Gustave pounded on the door at half-five, dressed and ready to go; never mind we weren't departing until nine. I sent him off with a book about Belgium so I could say a proper goodbye to his mother. Our departure was traumatic all around, actually. Christine remained convinced the boy would be kidnapped by mad mathematicians and locked in a tower at the University to subsist on bread and Belgian lambic, scratching out algebraic formulae. I'd perish as well, either of pneumonia or ravishment by frauleins who stole across the border en masse to drain my hapless corpse of all vitality. For her part, my dear Pickle clung to me and Gustave, screeching hysterically. Miri-ange and Uncle Reza's recent trip had put the fear in her; too much coming and going. I assured her we'd be back soon, and promised fancy chocolates and a special surprise, but she was disconsolate and had to be dragged into the house lest she throw herself in front of the carriage.
I inspired a few horrified stares at the station, and that was sufficient to confine me to our train compartment. Gustave could not be contained; we agreed we'd let him run all over the train until a steward dragged him back by his ear.
Funny; most days I would go six or eight hours at least without seeing Christine, but simply knowing I was leaving her behind made me morose in a couple of hours. I trusted she'd fare better and keep herself busy, at least I hoped so. Raoul described me as 'hopelessly married'.
The nice thing about Liege is that it is a French-speaking city; so we didn't have to worry about Dutch or Flemish—easily two of the most bizarre languages ever developed. Upon arriving at our hotel, I penned a quick note to M La Paige, advising him of our arrival. We were expected, having made prior contact with a letter of introduction from our tutor's friend, M Phelan. I dispatched a note to Phelan also, as he'd requested.
Gustave and I meandered along the Meuse before dinner.
"What's going to happen, Papa?"
"Well, I suspect Monsieur La Paige will ask you about your studies, and you'll be able to tell him what you especially enjoy. He will probably give you some problems to solve, and show you what he is working on. Are you worried?"
"No; it's not like a school test."
"No, it's not. It's just that we know you're especially talented at maths, the way Masson is at music, and Monsieur La Paige is an excellent judge of such things. We're hoping he'll be able to tell us how to keep you challenged between now and when the time comes for you to enter university yourself. We can't have you being bored and getting into trouble, hm?" I rumpled his hair and he blushed.
"Like Masson," he smiled.
"You think so? I don't think you'd get into Masson's sort of trouble."
"Why not?"
"Because you're Gustave. You're more likely to dismantle a clock to see how it works—thought I suspect you'd have no trouble putting it back together. Or mixing some strange potion and creating an explosion in Darius' kitchen!"
"He'd chase me with a knife if I ever did that!" We shared a laugh for a moment.
"Mama's worried he's going to want to keep me."
"She's just being a mother, and getting way ahead of herself. If anything like that should happen, we'd have a great deal to discuss—all of us together, hm? Don't worry, Son; I'm not leaving you here."
"I know." I thought I detected relief in his sigh.
-0-0-0-0-
Phelan called for us at midday. On our stroll that morning, we'd seen stands offering the local specialty, and we decided to partake for luncheon. Waffles—what a revelation. I was determined not to leave Liege without learning to fix them. Gustave and I enjoyed them best slathered with strawberries and crème fraiche. Raoul gave us the stink-eye; he'd found of late that he had to watch his diet, as he was tending toward a middle-aged spread.
"There is a God after all," I grinned, "And He is just."
"You're fortunate Gustave and Monsieur Phelan are here, or I'd tell you what I think of you and your bag of bones," he grumbled.
After Gustave and I had eaten ourselves into a blissful stupor, Phelan started talking maths with the boy. It might as well have been Flemish; before I knew it, Raoul and I were both snoozing as Phelan and Gustave chatted animatedly and filled page after page with arcane scribblings. They woke us when Phelan was taking his leave. I accompanied him down to his cab.
"He is remarkable, remarkable. He grasps these concepts intuitively; I can't wait for La Paige to see him."
Paternal pride warred with apprehension. For the first time I worried if it was right to bring Gustave. No; we could manage this, it needn't mean the end of his childhood. I was jarred from my disquiet by Phelan.
"You'll forgive me, Sir, I pray you won't think me impertinent, but we mathematicians are a curious lot. I wonder if I might ask you…" he opened.
"Not at all," I replied hesitantly.
"Some years ago, in Paris, there was a series of bizarre events in a certain theater, supposedly haunted. In the end, it appeared that the ghost—"
I nodded. "Was flesh and blood, after a fashion."
"Yes." Phelan paused. "I wonder, by any chance, if you—"
"Yes Sir, I was he," I admitted. "A long time ago now."
"Of course," Phelan rushed to reply. He appeared more fascinated and curious than alarmed, as if he was encountering some celebrity.
"As you see, I am now simply an old man, trying to live quietly. I have a wife and children, and bills to pay, and aching joints. Nothing remarkable," I added softly.
"I don't know about that. By all accounts, you are a brilliant artist."
I shook his proffered hand. "I'm just an old man, trying to live quietly," I repeated. It was an uncomfortable moment. I sensed that Phelan wanted to say more, perhaps ask more; as he'd mentioned, he was a naturally curious young man. I was grateful when he climbed into the cab and let my memories lay. As I turned back to the hotel, I closed my eyes and called up the fragrance of Christine's hair. How I longed for her to console me, but all I had for company was the Opera Ghost.
-0-0-0-0-
Next day, Phelan brought us to the university. We sat in a tremendous lecture hall, young men jostling boisterously until a small door at the bottom of the hall opened. All fell silent as a round man laden with books trundled in briskly. There were papers peeking out of the pages of his books at odd angles, giving the startling impression that he carried huge blooming flowers. He set the books on the table with a booming ker-thump, propped his hands alongside, and gazed over his glasses at the audience. His hair was whispy grey curls, giving the impression that he was perpetually windblown, and he wore a bemused expression, as if he knew a joke that none of us shared. He reminded me of a slightly disorganized Gaston, only his coloring was rosy, and his eyebrows danced above his glasses as he spoke. I liked him instantly; I was not alone, as I saw a smile creep onto Gustave's lips as he studied the droll little man.
La Paige checked his watch and launched into his lecture. Raoul and I looked at each other feebly as Gustave leaned forward, hanging on every word. It was a long hour, but I occupied myself by watching the excitement play across my son's face. As the young men cleared up and out at lecture's end, he gripped my arm.
"Papa, isn't it marvelous!" he whispered. His eyes were glowing; I squeezed his hand.
"It is, Gustave. Come, let's go down and meet him."
La Paige finished scribbling in his notebook and strode to the bottom of the steps, hand extended. His clear brown eyes burned with what I was coming to recognize as a mathematician's intensity, and his gaze never wavered from Gustave. The rest of us might've been on the moon.
"Gustave Rouen! Brilliant; excellent you found your way!" He pumped Gustave's hand vigorously. In fact, every movement was one of crackling energy; I wondered how he came to be pudgy.
"Yes Sir."
"How did you find the lecture? No trouble, hm?"
"No Sir, no trouble," Gustave confessed, overwhelmed not by the maths but by the man.
"Brilliant." La Paige turned his gaze to our little group and Phelan made the introductions. La Paige nodded at each of us in turn. He studied me briefly in frank curiosity; for some reason I didn't feel offended. "Well, come along, come along. Let me offer you tea. Mustn't forget the niceties, hm?" He chuckled, throwing an avuncular arm around Gustave.
Over tea and biscuits, the conversation turned to algebra. They'd barely spoken a minute before La Paige and Gustave popped up to the chalkboard and began describing circles and scribbling formulas. I admit I was baffled; it wasn't even real numbers they were looking for.
"Erik, how does 'solving for x' help a man calculate cab fare?" Raoul whispered.
"I can't help you, but for once you needn't feel stupid."
The afternoon was waning when La Paige drew me aside. He slipped his glasses up onto his forehead. I had no idea what they were actually for, as he seemed to never look through them.
"I would admit him now," he clipped frankly. "Alas, the mathematician is ready, but the boy is not, hm?"
"I am glad you see it that way. We've been concerned—"
"Of course, of course you have. His grasp is most instinctive; he approaches it as a musician would a composition. Of course, music is nothing but maths anyway; you know this yourself."
"I beg your pardon?" I stammered.
"Gustave tells me it is a musical family, hm?" he nodded. He did not wait for my response. "Can you stay? A week? A month, perhaps? We will work together, and when he returns home, we will correspond until he can join me here in a couple of years."
I turned and called to Gustave. "Gustave, would you like us to stay awhile in Liege, so that you may visit with Monsieur La Page? I think we could manage a few weeks or so."
He leapt to his feet beaming. I nodded. "Very well then. Let's get back to our rooms and I'll scribble a note to your Mother."
-0-0-0-0-
We passed a quick month. Every day, Gustave would pop out of bed, gobble breakfast and make his way to the university like a proper student, leaving me and my wayward companion to explore the city and find whatever trouble we could. Raoul put his best efforts into locating a baccarat table, an absinthe parlor and an exemplary brothel. I accompanied him on a couple of raids, but mainly I sought out museums, arboretums and theaters. I located a marvelous chocolate shop and dragged Raoul to the Val St Lambert crystal factory.
"Crystal? Erik!"
"Listen, you've a wife, daughters and sons just as I have. I'm buying my darling a punchbowl and stemware, and sets of stemware for my daughters' and sons' weddings. You'd better do the same if you know what's good for you."
"Cripes, you make me look bad, Old Man."
"I do what I can, Beauty."
At month end, Gustave was fired with the spirit of discovery, but sufficiently homesick to make our departure an easy one. He had plenty of new books, copious notes, and a mind full of ideas to take home. He and M La Paige would correspond, and I'd promised to consider another trip to Liege in a year.
As the train pulled away from the platform, Gustave took his final glance at the city.
"Has it been a good adventure, Son?"
"The best possible adventure, Papa! Thank you!" He squeezed me so tightly it brought tears to my eyes; or maybe that wasn't what it was at all.