August 7th 1892: Erik
After a short while we found the child in the room that should have been Christine´s. Actually it still was her room for I hadn´t changed much. Though my hope of her returning to me one day had dwindled over the years, I couldn´t bring myself to using it for something else. The only difference was a huge cage in the corner next to the bed, beautifully ornamented in silver and gold.
And it was in front of the cage that Philippe stood, gazing at its occupant. A bird of paradise, about three feet tall, sat on the perch. The plumage had every colour one could imagine, from bright yellow and orange over scarlet and light blue to dark velvety green. Eyes, beak and claws were pitch black. I should have known we´d find the boy here, with the most extraordinary creature he had ever seen.
The moment we had entered the room Christine left her place at my side and went to him, looking at the bird with the same fascination that had seized her son. A minute or two passed in awed silence. Finally Philippe seemed to notice our presence. Not taking his eyes off the bird for a second he asked: "Why doesn´t it move? I´m here for such a long time, and it has never budged.". "Surely it´s asleep.", his mother whispered. "Maybe it can sleep with its eyes open…"
"It doesn´t move because it´s not real.", I corrected her softly. "It´s mechanical. I made it myself." Walking up to them I couldn´t help smiling. I wouldn´t have thought that Christine would fall for my illusion as well. But then, she had always been tricked easily. Perhaps she hadn´t changed that much after all.
As I approached them she took a step to the side, so that I could stand between Philippe and her. My smile widened; this gesture revealed more than a thousand words. Christine was willing to accept me as a part of her son´s life… and maybe also of her own. "It´s so beautiful.", she breathed. "Are those real feathers?" "No.", I answered. Pointing at one of the bird´s wings I explained: "Do you see how the light is reflected on it, as if the animal was flexing its wings, ready to fly away? It´s made of thousands of pearls and tiny pieces of glass." "But it must have taken you ages to produce it.", Christine whispered, glancing at me briefly. I could detect a hint of the old admiration in her eyes, and my heart leapt. Trying to pull myself together I replied humbly: "Actually it only were a few months. I wanted a very special present for my boy.".
The phrase ´my boy´ made her jump slightly, yet her reaction was drowned by the child´s. "My present?", he cried in a delighted voice. "Oh, thank you! Does that mean I can take it with me?" "I´m afraid that won´t be possible.", I told him. "It´s too heavy to carry, especially with the cage. But you can see it every time you´re here." "You know, Philippe…", Christine interjected. "…we´ve decided that… erm, Uncle Erik will become your teacher. I´ll bring you here every day, so that you can learn something, just like I bring Antoinette to Mme.Tadoux."
"Great!", the boy exclaimed, beaming at us. "And what will you teach me?" "Well, reading and writing and… and I´ll teach you how to make this bird sing." "Sing?", mother and son repeated in almost perfect unison. I nodded proudly. "Would you like to hear him?", I asked. "Him? So it´s a boy?", Philippe wanted to know, looking at the animal curiously, as if he expected it to give the answer. "Of course he is.", I said a little bitterly. "Only the male birds of paradise sing. The female ones prefer sitting on their eggs, oblivious to how much beauty their voices once contained…" Christine didn´t fail to notice the sideways glance I threw her. "It´s quite late.", she muttered. "Perhaps we should better-"
In this moment the bird´s song began, and at once she seemed to forget what she had been about to say. It was a song without words that I sent from my mouth into the bird´s beak, a cheerful melody like those of sparrows and blackbirds on a summer morning. Yes, I still remembered what they sounded like, even though I hadn´t listened to them in a very long time. Christine and her boy were fascinated, their eyes glued to the bird, which moved its head and opened and closed its beak – another illusion of mine.
Yet as I watched her something strange happened: I grew angry at her. Why did she have the right to enjoy my music whereas no one was allowed to listen to her anymore? Why had she simply stopped singing, after all the effort I had needed to turn her voice into that of an angel? And why, why had she left me alone for such a long time, only returning here because she thought she had to protect her son?
Gradually my song changed. On first glance it remained the same happy tune, but the undertone became accusing and haunting. I had practiced very long; it wasn´t difficult to place a message only Christine would understand. ´Do you hear it? Do you hear how beautiful it sounds? Your voice used to be like that. Do you remember how good it felt to sing? Remember it, child! Remember me! Remember… us!´
I repeated the sentences in my mind over and over, and it worked. Philippe stayed where he was, as cheerful as he had been all the time, but his mother turned around to face me. I had taken a few steps backwards to focus on my song, and she closed the space between us at once. Now we were standing as closely together as before, just without the pistol separating us. Our bodies were touching. And oh, how warm she was!
Automatically I continued singing, but my mind was only on her. Tentatively I wrapped my arms around her, and she melted into the embrace. The way she looked at me was pure admiration, a hundred times stronger than before. I hardly dared breathe. Her rosy lips were close, much too close. Our eyes met, and in the next moment she was standing on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against mine. It had been so long since the last time this had happened, so long… I should have been overjoyed, but after the first second all I felt was guilt. She surely didn´t want this. I had evoked feelings in her that didn´t really exist. So I couldn´t go on, no matter what my body was telling me.
"Enough!", I growled, ending the song abruptly and pushing Christine away from me. She swayed dangerously, and it seemed to take her a few moments to find her way back into reality. Then she whispered: "What have you done to me?". "Nothing… I´m sorry… You have to go now…", I told her urgently. Wordlessly she turned around and shook her son´s shoulder slightly.
Unlike her, Philippe smiled brightly when he woke up from his almost trance-like state. "That was wonderful, Uncle Erik!", he said. "Will I really learn to do such things?" "Maybe this won´t be the first thing we´ll do, but yes, you´ll learn it.", I assured him. "We´ll start the day after tomorrow. Please be here at nine o´clock." "Oh, can´t we stay for another song? The bird doesn´t look tired at all. I´m sure he´d like to sing more.", the boy pleaded, pouting slightly. Suddenly I found myself facing what was surely his strongest weapon, and I realised it would be hard to deny him a wish.
Yet today there was still his mother with us, who doubtlessly had more experience in that area than I had. "No, no, no, we have to go now.", she said firmly, taking his hand. "It´s past midnight, and Uncle Erik needs his sleep. Otherwise he´ll be too tired to teach you anything." I nodded, even though I knew that any attempt to fall asleep tonight would be in vain. The things that had happened in the last minutes were enough to keep me awake for the next week.
"You´ll find the way back?", I asked. "Of course.", Christine answered. She seemed to be both surprised and glad that I hadn´t offered to accompany them. It would have been too tempting for me. Quickly I brought them to the door. Then she and I stood in front of each other, not knowing how to say ´goodbye´. Philippe interrupted the awkward silence. "What´s the bird´s name?", he wanted to know. I smiled at him and gave Christine a questioning glance. "Orpheus.", I finally replied.
Author´s note: Orpheus is a person from Greek mythology. It is said that his voice and the sound of his lyre, a musical instrument he had invented himself, were able to tame the wildest beasts. His beloved wife Eurydice was bitten by a snake and died. Orpheus descended into the underworld and persuaded the king and queen, Hades and Persephone, to let her go. The only condition was that he had to walk in front of her without looking back. Yet eventually he did exactly this, and Eurydice had to return into the underworld. Furious with himself Orpheus decided to mourn forever and never loved a woman again.