September 18th 1892: Christine
I had accepted Jean's offer to let the children take a bath without hesitation. I knew very well how relaxing a bath could be, and right now, they needed all the relaxation they could get. They were both very excited, to the point where they couldn't stand still for as long as a moment.
There was quite a bit of nervousness in Phlippe's excitement, though. It had become better after Raoul had told him the bad men couldn't come back, but his gaze still darted to the door of the bathroom every so often, and every unfamiliar sound made him jump. Antoinette, on the other hand, fought her nervousness in the one way she knew: by talking even more than usual. The bathroom was filled with her chatting. All in all, a bath would do both children good. All we needed now was the promised hot water.
My daughter only stopped talking when there was a knock at the door. Predictably, Philippe jumped and threw me an anxious glance. I opened the door and saw two servants standing outside, carrying buckets filled with water. They emptied them into the bathtub and left again, only to return shorty afterwards with more water. After about a quarter of an hour, the bathtub was full, and the servants left for good, after I had made it clear that I didn't need anything more and was quite capable of letting my children take a bath without someone's help.
Antoinette could undress on her own and started doing so immediately, but Philippe needed my help. I took off piece after dirty piece of clothing, inhaling sharply when I saw what I revealed. My son's little body was bruised in more than one place, his knees were grazed, and there were scratches on his hands and arms, probably from pieces of glass.
My daughter didn't look any better. She also had bruises on his upper arms, at the spots where the henchman of Marielle's father had held onto her. I gazed at my dirty, injured and tired children and could hardly keep myself from bursting into tears. Children were not supposed to look like this, and children were not supposed to be nervous and anxious. Wordlessly, I wrapped my arms around both of them and held them close for a long time.
It was only when I recalled that the water was growing cold that I let go of them and helped them into the bathtub. It would have been big enough for two adults to use at the same time, and the size was more than enough for the two children. For a while, they simply sat there, taking deep breaths, their eyes closed. I could practically see their sore muscles relax. A smile appeared on their faces.
I was smiling as well. It was true that my body was still aching, and I felt dizzy and exhausted, but it was not as bad as it had been. It was impossible for me to see my children happy without being happy myself. The prospect of perhaps taking a bath myself a little later made me feel even better.
Antoinette opened her eyes first. I handed her a bar of rose-scented soap, and she started lathering herself. When she was finished with her arms, there was another knock at the door. Philippe's eyes snapped open, and he faced the door, looking scared.
"We don't need anything," I called sharply, annoyed that someone had disturbed my son, just when he had looked so peaceful.
"But, it's me, Meg," a familiar voice outside said. "My mother is here as well. Don't you want to see us?"
"Of course I do," I hastened to give back, feeling mildly embarrassed. "Come in."
The door swung open, and Meg and Mme.Giry stepped inside. Mme.Giry was pale and looked older than usual, whereas Meg's face was unnaturally pink. I realised that she hadn't removed her stage make-up yet.
"How are you, Christine?" Mme.Giry asked, her face full of concern.
"I don't know," I said, involuntarily giving the same reply I had given Jean. "At the moment, I'm fine. I'm trying not to think about what happened or what could have happened. The last time I did so, I passed out." I gave them a lopsided smile, which they did not return. I had hardly ever seen Meg that serious.
"Is there anything we can do for you?" she wanted to know.
"Yes, there is," I answered without thinking. "Please don't ask me to tell you the whole story again. I feel as if I had already told it a hundred times today."
"You're lucky then," my friend muttered. "Jean has told me everything he knew, and I told Maman. So we won't bother you with questions."
"Thank you," I mumbled gratefully.
"You can bother me with questions," Antoinette called cheerfully from behind me.
Mme.Giry and Meg exchanged a glance of deep understanding.
"Why don't I stay here with the children for a while?" Mme.Giry then suggested. "You can go with Meg and see whether you can find clothes for the three of you."
I nodded. It sounded like a good idea. I knew I didn't have to be worried when the children were with Mme.Giry. She knew both of them since birth and would take good care of them.
The children didn't seem to mind either. They were beaming at Mme.Giry. Antoinette started talking right away. They surely wouldn't miss me.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," I told them. Then Meg and I left the room.
After the warmth of the bathroom, the corridor seemed very cold. I shivered slightly.
"We'll find something nice and warm to wear for you," Meg assured me. Then her face split into a wide smile. "Did you hear that?" she asked. "Something nice and warm! I'm slowly transforming into my mother."
I couldn't help giggling a little as well. It was true that it hadn't sounded like Meg at all.
"It's good to hear you laugh," she remarked softly. "I know you didn't often have the reason to do so in the last hours, but it'll all change, now that you're with us." I willed myself to believe her. It sounded so good.
Meg led me to a small room. When she lit a lamp, I saw that it only contained a large mirror, an even larger wardrobe and a dressing table.
"This is my new dressing room," she explained. "Jean had it redecorated for me only a few weeks ago. That's why you haven't seen it yet. It was a present for our wedding day. You know that he always complained about me rummaging in the old wardrobe in our bedroom while he still wanted to sleep. So I'm using this room now, where I can be as noisy and take as much time as I please."
I smiled. It was indeed a nice room. I'd have liked to have one myself. It had to be wonderful to have an extra room for one's clothes. Perhaps I could persuade Raoul to – Then it came to me. I didn't have a home anymore, and I didn't have any clothes except for those I was wearing at the moment.
Tears started trickling down my face, and I was unable to hold them back. I had lost everything, so I at least had the right to cry about it, hadn't I? Meg made a sympathetic sound.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Christine," she muttered miserably. "I didn't mean to make you upset. I'm so insensitive…"
"No, no, it's all right," I assured her, giving her a tiny smile. "It was not your fault. The pictures come up all the time anyway… Shall we look for clothes now?"
Meg didn't look as if she believed my recovery completely, but she nodded and opened the doors of the wardrobe, while I wiped my eyes with my fingers.
"You can take whatever you like," she offered kindly.
"Can we try to find something for the children first?" I asked. I was a little worried that seeing Meg's clothes in all their splendour would make me burst into tears again.
"Of course," she said readily. Pulling open drawers, she went on: "I've already thought about it. Your little ones wouldn't fit into any of my normal clothes, but I've kept some of my old ones… this one, for instance.".
She took out what looked like a pale pink piece of cloth and unfolded it. It turned out to be a short summer dress.
"Oh, it'll be perfect for Antoinette," I told her. "It's just the right size, and she'll love wearing a dress that comes from you. But what will we do with Philippe?"
"That's more difficult," she acknowledged. "Could he perhaps wear one of Jean's shirts as a nightshirt? And in the morning, you'll go out and buy a few things anyway, won't you?"
I shrugged.
"Raoul and I haven't had time to talk about it yet," I replied quickly, trying hard not to blush. I didn't want her to see that something was wrong.
"Because you were too busy arguing?" Meg asked. Seeing the incredulous expression on my face, she explained: "Jean told me that he overheard you having an argument on the coach, but he didn't understand any details. He doesn't know what it was about, and – ".
"Well, poor Jean," I snapped. "How unfortunate for him that he didn't understand every little detail and couldn't tell you about it! But I have to disappoint you. I won't satisfy your curiosity either!"
I snatched the dress out of her hand and hurried away.