Author's note: I'm happy to tell you that we've reached review no. 300. Isn't that great? I certainly have the most wonderful readers of all.

Chapter Sixty-Three

September 14th 1892: Christine

Raoul had sent me away. The sentence repeated itself over and over in my head while I wandered through the house. I heard it as I opened the wardrobe in the bedroom, taking out a few clothes and putting them into a small suitcase. I heard it as I fetched a bar of soap, a comb and some other articles from the bathroom. I heard it as I grabbed my handbag and a coat from the coat rack.

While a part of my mind was busy with hearing that one sentence, another part worked automatically. It stated that I needed a few clothes, so that I wouldn't have to wear my elegant evening dress in the morning and attract the attention of curious neighbours. I also needed things to wash myself with, a coat because it surely was cold by now and my handbag because it contained my purse. Maybe a bit of money would make it easier to persuade Gabriel to take me to the opera in the middle of the night.

I was ridiculously grateful that those parts of my mind were occupied. As long as they had something to do, I didn't have to wonder why I was doing all that, why I didn't simply refuse to go. My feet carried me out of the house and to the stable, where I could indeed still see light. So the coachman had not gone home yet. I found him at the far end of the building, grooming one of the horses. Its chestnut body was shining in the candlelight.

"Gabriel?" I called, approaching him. The horse snorted nervously at the sound of my voice and the sudden movement. "Why are you still here?"

"Oh, it's you, Madame," he said, walking around the animal, but staying close to it. "When we arrived here after the opera, I noticed that Ètoile was restless and suspected her state could develop into a colic. So I stayed in the stable to watch her." His voice sounded a little defiant, as if he had to justify himself. But of course I wasn't angry at him. On the contrary: I was glad that he took care of the horses.

Standing on tiptoe I peered into the box.

"Is everything all right with her now?" I asked.

Gabriel nodded.

"She's fine. Maybe it's only the hot weather that made her feel bad. It affects animals just like humans. I thought a little grooming could help her. Sometimes horses need to be spoilt as well…" He winked at me, then he seemed to remember who he was talking to. "I'm sorry, Madame," he muttered quickly, bowing his head. "I didn't mean to sound disrespectful."

"You don't have to worry about that," I assured him. I certainly preferred such a behaviour to Jacques' icy politeness. "The reason why I've come here is to ask you a favour. I know it's very late, but I need to get to the opera." Noticing the incredulous glance he threw me I went on hastily: "I forgot my handbag there… my other handbag, that is, and there's something very important in it. So would it be possible to take me to the opera again?".

"Of course," he replied readily. If he was annoyed by my request, he didn't show it. "I'm finished here anyway, and Ètoile has behaved normally for the last half an hour. I'm free to go."

"Thank you," I breathed.

I used the time Gabriel needed to prepare the black gelding in the box next to Ètoile's to wander around in the stable. By now, every single horse had its head over the door of its box and was craning its neck to see what was going on this late at night. Smiling about those curious creatures I patted a few of them as I walked by. How simple life as a horse had to be! All that mattered to them at the moment was whether apart from my caresses I also had some carrots for them.

Finally I sat down on a bale of straw next to the door, watching the horses rather than stroking them. I had nothing to feed them with and didn't want to disappoint them. It was more than enough that I seemed to disappoint most people close to me. Erik and Raoul both thought I didn't love them enough or not in the right way. And I? I probably was the person most disappointed by me. At the age of twenty-eight my life should have moved along the same old track. I had a husband, children, a big house, yes, even servants. I should have been content. Instead, I longed for something I couldn't even name.

Could Erik really be the solution for my problems? Raoul seemed to think so, or he wouldn't have sent me to him. But then, it was difficult to understand my husband these days. I couldn't even tell whether he truly was of the opinion that making love to my former teacher would improve our situation. Perhaps he was only worried about my well-being and thought Erik could give me something I missed.

"Madame? The coach is ready." Hearing Gabriel's voice all of a sudden almost made me fall off the bale of straw. Apparently I had been so lost in thought that I hadn't even noticed him leading the horse out of the stable to the coach. Hastily I stood up, grabbed my suitcase and the handbag and walked after him, extinguishing the light on my way out. One or two horses neighed softly. It sounded like a farewell.

The journey to the opera didn't take long since the streets were nearly empty. Occasionally we passed another coach, the occupants of which were possibly returning from a late dinner after a performance at the theatre or something similar. Raoul and I had done that every now and then, coming home tired, but happy, often sinking into our bed to do what he expected me to do with Erik now. I shook my head. The whole story hadn't become any clearer since the last time I had thought about it. On the contrary: It seemed to get more complicated by the second.

When we arrived at the large building, Gabriel jumped up from the coachbox and opened the door of the coach for me.

"Would you like me to come in with you or wait outside?" he asked, reaching over to hand me my suitcase while I climbed out of the coach.

"Oh… no, no, you can leave," I said quickly. "But of course you don't have to walk home in the middle of the night. Why don't you take the coach back to the house and sleep in one of the guestrooms?"

"That is a very generous offer, Madame," he told me. "But how will you get home then? It's much more dangerous for a woman to be out in the street at night than for a man. I understand that the search for your handbag could take some time, with you having to find someone to open all the doors first and things like that. But I don't mind."

I felt little beads of sweat forming on my forehead. My mind was so full of the conversation I had had with Raoul that it was hard to come up with an explanation.

"My… erm, my business here will take till morning," I finally replied, giving up on finding an excuse. "It'll be easy to get a coach then."

"Oh, I see," he gave back, a knowing smile spreading across his handsome features. "And I guess your husband better shouldn't know about it. I won't tell anyone."

"My husband already knows about it," I called over my shoulder as I went to the Rue Scribe entrance.

The door wasn't locked, which surprised me a little. Did Erik still leave it open day and night, even though he had to know I wouldn't come back? But then, here I was, grateful that I didn't have to try the main entrance, praying someone had left it open. I entered the building quickly, then stood at the other side of the door for a few moments, listening hard. There was no sound. If the singers and dancers celebrated their first night, they obviously didn't do it here. I couldn't blame them. After all that had happened they had probably been just as keen on getting away as the audience. Erik and I had the building to ourselves.

Holding my suitcase and handbag in one hand and a lantern I had taken with me from the coach in the other one I made my way downwards. Of course it was possible that he was in a different part of the opera, but I could as well start with the most likely option. If he wasn't home, I could wait there till he came back.

He was there. Even though there was no light, I knew it was soon as I pushed open the entrance door. I could hear a faint sound coming from the room that should have been mine. I approached it as quietly as possible and peered inside. At first I hardly saw anything, for apart from the glow of my lantern, it was completely dark. I could only make out a figure lying on the bed. A moment later I also recognised the sounds: Erik was lying on his stomach, crying into the pillows.

The sight would have been enough to make anyone's heart melt. I let my belongings fall to the floor unceremoniously, slipped out of my coat and the shoes and was at his side moments later. As I didn't want to tower over him, I lay down next to him, placing a hand on his back. He didn't seem to have noticed me until now, but the physical contact made him jump and roll onto his side, ready to defend himself against whichever attacker might be there. His eyes widened in surprise as he realised who his visitor was.

"Christine?" he whispered. "Is it really you?"

"Of course it's really me," I gave back with a smile. "Look, you can touch me." I took his hand and brought it to my hair. His fingers were trembling as he stroked it. I used the time he needed to take in the information that I was truly here to utter a question.

"Why were you crying?"

"I don't know…" he muttered. "You were gone… and my boy was gone… and I felt…"

"Lonely?" I finished his sentence. "But I'm back now. So you can be happy again."

He gave me an ironic little smirk, indicating that he rarely was happy.

"Why are you here?" he then asked. "Has something happened to you? Or to Philippe? Do you need my help?" During the last words his voice had got a worried undertone, and I had to seize his hand again to keep him from getting up.

"No, no," I assured him. "We're all fine. I've come here to… to…" It occurred to me that I had no idea what to tell him. So I simply kissed his lips briefly.

"You came here to kiss me?" Erik breathed. "That's very nice of you, but it's hardly worth the journey."

"It's not just the kissing," I contradicted him. Taking a deep breath I placed his hand on my cleavage. "We can do anything we want."