Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: Hello all! So, it would seem Christine is happy to talk to Erik again, with or without Pali's helpful input. I know that he's my own character, so I have to love him, but I do have a soft spot for Pali and his weird ways...though Nadir is still Erik's number one best buddy of course :-)
Thank you so much for those lovely reviews; Filhound, TMara, MarilynKC and a Guest (bonpetitepoodles). Reviews are very much appreciated and I love reading all your opinions on the story! Thank you so much :-D
TMara- Christine was a recluse and never told anyone anything unless forced, so she never actually told Pali her full name. Thank you for highlighting the unclear areas of the story- I get a bit carried away sometimes, lol- and if anything else is unclear please do let me know so I can clear things up :-)
And with all that said, now we may progress onto the chapter!
Six- Singing Once More
After hurrying through the maze of lopsided tents and battered caravans, Erik finally reached the fringes of the gypsy camp, bursting out of that uncomfortable atmosphere and into the open greenery that lay beyond with a gasp as if he had just swum up from the deep to take a breath of air into his deprived lungs. He needed to get out of that colourful, worn down endless spiral and into the open- the sitting around and waiting for Pali to return had started to grate on him, and he had known when Nadir ducked out of the tent for a second that if he had not fled then, he would have surely gone mad. With a desperate sweeping look around him, his eyes caught sight of a little stone wall- a crumbled, ancient boundary between two stretches of land that had since become wild and untamed- and he sat heavily onto the jagged stones and felt his shoulders sag with relief.
It was calm and quiet, no noise or commotion to distract and to rob this peaceful landscape of its soothing tranquillity and as Erik sat gazing down upon the spread of picturesque landscape before him, he wondered why it was so difficult in this chaotic life to savour such moments as these. What was so hard about standing for a mere ten minutes, or even ten seconds, breathing sweet air and letting that endless silence clear the mind of all the troubles that gradually poisoned and tormented it? Erik had never been one to endure, let alone enjoy the daylight hours; he hated the sunlight and the way those unfeeling rays blinded you and burned the skin, he detested the sweat and the flush that came with sticky heat and he had no great love for the typical outdoor joys- rolling down grassy hills and summer picnics, even walking through miles of countryside or exploring the bustle of a quaint village market, were hardly pastimes that gave comfort to a deformed man who wanted to hide from the world. The sunlight was unforgiving, leaving no place to hide in those garish rays, so Erik had spurned the daylight as often as he could in favour of gentle darkness and concealing shadows.
Of course that didn't change the fact that some perverse part of him dreamt of such carefree summer pastimes. He could imagine walking down those rolling hills in the distance, he could see himself ducking through that pretty little town perched at the bottom of the gentle slope before him- he would happily endure and enjoy such things, if he had Christine by his side, clutching his hand, her arm linked through his own and smiling broadly at him and the world around her. It was as if she were really here beside him now, her wild curls tumbling free in the slight breeze and her eyes alight with the wonder of gazing upon such a lovely landscape. But that image was as false as the mask upon his face, and Erik closed his eyes so as not to look upon the landscape that seemed tainted now by his unrealistic dreams.
He had only been stood there with his eyelids firmly shut for a few minutes when he felt a tentative hand on his shoulder, and expecting to find Nadir or Pali stood there, ready to scold him for creeping away to mope somewhere alone, he turned around immediately. As he did so, and his eyes made contact with the person stood there fidgeting with an adorably nervous expression on their face, he felt his heart rocket and collide with his ribcage with a force that hurt. For there, with her arms wrapped around her defensively and her eyes lowered shyly, stood Christine Daae.
Her eyes looked up from the grassy floor then to look quickly into his own, and as always he had to fight to remain standing and sane- though filled with a wariness that made him feel ancient with sadness, they still shone and seemed to beckon him closer, endless depths of emotion and warmth and beauty.
"Christine." He breathed, the words so soft and desperate that her eyes clouded with alarm, forcing him to gather his frayed thoughts and pull himself together- a scolding voice oddly like Nadir's berated him from inside his frantic mind, so he stood up a little straighter and forced a smile. "Hello, again. What brings you away from all the rush to set up the camp for tonight- or are they done assembling their spectacles?"
"No, they are still...preparing." Christine replied bitterly, twisting the word so it became stinging and disgusted. But then she looked at him again, smiled and began to speak in a far friendlier tone, taking a seat not half a metre from where he had originally perched on the little stone wall. Erik was surprised to see her so at ease and friendly, but then he could tell from the way her eyes darted about that she was forcing the overzealous tone. He sighed a little, and resumed his seat. "But I have come to tell you something- Pali told me that we are...we are meant to be singing together tonight. Pali said that the clan needed a new musical attraction and he asked me if I would sing with you. I- I said yes."
"Oh." Erik replied in an indifferent voice, fighting not to show his elation on his face or in his tone. When he next saw Pali, he was going to tell him what a genius he truly was- the plan had worked! She had agreed to sing with him! "Well, I am happy to agree to this arrangement- it will be an honour to sing with you. Perhaps we can even learn from each other, both of us being outsiders and a little lost in this clan."
"That's...funny." Christine mused aloud, her tone odd as she tipped her head to one side with a hint of a real smile playing at her lips, wreaking havoc on Erik as his heart began to stutter erratically and his face began to heat up. Please, he thought wretchedly, please do not let me blush like some stupid young fool simply because she smiled. "I was thinking that very thing earlier."
"Perhaps this was meant to be, then." Erik replied smoothly, realising as she blushed prettily that this conversation was meant for some fluffy haired young man trying to woo a beautiful young woman. Christine suited her role, the epitome of beautiful, but Erik again felt the surge of guilt crash over him as he realised that the lies were, once again, flowing freely from his tongue.
It was scarily easy to weave this elaborate facade, to pretend that he was a complete stranger as she thought she was to him, and Erik felt sickened as he realised again that this was him using her mental state as an advantage to his scheming and plotting. Perhaps the end would not justify the means- perhaps, even though every intention he held was good and for her benefit, he was treading a path from which there was no return. A path that would come back to haunt him once her memories were returned.
"Erik, may I ask you a question?" Christine ventured shyly, pulling Erik from his gloomy thoughts and forcing him to return to normality, nodding once to allow her to continue. "Why...why are you touring with the clan? Pali spoke so highly of you as a musician- surely you could do far better than this travelling con?"
Erik had been set to smile and nod, or shake his head, to whatever question she had asked- what was difficult about this was that he was never sure whether he was being too familiar with her, or too cold as a result of trying not to seem desperate. Acting as if he did not know her, when he probably knew her better than anyone else, was a feat he was certain he had not yet mastered- but questions such as these were far more worrying and difficult to navigate; Erik had no response to give, and was left floundering for a few painfully silent moments to think of what on Earth to say to her.
He didn't want to sound as if he liked the gypsy way of doing things, or as if he were a part of their life and culture- he wanted to show her that he was like her, despairing and stuck in a situation that he could not escape from, hoping that a mutual disgust might bring them closer together. Of course, the truth was not an option- not yet, anyway.
"I..." Erik felt heat flood his face as she looked at him as if he were insane, struggling to respond to what should have been an easy question. In a desperate attempt to start feeding some truth into the facade, Erik made the decision to be as honest as he could without compromising everything he, Pali and a reluctant Nadir had decided upon. "I am in a predicament that has no easy answer and travelling with this clan, when an old friend offered me the chance, seemed the best option out of a poor selection. I am in need of the money that playing music here provides, with no home to go to due to other circumstances that- well, there is no need to dwell. I was enslaved here as a child, rather like you, and although I loathe returning Pali made me an offer and I am not in a situation that allows me to refuse." He saw that she was staring at him, aghast and a little alarmed by the extent of what he had openly revealed to her. "I...I'm sorry, I didn't meant to alarm you, I-"
"No, don't be sorry. I...I am just a little shocked that you- I'm sorry, but do you mean to say that you have no family? You are alone?" Christine asked in a stricken yet desperately hopeful voice, her expression shifting from horrified to sadness as she went to say something but then bit the words back, as if she wasn't sure if her words would cause offense or pain. Erik watched her carefully, seeing how she steeled herself to continue speaking, as if it required great courage to do such a thing. "You have no-one to go to, no-one to care for you, no-where to escape to and know that you are safe and loved and happy?"
Erik realised with a shudder that she was near tears, desperately probing to find if he- someone she only knew as a mysterious stranger that she would have to sing with- was just like her. Oh my goodness, he thought in one second of panic before composing himself and deciding that this was a good thing, what have I done?
"No people or places to speak of. My mother hated me and was, I think, rather terrified of how strongly she loathed me- she is dead now. My father died before I was born." Erik could speak of his parents, his poor unkind mother who had been terrified of him and his deathlike appearance and his father who belonged in idle musings of 'what could have been' more than reality, without a care. He had lost that sense of betrayal, or that feeling of being cheated out of happiness by fate and the nature of his mother, and their names and roles in his life had faded into insignificance. "I do have a companion, but he travels with me and faces similar problems to myself. It's not a bad existence- I'm not lamenting to you and complaining, just...just telling someone who seems to really care."
Christine had to press her trembling fingertips to her mouth to stop a little gasp escaping along with the hot tears that threatened to spill down her grimy face. She looked at the elusive, mysterious and incredibly odd man before her in a whole new light, seeing a part of herself and her own predicament in him; she decided, with another quivering gasp, that they were the same. If she was to make alliance and befriend anyone in this horror filled place, it would be him. Her heart felt lighter inside her chest, making her feel dizzy and uncertain and terribly glad for the solidity of the wall she sat on; her heart so often felt as if it were a dead weight inside her, long dormant and useless, but now it was skipping and fluttering.
Such a sensation spurred her on to speak the words she would normally have cowered from, far too shy to be so forward in her declarations, but she ached for companionship and someone to simply nod and understand when she burst into ridiculous tears.
"We both know hardship, then. I am, too, tangled within this web of cruelty and slavery, with no family or other options to allow me to escape this dratted place- I owe the clan, which rather forces me to stay, but I thought I was alone in this helplessness...you must understand how wondrous it feels to know that there is someone to understand you?" she blurted the words, as if lingering on them would make the ordeal so much worse. But Erik was not focusing on her desperation- his attention was turned fully to the fact that she owed the clan.
"You owe this gypsy clan? How could you ever owe them if they keep you here by force?" Erik invited her to explain, curious to hear if her version of events matched the other accounts he had heard from Pali, and his own assumptions made from hearing this. She seemed uneasy and reluctant to reveal such things, her eyes lowered as she began to softly stroke the rough stone beneath her, but still she spoke.
"They...this will sound so very odd, so please do not worry if you do not understand. They found me and brought me here- supposedly they saved me from some dreadful thing, though I am sure that the damsel in not usually saved only to be enslaved by the hero." Christine said bitterly, suddenly bringing a loose piece of the stonework crashing against the bulk of the wall. "The truth is that I am ignorant and dumb to everything in my own life- I do not know why, but I have no memories. Nothing at all, save distant recollections of my early childhood and- and my father, dying. They found me, supposedly, in some cheap bar drenched in blood and suffering a serious head wound. They took me and saved my life, they claim- I don't know how I came to be in such a place, I don't know why I was there at all. And the dreadful hopelessness of my situation culminates in the fact that now I cling to you and beg you to answer my questions with words that mirror my own, for the only person I recall meeting and not hating now is you. The rest gawp and use me for whatever they desire, as if I have no will or ability of my own- and thus, the fact is that you are the only vaguely civilised man, aside from my father, that I have ever met! Ha!"
She cut off her rant abruptly to fiercely wipe tears from where they had spilled out of her wide, childlike eyes that seemed to beg him not to turn her away, imploring that he might be a friend and someone to rely upon in this strange world she was trapped in. Erik had to pin his arms to his sides in order to remain composed, restraining himself from simply grabbing her and pulling her into a fierce embrace as he promised that she would never have to feel so alone and abandoned again. It was killing him, slowly yet surely as he was forced to stand and watch her so alone and lost and with him so able to tell her the truth and end her suffering- but he couldn't do that. Erik felt sweat drip disgustingly down his spine and his words went to mush, unable now to form a coherent sentence that would offer even a shred of comfort in reply to such an outburst. He stood up quickly from the wall and began to pace at a ferocious rate, unable to look into her eyes.
"I- I assume they will want us to sing together tonight, then." He blurted in a strangled voice, refusing to look as her face fell and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. "We will need to- to think of what we should sing."
"Yes." She agreed in an emotionless voice, not daring to admit through her tone how crushed she felt by his inability to respond- how truly stupid she felt. She barely knew this man, and yet she had already poured out every problem facing her and had expected him to respond with all the right words, declaring unfailingly friendship at the same time.
"What songs do you know, Christine? I suppose that you can sight read?"
"I can." She replied in that same cold, unfeeling voice, not able to force her gaze upwards to look at him.
"Well, then, I have plenty of sheet music that we can sift through and decide from." He smiled gently at her, trying to coax her back into her previous calm state, and when she looked up the iciness did seem to have melted in her eyes. "Perhaps you will even already know some of the songs. Come on."
Erik walked beside her on their silent journey to his tent, very much aware of her presence beside him, as if she were giving of some strange aura that only he could detect. He was also very aware that his hand was barely a centimetre from her own- if he had dared, he could have reached for hers and held it.
His mind was buzzing with possibility as they made their way through the tent maze, knowing that when he did present his vast musical collection to her there would be pieces from Hannibal, Il Muto and more hidden amongst the endless sheets. He was hoping that if she came across them, she would remember them, and then those singing pieces he had taught her or that she had sung onstage she might start to recall some details from her past and hopefully end this lie crafting sooner rather than later. Surely, he comforted himself, she must recall something of those bittersweet days when he had been a tutor and guardian, teaching her to sing those operatic gems so that she became the mistress of the music, her voice commanding everything else and taking on some ethereal quality that had caused her audiences to gape in delighted wonder.
As they reached the colourful tent, Erik could barely hold back the excited laughter, busting into the lopsided mess and grabbing folder after folder of music before spreading them out all over the floor, as if they were some brilliant cloth. Christine knelt in the middle of them, her eyes wide with astonishment as she took in just how vast his collection was, joy starting to form a smile of her face as her fingertips touched the sheet music, just as she had done when she was a little girl playing at her father's feet. Erik stood back and watched her gaze in awe, glad that she was happier now even if nothing else came from this.
"There are so many pieces, so many to choose from!" she laughed, as excited as a child on Christmas morning, and Erik felt an honest grin creep onto his face. "I do recognise some of them, from when I was a child and my father taught me to sing- Mozart, Handel...but what are these?"
Erik watched with bated breath as Christine's eyes caught sight of the oddly scripted scores for Don Juan Triumphant, the copies that had not been burnt in the orchestra pit when the chandelier had imploded with the stage and set it on fire, no doubt. He watched, mystified, as she picked up the yellowed paper and as her eyes hungrily followed the lines of melody, drinking it in with an enthralled gasp of wonder as she realised what the music entailed. "Why this is...this music, it is so very beautiful!"
Erik heard as she found a particular phrase she liked and hummed it under her breath, his heart sinking as he realised what piece of music it was and seeing that she did not leap up with sudden recollections or seem to be affected in any way other than being appreciative of the sound. The haunting melody made him shiver with the memory, yet she did not seem at all affected, and the smile on his face as she passed the music onto him was forced.
"The Point of No Return?" she asked in a delighted voice, already sifting through the music in search of other wonderful pieces. "Who composed it, do you know? I couldn't find a name, and yet it must be the work of one of the major composers, surely..."
Erik looked down at the yellowed paper and traced the notes written in his own hand, remembering how angry he had been that horrible night, how murderous his intentions had been as he had joined her onstage- until it had all faded away in duet with the very woman sat near him now, who had that night proclaimed undying love for him and now could not remember him at all. Perhaps, just like in his composition, the bridge to that time and to Christine's memories was well and truly burnt. It was hardly an uplifting prospect.
"I composed it, Christine." He coughed lightly, not wanting to seem bigheaded but then wishing that he had been a little more open as she gave him such a look of awe that it seemed she was that little girl again, sad wide eyed and enthralled as she listened to her beloved Angel of Music in the draughty chapel, the candles flickering in the darkness.
"You composed this?" she repeated, reaching for the composition again and gazing down upon the notes with fascination. "That is amazing. Truly amazing- you are so skilled."
"Thank you." Erik replied softly, smiling at the way she continued to search through the piles of sheet music like a child in a toy shop, delighting in each thing she found and seeing each individual page of music as brilliant and exciting. She looked oddly stunning, too- her long curls wild, the clothes she wore bright and contrasting against the expanse of black and white notation. So lost in the strange joy of seeing her like this, a question that had been plaguing him slipped out before he could stop it. "Christine, how were you chosen to be a singing act in this clan? Had someone heard of your father perhaps...?"
Christine looked up from the music, taken off guard by such a strange question. It almost seemed a personal query, as if wrong to be asked by a total stranger, and yet here she was alone in a tent, rolling on the floor giggling with delight surrounded by his music as he watched her, the very same total stranger who now asked the question. It was a stark reminder that she barely knew this man, even though she felt oddly at ease around him in this moment, as if he were not a total stranger.
"I already told you that I know none of the details or reasons behind why I was injured in a bar, or how I seem to have lost every memory." She began to speak uneasily, trying to think at the same time as explaining all she could to him. "The clan took me in, bathed my wounds and cared for me, and then once we were touring and I was better the leaders decided that I should sing. They gave no explanation, and I was terrified- I didn't even know if I could sing, as all I knew of my musical ability was my father trying to teach me at five years old. But they put me in a tent with a gypsy who could read music, playing a piano they must have stolen from somewhere, and he told me to sing any song I knew. I did that, and later he asked me if I could read music- I could, so from there we began to perform full songs with accompaniment. The leaders never gave a reason for making me sing, but it turned out that I could sing and they were happy with that, so they made me keep singing. That is how it has been for this last year spent touring with the clan. That is how it will always be."
Erik was silent as he absorbed the information, a little saddened by her resigned tone but not able to dwell on that in light of this new information. It was still very odd, as if something wasn't quite right- she and Pali had told the same tale, of Christine being taken from a bar, injured, and having no memories. There had been no mention of thugs, kidnap, being held hostage...and how did the gypsy leaders seem to know so much about her that they knew to place her as a singer? Why had the gypsies decided to "save her" anyway? Or perhaps-
"Erik? We still need to choose our songs- it's getting late."
Erik looked up, startled out of his thoughts. It was true that it was getting late- he could see the shadows and the fiery orange ball that was the setting sun through a gap in the sacking that made up the sagging tent. Erik was ever an optimist where Christine Daae's capabilities were concerned, memories or no memories, but even he had to accept that it would be impossible even for her to learn a song in less than an hour, to any worthy level of success anyway. He peered around him again at the endless spread of music, wishing he had been a little less impulsive and laid it out in an orderly manner, but she had been so happy to sit amongst all those score sheets...
"Christine-" he began to say, the stress of the moment audible in his voice as he got onto his knees and started to frantically leaf through the endless sheets of thin paper.
But the girl had already found yet another piece of music that she liked, excitedly grabbing the paper and waving it about gleefully with a smile that, despite his anxiety, made Erik feel as if he were melting. He tried to work out what music it was, so that he might get to work straight away or gently put her off the idea, but the way she held it meant that he could not see it- he motioned with one hand for her to continue, not sure if he would be able to speak calmly when she was smiling at him like that.
"Erik, we must perform this piece if nothing else- it's so beautiful and I know it so well, all you need do is play the accompaniment!" she sounded happy, euphoric even, and Erik reached for the music with a laugh that could not be held back. As his fingers made contact with the better quality paper, feeling the weight of several sheets of quality print music, his eyes finally could see the notes and he didn't even need to read the title to know what piece of music she had so happily seized and claimed to know and love. It was enough to make his blood run cold and his heart thump faster and faster with the desperate hope- the song was her debut song, the first operatic solo she had ever performed, from the opera Hannibal. "If we perform this as our main song, then we can stumble through a few other famous pieces by Mozart and Handel- no one will know if I make a few mistakes, I hope. I also thought to try an old Swedish folk tale that is sung to the same tune every verse- you will pick that up with no trouble, I'm sure."
But Erik felt too numb with adrenaline to continue the meaningless chatter. She knew the song- how could it be that she knew it? Was it possible that parts, fragments of no significance, from her memories could be coming back already, just because he was near her again?! The tumult of emotion grew inside Erik, threatening to bubble over like a cooking pot on the fire, and Christine must have noticed that something was the matter as she broke off from whatever she was saying and looked at him quizzically.
"Christine, how do you know this song?" Erik asked in a dull voice, hastily going to add further explanation for the query upon seeing her frown at him. His voice sounded uncaring and lifeless, but only to hide the hysteria that he knew would soon take hold of him if he was not careful. "Only this song is from an opera...sung to a full orchestra, by a classically trained soprano, during one of the acts of the opera Hannibal. It is an odd and difficult choice for a childhood singing lesson, so I wondered where you might have heard it and learned it?"
Christine could hear the urgency in his tone, despite his attempts to mask it, and her stomach immediately knotted up and her smile disappeared from her face as she continued to stare at him in confusion. She had not thought it before; lost in the moment, happily gripping onto the music she knew and loved so well...she knew the song, of that she was most certain. The lyrics filled her mind even now, as if testing herself, and the tune danced on the tip of her tongue without thought. But Erik, Erik with all his logical kindness and musical sense, had raised a very good point that contradicted her firm grasp of this supposedly difficult operatic aria and her previously good mood was soon disintegrating, replaced by a raw sense of fear.
How did she know this song? Her father had been a little mad at times, but she knew he would never have attempted to teach a five year old such a song- the notes were shockingly high and the various trills and tremolos existed only in the capabilities of a classically trained opera singer, which she was most definitely not. The fact that she did not know so much, even about trivial matters such as how she had learned a song, made Christine feel terribly insecure and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up in the corner of the tent and cry until she felt less vulnerable. Erik's odd yellow eyes were staring at her, as if the world rested upon her answer, but she had no answer to give.
"In honesty, I am not at all sure as to how I know this song." She replied in a voice that trembled far less than she was at that moment. Erik fought to regain composure and to not let the disappointment show on his face, not wanting to upset her, reminding himself that if such a trivial thing had returned to her, perhaps matters of greater significance would also return in time. "Why? Does it matter, then?"
Having persuaded himself that her memories would return in time, as long as he remained in her presence, Erik was feeling unusually optimistic. He reached out for the wads of music that they would need for tonight before also taking his violin, grinning a little madly as he checked that the pristine instrument was still nestled snugly in its case for no reason other than this mad sense of optimism and hope.
"No, Christine, it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all."
Later that evening, when the sky became an expanse of dark blue velvet adorned with twinkling diamonds, and as the moon cast her gentle beams onto the earth below, the repertoire of several classics, a few Swedish lullabies and folk tales and one challenging yet beautifully executed operatic aria filled the camp with music, luring in the endless crowds and presenting to them a quality of a show they had not expected.
Under the stars, out in the cool night air, an odd looking man serenading the moon with his hauntingly perfect music was accompanied by the seraphic voice of a young woman who must be an angel on Earth for the quality of her voice. They were lost in their duet, gone with the pulse and the flow of the music, and lost within each other as they crafted the music of myths and legends right there before the eyes and ears of the amazed spectators.
Some of the male visitors, admittedly, would have preferred a strip tease or at least something a little less dignified and sophisticated, but even the most leering of visitors found themselves enthralled by the music, paying large sums of money at the end of the songs.
Pali and Nadir, having managed to escape the arduous tasks of money grabbing or standing on top of buckets or barrels to call out the acts, hid behind the nearest tent and watched as Erik and Christine sang beautifully together, creating ethereal music and even smiling shyly at one another like two young lovers, the slight pink blush just visible on her face in the pearly moonlight. Pali, noticing this and feeling the need to make his triumph in bringing this plan together known, nudged Nadir and gave his a beaming grin, teeth glinting a little in the moonlight. Nadir rolled his eyes and prepared for the onslaught of boastful bragging he knew was soon to follow, not actually minding all that much due to the successes Erik was now enjoying.
"See? I told you this plan would work, you pessimist!" Pali teased in a whisper, his eyebrows wiggling mischievously. He looked like an imp, a cheeky fairy creature, and Nadir fought the urge to bat him aside and stand well away from him.
"Me, a pessimist?" he hissed back, sounding far more annoyed than he actually felt. "You can hardly claim all the glory here, anyway- one performance means nothing."
"Oh, hush, you gloomy Persian and look at them! How could you need more proof that things will work out as smoothly as I had planned?" Pali sounded pleased with himself, exaggerating his input and clearly enjoying the feeling of success. His eyes were sparkling like a child, and Nadir found that he couldn't take that from him, even if he wanted to. "She is utterly enthralled by him- see how she smiles at him!"
"Yes, and he is using her memory loss to his advantage, playing games and weaving lies." Nadir argued, but it was half hearted. "Yes, Pali, I see that. She does look very happy. And he, the fool, looks as if he could keel over from bliss any moment now. Lovely music...oh you complete oaf, Erik, why are you worrying about this at all. She clearly is fascinated by him...I just hope he continues with such success."
The night rolled on, the duet surging and soaring right up into the wispy clouds to greet the moon itself. The heavenly music filled the night air entirely, and continued to do so long after the last visitor left the camp.