I didn't sleep a wink, naturally. But by morning, I'd settled on a fairly plausible explanation for Mademoiselle Girard's behavior. It was all a colossal misunderstanding after all. I reckoned that she'd been telling deLozier about the theater, and the production, and all about the cast and crew and et cetera. Somewhere in all this, I decided she'd mentioned adorable little Masson, and something about how he seemed to be smitten with her, or she gave him little kisses and whatnot. And deLozier, being a regular fellow, had been trying to appear interested in what his little beloved was saying, but after awhile probably he was only half-listening, and wondering whether he himself was going to be getting a kiss anytime in the near future. The way I saw it, somewhere in all that, instead of hearing, 'Masson, Erik Rouen's dear little son', deLozier heard only 'Erik Rouen'.

So that was my explanation. I had only to explain to Mademoiselle Girard that her sweetheart, in a passion that he might be losing her to another man, had mis-heard. (I couldn't tell her that sometimes, even the very best man will permit his mind to wander a bit when his darling is relating the fascinating details of her day. I'd be kicked out of the brotherhood, like Cain cast into the wilderness.) She had only to correct this tiny misunderstanding and the course of true love would once again run smoothly.

I suppose somewhere in the permanently twisted recesses of my mind, this still seemed a rather thin theory, because as soon as we retired to the parlor with our coffee, I related the whole tale to Raoul and Reza. I put it forward as an amusing anecdote, complete with my explanation and proposed resolution, with a chuckle. Imagine my chagrin when Reza sipped his coffee and studied the carpet, and Raoul turned all pink and screwed up his perfect mouth in something resembling a grimace.

"What? What? Raoul! What?"

"I dunno, Erik…"

"You can't tell me you've never gone adrift when Manon's blathering on!"

"Oh, no. No, I have, it's just I didn't do it so soon. Not when I was trying to woo her; a man must pay strict attention then."

"So? Perhaps deLozier isn't so conscientious a suitor as you."

Reza coughed politely. "It is a bit weak, Erik."

"Stop it, Reza! What other explanation is there?"

"Well, you are quite charming, Erik," Raoul offered apologetically.

"Please!"

"No, Manon has even remarked on it. How at first, she wondered how Christine could possibly have—well, you know. But after getting to know you a bit, why, she said she could almost see it."

"Almost! That's a long way from tossing aside a dashing young man for a hopelessly married gargoyle who's never looked at you twice!" I was beginning to feel faint, because it sortof made sense. Even with my mad Creole—who, after all, was mad, so she doesn't really count—and Silke, and Anci—who doesn't really count for other reasons—I couldn't get my mind around it. Except that we'd been working so closely on the play, and the theater is a strange place. All these strong emotions one must churn up in order to create a convincing portrayal…and the way they all lionized me there…I was beginning to fear there might be something to it, even though I genuinely couldn't remember exchanging anything but the most banal pleasantries with the girl, unless we were discussing Romeo and Juliet..

It looked like my visit to Mademoiselle Girard was going to be different than I'd planned; I wanted backup. I asked Raoul to accompany me.

"Juliet, did you say?" His gorgeous grin widened and I caught That Glint in his eye. "Oh yes, my pleasure."

"Never mind."

"What?" Our blonde Romeo was crestfallen.

"What indeed. Anyway, I wasn't thinking. This is likely to be an embarrassing scene for her. It would be best kept as private as possible."

"But, Erik," Reza protested. "What if deLozier should happen upon you, calling on Mademoiselle Girard unaccompanied?"

Ew. "You're right, Reza; it's settled then. It must be you."

Reza nodded. "When do you intend to call on Mademoiselle Girard?"

"As soon as possible; I've only twenty four—well, less than that, even, now."

My old friend got to his feet. "Let me go and make myself presentable, then."

Raoul moved as if to follow Reza from the parlor, but I caught him back and signaled for silence. After I closed the door behind Reza, I turned back to him. When I met his eyes, I saw that they were dark and somber: he knew what I was about.

I opened my hands helplessly. "I want—hope—that there will be a simple resolution of this today." I sighed. "But as I was caught completely unawares, the lady's thoughts are an utter mystery to me. I have no idea what I will find."

I paused, afraid my voice would fail me.

"Raoul, I never dreamed I would be in a position to have anyone—a friend—someone to whom I might oblige myself—"

Raoul colored brightly. It was as difficult for him to hear how I'd come to love him as it was for me to say it. So I left it and pressed on to my object.

"If it should go badly today, I fear I must accept deLozier's challenge," I confessed.

"Erik—" Raoul caught himself and merely nodded. As a gentleman himself, he understood that I could not refuse, regardless of how distasteful it was. "Pray it doesn't come to that."

"Yes. Yes, but if it should, will you be my second? Will you go to deLozier's man and arrange it?"

"Of course, Erik. I'm honored." He caught my hand, overcome.

I chuckled and patted my dear comte's hand. "God preserve you from such an honor." I kissed him and beat a hasty retreat to my dressing room, before I made a weepy mess of myself.

-0-0-0-0-

Mademoiselle Girard's mother received us and sent for her daughter. We renewed our acquaintance of opening night, and the girl returned with the news that Mademoiselle declined, she was feeling indisposed. Madame remarked on the news, as Danielle had been perfectly well at breakfast.

"I beg your pardon, Madame; I would never insist but that there are several matters of some urgency concerning the theater. If I could trouble you to impress upon your daughter that we shall be as brief as possible, I would be most grateful."

Of course Madame understood; she took herself upstairs and I turned to Reza.

"Well, what do you make of that?"

"You've caught her off-guard showing up like this. Doubtless she knows that her gallant swain has had words with you."

"Well, if she's going to have me killed—or force me to run deLozier through—the least she could do is face me and explain herself." I was taking a bit of umbrage with the little baggage.

"Erik, have you forgotten what a tragic and romantic place the world is to a nineteen year old girl?"

"Egad, Reza. Remind me never to leave home again without my hip flask."

Madam duly returned and advised that Danielle would join us ever so briefly, once she had pulled herself together, weak as she was. Right. Meanwhile, we were obliged to take tea with Madame and blather about the theater and the possibility of an early frost. I wriggled and chafed and looked at the clock and thanked God Reza was there to keep the inanities bubbling along.

At long last the little tart glided into view, handkerchief clutched demurely in her pale fist, eyes downcast. She floated to the chaise and all but collapsed (most gracefully) upon it. After Reza's reintroduction, during which the little apparition refused to meet my gaze, we maintained silence until Madame said something about us wanting to get on with 'theater talk' and excused herself.

We waited; Mademoiselle gazed at some distant point off the end of her shoe. Finally, my patience—if such it could be called—was exhausted. Sensing an explosion of some magnitude, Reza placed a steadying hand on my back.

"You know why we've come, Mademoiselle," I said. I admit this was less a question than a gentle accusation.

She commenced wringing her handkerchief. "No…yes! Ohhh, Armand swore he wouldn't seek you out!" She said this last in a bit of pique, as if it makes perfect sense that a girl should cast a gentleman aside and still fully expect that he would comply with her wishes.

Lest our little bird fly before we get to the bottom of things, I donned my most soothing voice. "But he did seek me out, Mademoiselle, I assure you. What else would you expect? He believes that I have pressed my attentions on you for nefarious purposes."

Her irritation returned some color to her cheeks, and her lips pursed in aggravation. "I told him, I told him it was my fault, it was nothing to do with you!"

Suddenly, my heart leapt with hope, for it sounded as if there had been a terrible mistake, and she wasn't smitten with me after all.

"Then you didn't tell your suitor that there was something between you and me?"

She blushed furiously and darted to the window to stare out at nothing. I recognized this move, as it was one of Christine's favorites when we were arguing. "N-no." She sounded unconvincing.

"No?" I echoed.

"Not precisely. I mean, I did say that I was fond of you, but—" she fell to nibbling on her finger and refused to say anything more. I decided I could bear her dissembling no longer.

"See here, Mademoiselle Girard, your inten—former intended has called me out. He expects to hear from me tomorrow morning as to when and where he is to have the honor of killing me—"

She gasped and for the first time turned huge, horrified blue eyes on me. Seeing that I was having an impact, I pressed on.

"—or I, the unfortunate fate of killing him. Yes, Mademoiselle, it is just that serious, and the crime of it is that you and I both know that there is nothing between us. Can you say otherwise?" I demanded. "Can you look at my friend here and say that anything improper has ever passed between us?"

"No, no!" she cried, rushing back to her fainting couch.

"Then tell me," I pleaded. "Why? What is this about?"

"Please, leave me," she sniffled. "I'll tell Armand he mustn't trouble you, only don't make me say. I'm so ashamed!"

Now Reza stepped forward to work his avuncular charm. "There, Child, there's no need for all that. Nothing that is said here will ever be repeated. You have my word as a gentleman. But I beg of you to let my friend return safely to his young family. Let us have an end of this."

She wept for several minutes while my guts churned and I gnashed my teeth silently. Then, as she began to collect herself, Reza produced a fresh handkerchief, murmured some platitudes, and took her little hand in his. She looked up at him and he smiled, Yes, go on Child, and patted her hand encouragingly. And so she began to unburden herself to Uncle Reza.

"When he first came to the theater, I was like everyone, curious and thrilled in a macabre sort of way. But then, hearing his voice, his voice is so lovely," she sighed, "and soon I realized that I never even saw the mask anymore. I thought he was the most graceful, elegant man I had ever beheld."

Oh, brother. I felt myself choking and lurched for my tea.

"His dear little boy attached himself to me—I don't know why—and told me such lovely tales of all the things he does with his Papa. Is there anything more charming than a man who dotes on his children so?"

I thought I was a boring old family man; who knew?

"At first, I thought there might be some way I could attract his attention. I studied my lines and worked on everything he'd told me; I felt certain he would notice me. But on opening night, when I saw him with his wife, the way he looked at her, and his precious little girls, I saw that it was impossible. I knew it was wrong even to think of luring him away." Once again she succumbed to tears and Reza comforted her. In a few minutes she was able to continue.

"But I cannot love Armand as I love Erik. I shall never love anyone as I love Erik! It's the convent for me!" she wailed, tearing herself from Reza's grasp and falling prostrate on the couch.

Call me a cynical old fiend, but all I could think was that it was the performance of a lifetime. As I stared at her, thinking that she should be on the London stage, Reza approached me with an expectant look on his face.

"What?" I demanded.

"Speak with her, Erik."

"What shall I say? 'Don't go to the convent?' She can go to the devil for all the trouble she's caused me," I hissed.

"Erik! You've never loved someone you couldn't have?"

"She doesn't love me any more than a kitten loves a ball of yarn!" I spluttered.

"She thinks she does, man! It's real to her!" Reza glowered at me for several beats. When I still appeared unmoved (and unmoving), he growled, "Get over there!"

To make the proverbial long story short, I managed to extract a promise from the fair Danielle that, for love of me, she would permit Armand to comfort her as she allowed the tincture of time to ease her broken heart. Took a long time; many tears; many tense moments for Erik. Finally, she offered to send for the gallant Armand and call him off me. Reza and I thought it would be best if we beat a hasty escape before her passionate swain made his entrance, after securing a promise from her that she would send a message letting us know that all was well after their meeting.

I was nearly home free, but for some reason, Reza chose to make himself scarce at the very last minute. Out of consideration for the heartbroken young lady, I suspect, so she could bid me farewell in private. I made a mental note to hang him immediately we arrived home.

The moment the little viper saw we were alone, she rolled up the big artillery. "Erik," she breathed, all big blue eyes and quivery lip, clutching my skeletal paw to her chest, "Kiss me, just once. I swear I shall live on it for the rest of my life!" Though I could still appraise the relative delectability of the offering, I confess that I was utterly unmoved. I flirted with the idea of telling Christine about this entire episode once it was safely concluded, just to assure her that I was officially, unequivocally immune to any charms but hers. Either that, or I was officially, unequivocally an old geezer.

In case you're wondering, I didn't kiss the child. Well, strictly speaking, I did: a chaste little buss on her forehead. I assured her I was complimented, and I told her that I hoped she'd think of me fondly in twenty years' time when she'd be in the prime of her life with her family around her, and I'd likely be worm-fodder. Well, I put it more elegantly than that; after all, I have my reputation to think of.

-0-0-0-0-

Dinner was an undigested lump of concrete in my stomach; the 40-year old cognac was turning to gall on my tongue. Raoul and Reza watched helplessly as I paced the parlor, gnawing on the furniture. Eight-thirty in the evening and still I had no word from the hateful little tart. I was past blasphemy and about to go drown myself in the bathtub when we heard the bell. I clattered out to the front door, wild-eyed, and nearly sent Darius sprawling in the process. Tossing an apology over my shoulder, I accepted the note from the messenger and tore it open like a tiger on an antelope. Thank god Raoul was nearby with some presence of mind; he instructed the man to stand by in case a reply was wanted.

Erik Rouen

Monsieur,

I hereby withdraw my late challenge and retract any aspersions which I may have cast upon your impeccable character.

With your permission, I shall call upon you tomorrow at the previously agreed-upon hour to express my gratitude for your forbearance and to offer my hand in sincere friendship. Believe me, Monsieur, to be

Your obdt svt, & c,

Armand deLozier

I wept with relief and went upstairs to bathe my babies. I slept like a newborn, and in the morning, accepted deLozier's apology and wished him the best in renewing his suit. Poor fellow; in love with an actress.

Some months later, in the same week that auditions for the next guild production were announced, Christine and I received an invitation to the upcoming nuptials of Danielle Girard and Armand deLozier. So I suppose all's well that ends well, as the Bard himself would say.