morning where the first thought that crosses my mind isn't whether you are safe - where I can awaken and know at once that you are there beside me."
His mind reeled. The thought of waking at her side sent desire searing through him. He had dreamed of it, of course, but hearing her say it made it seem so real he could almost taste it.
And yet, it was impossible.
"To have you hold me and not have to think about the world, if only for a few minutes," Christine finished. She caressed his cheek, just where his mask ended. A shiver of pleasure ran through him at the touch.
"Have we not earned it by now, after all we have endured?" she said.
He leaned into her hand, savoring its warmth. It was a few moments before he could find words. "I understand, I think, and you know nothing would give me greater happiness than to have you as my wife- but mon rêve, we cannot be married in France. The announcement must be posted for two weeks."
"Yes, but you said you would not be prepared to leave for at least another few weeks anyhow, so that would not delay you."
"The announcement would be posted publicly."
"Oh." Her face fell. "I see what you mean. Well, there must be some solution. I shall not give up."
Her determination almost frightened him. It reawoke the old fear that this was all somehow some deception. Some trap that had to be sprung at a certain time. In his distress and confusion, he resorted to idiotic jokes. "You are very determined, mon rêve. Is there something I ought to know?"
Her eyebrows went up and she blinked, taken aback. "If there is, then a miracle has taken place!" she said wryly. "Mon cœur, I hope you are joking."
He wanted to slap himself. "Yes, of course. Forgive me. That was absurd-"
"-Well, in that case - very witty of you, I am sure," she said. "Now, devise one of your schemes, if you please. This ought to be easy for you."
"But-"
An idea appeared in her eyes. "-We can go somewhere very far out in the country," she said. "Where no-one will notice."
Erik shook his head. "Here in France people will notice anything if the name Christine Daae is connected with it." He sighed, and then added, his wit rising faintly, "Perhaps our endeavors to further your career have been a little too successful."
Christine's expression had changed as soon as he said the word 'Daae'. She gasped so loudly it startled him.
"Have I said something to offend you?" he asked in alarm. "You know I jested-"
"-Not in the slightest! You have merely reminded me of something." Her eyes were bright. "It occurred to me this evening in the park, when the gendarme took down my information-"
"-He took down your information?" Erik cried.
"-Yes, he fined me," she said indifferently, ignoring his aghast face.
"He fined you?" Erik shouted.
"Mind, someone may hear!" she said, putting a hand on his arm. "Yes, I-"
As always, he did not listen to her. It was impossible to make Erik do anything he did not wish to do. "-That devil!" he shouted. "I shall pay, of course. You shall not lose one sou because of my foolishness. But... the sheer indignity for you! How dare he- What right has he to-"
"-But that is not of importance," Christine went on in the same easy and pleasant tone. "The good news is... you see, mon amour, my name is not Christine Daae!"
The surprise of this was enough to startle him out of his fury. "What?" He blinked stupidly and shook his head. "What are you talking of?"
She smiled at his confusion. "Have you some objection?"
"Yes, I have: Your name is Christine Daae!"
"What makes you think that?" she said, smiling.
"It is in all the programs and on the posters. People call you 'La Daae'. Look, your initials are on your handbag; I saw it earlier. Voilà - C. A. C. D.: Christine Alexandra Cathrine Daae."
"But nonetheless, the fact remains."
"Then you must be an imposter," he laughed, shaking his head. "Where is the woman I know?"
"It is true," she said simply. Folding her hands primly in front of her and fixing a pleasant smile on her face, she stood there and watched his reaction, savoring his confusion.
"No, I shall not stand for this nonsense!" he laughed. "Only one of us may have a pseudonym."
"I am afraid it is too late for you to do anything about it. The matter was decided as soon as I came out of the womb."
"Oh, indeed! What is next - are you long-lost royalty? I would credit any story at this point."
She smiled. "Perhaps I am. Perhaps you are marrying a princesse. I am full of surprises."
"Indeed it would seem so! Next you are going to tell me you are not even French!" he quipped.
She laughed aloud. "Well, that is just the thing, as it happens," she said when she had recovered the ability to speak. "Surnames are patrilineal in Sweden. It's one's father's name plus "sson" or "dotter"."
"Yes, but your father's name was Daae."
"Yes; he was of Norwegian extraction originally, and he was born there," she explained. "But since I was born in Sweden, my official name as it was recorded on my certificate of birth is derived from his first name."
"Christine Isaksdotter?"
"Yes, just so," she said. "Kristina Isaksdotter, to be precise - with a K - it is a delightful letter, is it not?"
"The most fearsome letter our alphabet has to offer." He smiled. "Kristina Isaksdotter and Christine Daae. Yes, to my eye it would look entirely different," Erik said, growing more hopeful. " 'Lately: Mademoiselle Kristina Isaksdotter is married-"
"-to Monsieur Alphonse Masson," she finished, smiling.
"Good God, what a hideous name. I really must get it changed. Yes, I am sure no-one would suspect," he said. "Well, then perhaps we might consider-"
She threw her arms about his neck. "-Mon cœur, thank you! I am delighted."
"But-"
"-To think, we are to be husband and wife!- It is safe!"
"Take care," he pleaded, though his face had brightened at the words. "Someone may hear."
She scarcely seemed to notice. "Soon I shall not be Mademoiselle Daae or Froken Isaksdotter anymore. All that nonsense shall be behind me, thank Heaven. I shall have one name - Madame Masson." She paused for a moment, savoring the sound of it. "It sounds very well, don't you think?"
"I think it sounds wretched," Erik said.
"Erik!" She looked wounded. "How can you say such a thing?"
He hastened to explain. "Madame Masson is my mother."
She looked at him in surprise. He had never spoken of his mother before.
"Besides, you have such a beautiful name," he said . " 'Daae'. It is like... bells ringing. Why should you want to spoil it?"
"I would not be spoiling it-"
"-Besides, you cannot take my name. You must keep yours; this must be-"
"-Ah, but you see, I am afraid that is illegal in France, and you have just agreed-"
"-No, it is not. I looked it up."
She sighed, looking at him with great disappointment.
"I am sorry," he said. "But this must be a secret."
"Well, I shall keep my name for now - but I shall always think of myself as Madame Masson, and you cannot stop me." She smiled. "And someday your name shall be cleared and I shall be able to tell everybody who I really am."
Erik doubted this would ever be a possibility. Not wanting to dwell on the matter, he changed the subject. "There is another thing, mon rêve. Must we be married in two weeks?"
She looked at him in surprise. "I dare not keep you here one moment longer than is necessary."
He hesitated. "I agree. But... You see, I want to give you a proper ceremony. Not some shabby hole-and-corner affair-"
"-It wouldn't be-"
"-And... I confess I long to see you in a wedding-gown and veil." He swallowed, a bit ashamed of this admission. Though it was irrational, part of him still feared she would be appalled that he had dreamed of having her as his bride. "And all that would take time, I am sure."
Christine, for her part, had not looked distressed in the slightest by his disclosure; on the contrary, her face was suffused with happiness. "I want that too," her voice full of emotion. "But..."
"-You must have dreamed about this kind of thing," he pressed gently. "You have a romantic soul, I know."
"Yes, that is true. Well," she said slowly, "I have always loved the idea of a midnight ceremony, with candles all around, and music on the violin..."
"Then that is just what you shall have, Christine," he pronounced definitively.
"-But all that is infinitely less important to me than ensuring that you are safe!" she said. "I cannot have any sort of wedding without my bridegroom. You are, in fact, quite indispensable to the proceedings." She ventured a small smile.
"But this also is of the utmost importance to me," he said. "I shall be able to give you so little else in the way of normalcy; I am determined to do this one thing as it should be done. If you are to be a bride, then I am determined to see your wedding-day honored with all the splendor and ceremony the occasion demands."
She smiled. "And you deserve that as well, you know. But... you must not think that the sort of life we are going to have is something you must atone for. I know we shall find a way to have a beautiful, joyous life, both of us. Besides... I chose you freely. I am the mistress of my own actions. I knew what I was letting myself in for. You make it sound as though you had coerced me into accepting this arrangement but you know that is not the case. Or rather... I hope you know that. I chose you and I would choose you again."
For a moment he was too moved to speak. "That is precisely why I must see that you are not punished for it," he said at last, when he had regained his power of speech. "You have done me the immeasurable honor of agreeing to be my wife in spite of... in spite of everything - and I must see that it is worth your while. I cannot make my happiness by risking yours."
"It already has been worth my while," she said. "You have made me more happy than you would believe."
Suddenly she jumped.
"What is it, mon rêve?" he asked anxiously.
"I have yet another marvelous idea! Truly, the gods have inspired me tonight," she said with a laugh.
He smiled - her enthusiasm was infectious. "Oh?"
"We can have the civil ceremony here in France," she said, "and have a proper Christian ceremony once I arrive in Stockholm, or wherever it is we are going. Perhaps at a little church in the mountains? With flowers, and candles, and everything you wish."
"Well..." He thought. "I like the idea of a ceremony in the mountains," he said slowly.
"What, no objections?" she said playfully.
"No," he said at last. "No - it seems an excellent plan."
A brilliant smile lit up her face. "Thank you, mon cœur! Oh, how glad I am!"
"And I, mon rêve."
"Oh," she said suddenly. "I just remembered. Have you the ring?"
"Ah! - Yes."
"Oh, I am glad! I had feared it might be lost."
"No, fortunately I was able to keep it with me." Erik looked down as Christine took her hand from the folds of her cloak. Suddenly his face changed, transfixed by horror. "Christine!" he cried, grabbing her hand. "You are hurt!"
She glanced down and was surprised to find that the scrapes were worse than she had realized, and her hands were smeared with dirt and sticky with blood. "Oh. Goodness-"
To her shock, Erik suddenly let out a wild yell- almost a roar - and suddenly slammed his hands into the post, again and again, until the wood splintered and his knuckles were bloody. "Damn them! Damn everything!"
"Erik!" she gasped, grabbing his arm, trying to pull him away. "Don't!-"
"-I have brought you nothing but misery!" he cried. "I can't escape it even for one moment - it stalks me everywhere I go, and now I have brought it upon you! You-"
"-No!" she cried.
"You are hurt; you are bleeding - because of me!" he practically wailed.
"I wish you would not say that; it sounds dreadful, it sounds-"
"-What have I done to you?" he cried, unconscious of everything else. "What have I done?"
"-it sounds as though you beat me or something!" she finished. "This is not your fault in the slightest. You didn't push me into the stream."
"I might as well have!" he lamented. "It was my fault! - all my fault! It was my doing! My God, what is wrong with me? I am a curse for you."
"What?"
"Every time we are alone together ends with you inconsolable and in tears!"
"What utter nonsense!" she cried, finally beginning to grow angry. "I have never been 'inconsolable'. I detest that word. It implies that there is no hope- and there is always hope."
"How can there be?" he said, breathing hard, at last beginning to run out of energy, though not despair; he seemed to have an infinite supply of that. "What sort of life can there be for you with me? I made you a wretched proposal! I couldn't even manage that!"
"No! - It was perfectly beautiful. I would not exchange it for an ordinary proposal in a restaurant or at a garden-party or any of that nonsense even if I could. It was quite perfect."
He stared at her, unconvinced. "How can you possibly think that?"
"Well, just to name one example: that moon! Did you order that moon?" she giggled, waving toward the sky. "It os like something out of an advertisement-"
"-No, but I looked in the paper to see when it would be at its peak-"
"-There, you see?" she said. "All the care you took! What other man would have-"
"-That is exactly the trouble!" he cried. "I did not take care at all! A full moon! - what in God's name was I thinking?- I might as well have shined a spotlight on us! I have been careless!"
"But see what you have done now!" she cried impatiently. "What did you gain by all that? Now we both are hurt!"
At the recollection, she glanced down at her own hands. One of the cuts was deeper than she had realized.
"That seems fitting," Erik muttered bleakly. "It's no less than I deserve-"
"Mon amour?" Christine interrupted him. "Have you any iodine or something of the kind at home? I confess I have some anxiety of developing tetanus."*
The mention of the terrible disease brought him out of his stupor. "Oh! Forgive me! Good God. Yes...! Of course...! At once! Come, quickly!"
He swiftly flung his scarf over his face. Before she could say a word he'd taken her by the wrist, pulling her along behind him so fast she could barely keep up, and hurried them both out of the stables.
She was glad to leave them behind. She had been in constant fear that someone was going to appear and spot them. It felt better to be on the move.
In a few moments, they turned a sharp corner giving onto the Rue Scribe. After a furtive glance around, Erik hurried her through the gate and slammed it behind them.
Darkness descended around them like a curtain, but sprang away again a moment later as he struck a match.
Startled by the harsh point of light, she rubbed her eyes.
"Here," Erik said present. He took his handkerchief, made of some luxuriant black fabric, from his pocket, and rolled it so it formed a long, thin band. "As you know, I would not bring you here at all if emergency did not demand it. I hate to subject you to such an indignity, but since you are here, I am afraid I must blindfold you."
She drew back in surprise.
"Forgive me," he said. "It is only until we reach the grotto. You cannot know the way. It would be too dangerous for you."
She hesitated.
"For God's sake, there isn't time!" he cried impatiently.
She looked up at him with a mixture of annoyance and injury.
Realizing he had begun to shout, he stopped and lowered his voice. "I shall not let you fall," he said, trying to be more gentle. "Not this time," he added dejectedly.
"It is not that which I am afraid of."
"Well, what then?" he demanded in the same impatient tone.
"To name one of the many concerns which come to mind - If anyone were to happen across us, we would be hard-pressed to convince them that you were not kidnapping me."
"Well, that is an added benefit," he said ruefully.
She sighed.
"Very well," he cried suddenly, wadding the handkerchief up with furious hands and flinging it temperamentally to the ground. "But you must close your eyes - and keep them closed, mind."
In no mood to argue, she begrudgingly did as he'd demanded.
They slowly started forward.
She could feel Erik's eyes boring into her, making sure she kept hers firmly closed.
He was true to his word, though, guiding her carefully, describing the terrain in detail. She only slipped once, and at once his hands were there to steady her, solid and reassuring.
Attuned to her remaining senses, she soon noticed the air growing warmer. All at once the ground felt softer underfoot, and her nose detected an exotic, spicy scent - incense, perhaps.
"We have arrived," Erik said momentarily. "Thank you, mon rêve. I am truly sorry for putting you through such an indignity. It pains me greatly."
Christine opened her eyes and looked around eagerly. The other two times she had come here, she had been too afraid for Erik's life to make much note of anything else. Now, she was free to take in her surroundings. She was standing on a magnificent Persian carpet with a delicate, ethereal pattern of lotuses. It was exactly the sort of beautiful thing she would have expected him to own.
For a moment, a part of her almost wished they could live here. There was something peculiarly romantic about it - a palace underground.
Erik's mind, however, was far from such thoughts. Leaving her little time to reflect, he hurried her down a flight of makeshift stone steps to the main floor of the grotto, just where she and Madame Giry had brought him all those weeks ago. She let him maneuver her across the room to the fireplace and sit her down on an armchair.
"Here," he said distractedly, setting a large bowl of water down beside her. "This will be safe to wash with. It comes from the same spring where I obtain my drinking-water."
While Christine rinsed the dirt and blood off her hands, he rifled frantically through the medicine-cabinet and snatched a bottle of iodine from the middle shelf.
"Will you allow me?" he said, crouching before her and taking her hand in both of his. "I have no little experience dealing with such things, I regret to say, having been obliged to be my own physician all these years."
Christine looked at him in alarm. "No doubt. But... if it was something serious, you would go to a doctor, would you not?"
"No," he said shortly.
"But-"
He looked annoyed to be continuing the discussion. "Doctors think me a fascinating specimen."
"I am sorry," she said sadly.
"Don't be absurd."
She could see he didn't want to speak of the matter any further, so she waited in silence while he inspected the wound and dabbed a ball of cotton-wool in the iodine.
When the sharp-smelling orange fluid touched her raw skin, she couldn't hold back a hiss of pain.
Erik jerked his hand back.
"It is no matter," Christine assured him, trying not to wince.
He nodded shakily and tried again.
When the iodine touched the largest cut, she could not hold back a whimper.
Erik dropped the cotton-wool. "I am sorry," he said. What she could see of his face was looking pale. "I cannot, mon rêve. When it is only myself, that is another matter, but..."
"There is no need to apologize," she said quickly. "I am grateful."
She finished the task herself, though rather quickly and carelessly, before allowing him to bandage the cuts. Only when the task was complete did his agitation begin to ease.
"Voilà," he said at last, standing up with a deep sigh, smoothing the creases in his trousers with his hands.
Christine looked down at her hands with relief. The smooth, clean white bandages were a striking contrast to her dirty and bloodied skin before. "Thank you. That looks a great deal better."
"Yes, I suppose it it does," Erik allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. His agitation from earlier was at last beginning to ease. "Now... are you quite well, mon rêve?" He looked anxiously into her eyes.
She smiled, hoping to reassure him. "Yes. Thanks to you."
"I am very glad indeed," he said, exhaling. "However, you must see a doctor at once if you feel even the slightest hint of illness. Now come, we must return."
END OF CHAPTER 21.
Thank you for reading! :)