He opened his eyes again after they had well arrived in France. He woke up in a small square room, lit by an orange light from the window left of him. Plain walls and looming furniture greeted him. He was alone, wasn't he? He groaned in pain, his head was even worse than before. The room was spinning. He felt hot, his mouth was dry. He was sweating, as if dressed for winter in the middle of hot summer's day. Was it summer already? No, on second thought he was cold... freezing! He shivered, yet even though his mind was racing with fever he somehow felt like laughing, laughing from pain. But then his emotions changed again, and he felt scared, frightened, as he recalled the past event, his near-death experience, the strain on his frame. His body ached, and he tensed every muscle in his body in a futile attempt to release himself of the pain. Was he dreaming? Had he been dreaming? Had his abduction been a dream? Where was he? Was he still in his luxurious home? He felt he was dreaming, flying, floating, all at the same time. His body itched, ached, his skin tingled.

And then, next to him, as if hovering over him, a ray of bright light blinded him, and he closed his eyes to shield himself from that burning glow. He moaned, and heard a high-pitched hum. He thought he recognised it, but he couldn't remember. The light was burning through his eyelids, was this the source of the heat? Wasn't he freezing a mere moment ago? The light touched his face, hurt him. He wanted to shield his eyes from the radiant fire that burned him, that melted his flesh, but his limbs were paralyzed. He begged for mercy, for silence, but the humming continued. There was a deafening roar of thunder, then more heat struck his body. He was punched. Gwynplaine cried, begging for mercy, to leave him be. His eyes were clouded, he could not make out the room anymore, only figureless dark shapes that wanted to envelop him. In a last frantic try he raised his arms to fight the demons, but he was weak, and the demons burned his wrists as they pinned him to the bed. Gwynplaine struggled with all the strength left in his body, howled for help at the top of his lungs, but his mouth was covered and he surrendered to his demons helplessly. The room once more was turning about him and soon he dozed off into unconsciousness again.

The next time he awoke, the curtains were pulled shut. At least, so it seemed. It was dark, and there was a sound of rain beating against the windowpane. A candle burnt in the corner of the room. That must have been that burning light from before, he thought. There was still the ever present throbbing in his stomach yet it seemed less intimidating than before. He rubbed his eyes and checked his surroundings. He recognised it from what he presumed had been a dream. He wasn't sure of the day, of the date, whether it was day or night.

He wanted to get up, but was struggling and in the end decided to just stay back and wait till somebody would enter the room. Surely someone would check on him, right? Where were Ursus and Dea? He stared at the ceiling, and touched the bandage around his waist, flinching when he accidentally pressed the wound. He was once again undone of clothing, and was now wearing his usual apparel again. He smiled: at last! He thought of Dea. Where would she be now? He felt a strong urge to hold her. Was she in the room next to this one, or opposite? Was she even here, whatever here may be, at all? Or would she be sleeping soundly in the Green Van? Was she even asleep? He ached to see her, to tell her he was alright, to explain what happened, and overall: to marry her! His heart and stomach fluttered at the thought of marriage. Not like it used to do, but in sheer excitement! Ursus had been right after all, Dea loved him, and there was no need for him to find prove of whatever source that he could marry her. As his thoughts continued he didn't take notice of Ursus slipping into the room. He was rudely interrupted by his foster father.

"At last, you're awake! Why, it has been a two full days. Dea is worried sick! How dare you brute leave a woman in that state of mind. Then again, the amount of morphine the doctor gave would have had me knocked out for at least a week."

Ursus came up to Gwynplaine, and placed his hand on his son's forehead. The fever was slowly releasing Gwynplaine from its suffocating grasp. Gwynplaine examined Ursus, and noticed the purple and blue colours around Ursus' swollen right eye.

"What happened to you, Ursus?"

A grumble escaped Ursus' throat before he replied: "the brute doesn't even remember, isn't it grande! You hit me Gwynplaine, mere hours after the doctor left. You were delirious! I was barely able to contain you, you ignorant imbecile."

So it wasn't a dream after all, thought Gwynplaine and he quickly apologized to his father.

"Where are we Ursus? And what day is it?"

"We're temporarily staying at an inn. Doctor's advice was to have you rest for at least a week. We arrived in France two days ago. Today is Tuesday February 26th, almost one o'clock in the night to be exact. You seem well rested, fancy telling me what you've been doing while in the afterlife."

Gwynplaine nodded, but first asked for water and food. He felt famished. Ursus brought him what little was left. Gwynplaine ate as he told his story, and Ursus listened, attentively, not showing any emotion while Gwynplaine told of his journey through the upper classes of England.

"But where's Dea?" Gwynplaine ended his monologue.

"She's in the opposite room. She's sleeping. Poor thing, fatigue took her at last. She's stayed with you since the day we arrived, nursed you through your deranged nightmares, but I doubt you remember any of that, do you? Now, if you don't mind...," Ursus said as he stood up and yawned, "I was on my way to get some sleep myself about an hour ago. I only came here to check up on you. Our arrival into France hasn't been exactly without a care. Rest some more, you've had quite a blow."

Gwynplaine himself doze off another few times, but when the first rays crept through the window he knew he had to see Dea. He carefully sat up, and without making a sound he left the room. The hallway was dark. He knocked at Dea's door and whispered her name, but there was no reply. He silently opened the door, as it was left unlocked, and stepped inside. He saw her beautiful blonde curls on the pillow in the small rays that streamed through the window. His heart rushed, and caused him to accidentally close the door with more force than he intended to. Dea's eyes shot open and she called in a trembling voice: "Who's there?"

"It's me, Gwynplaine."

Her face turned into a bright smile, she reached out her arms yearning for him, a cue for him to walk up to her and grasp her hands in his. She moved aside, making space for him to lay down next to her. He didn't care about formalities anymore, and carefully filled his spot in the small bed. She laughed and kissed every part of him her lips could reach. He laughed as well, seeing Dea happy as she was. She inhaled his familiar scent. "I thought you would never wake up," she whispered into her darkness and buried her face in his neck. He accepted her embrace and folded his hands around her head protectively.

They lay together in silence, for their love didn't need to be expressed in words. Dea soon fell asleep again, her hand entwined with his, her head slightly leaned against his arm. Gwynplaine felt, for the first time in what seemed an eternity, a feeling of complete tranquillity in his body. The storm had passed. Only their love, their future, remained. They were safe. They were alive. They were in love!

"You little rascal! Sneaking off like that in the middle of the night to find his lover." Ursus said jokingly as he peeked his head around the door of Dea's room. She was still sleeping soundly, and Gwynplaine gestured to Ursus to be silent. There was no reply, but the door was quietly shut again. It was hours later, when the sun was shining bright, that Dea's eyes opened again. "Good morning, dear. Did you sleep well?"

She blushed, for her dreams had been filled with his presence when he had joined her in bed. Instead she returned the question, her fingers slowly tracing his stomach and finding entrance into his shirt where the bandage wrapped around his waist. She traced the edges of the bandage with her fingertips. Gwynplaine let her, eyeing her curiously. "Feeling much better," he answered.

And soon Dea was talking rapidly to him, as she had done in the past. She told Gwynplaine of their arrival in France. How the sailors were kind enough to bring Gwynplaine to a doctor, how Ursus had not spoken a word of French but had made a new friend who spoke both English and French fluently. How Ursus had brought them to the inn to rest and how scared and lonely she had felt in the past two days and how happy she was to have him back at last. Gwynplaine listened, enjoying the sweet hum of excitement in her voice. She was excited, and at ease, he could hear it in her voice!

As she was speaking he lost himself in her beautiful face, her smile and her eyes, and a fire, which he thought was caused by his wound, was rekindled in his stomach. Never in his life had he been happier than today, next to the woman he loved. While in the middle of her story there was a knock at the door, and Ursus entered, with a plate full of breakfast. He seemed merry, he was whistling! He greeted them excitedly, placed a hand on Gwynplaine's forehead to check his temperature - much to the surprise of The Laughing Man - seemed satisfied about it and then sat down to share the exciting news with them.

"Darlings, I may have found a perfect new van for us," he began. While in London, they had made so much money that it had accumulated to a small fortune for the poor. From this money, together with the royal coins Gwynplaine had taken with him Ursus had been able to pay for their voyage, the inn, and now possibly a new van. Gwynplaine sat himself up in bed as did Dea, and the scene reminded Ursus of when they were young and as inseparable as they were now. As they breakfasted, they discussed further matters, and the conversation did Gwynplaine well. The fog in his mind seemed to clear little by little, Dea's radiant light in her character must have been the cause he thought, and he felt he was finally back in the life of the simple peasants, and of the living. How he loved every minute of it! How miserable his life would have been had he not fled from court. Though his stomach still ached he was able to suppress it more or less. He yearned for a walk, fresh air, and the sight of France!

Yet as Ursus discussed the matters of the sideshows and how they had to start all over with their fame, Gwynplaine's content seemed to lessen, though Ursus didn't notice with the ever-present smile on Gwynplaine's face. Gwynplaine wasn't sure if humiliation was what he wished for anymore. He wanted to marry Dea, and spend his time with her in a stable home, not a travelling van. Besides, he wanted privacy with Dea, he wanted to consummate their marriage, he wanted to love her when they were alone! The feeling in his stomach grew bigger and a blush crept over his face.

"What are you blushing at, sweetheart?" Ursus asked sarcastically.

"Nothing," answered Gwynplaine, averting his eyes from his father's.

"Then it is settled."

Gwynplaine didn't reply. He would discuss this matter with Ursus in private in the following days.