I cannot open the wardrobe. I do not know how long I stand paralyzed, but eventually, I turn away. I rush up to the surface, hiding in dark places, hoping to catch a glimpse of Christine. I see merchants and children, women, police, but I see Christine nowhere.

As I turn to leave, I glimpse that boy's carriage across the square. I cannot see if he is within, nor can I spy him nearby, but an icy dart pierces my heart, simply by looking at the carriage with the Chagny crest on the door. I must go below; my heart is sick.

I had all but forgotten that he was in the world. For all our troubles, since returning from Italy, it has been only Christine and me. If she has thought of him, missed him and longed for him, she has never betrayed herself to me.

-0-0-0-0-

As I move into my home, I hear Christine humming. I dash to the bedroom door, unable to believe my ears–or even my eyes. I fall to my knees, throw my arms around her and sob like a child.

"Erik, what is it?" She kneels with me, clasping my hands within hers. Her eyes are all concern. "Won't you tell me what has happened?"

"You were gone, Christine," I pant. "I awoke and I was alone. It seemed as if you'd never been here at all."

Christine draws my arms about her. "Who sounds like a worried little wife now?" she giggles, pulling me down on the carpet. "I went to church, but I am here now. Touch me and you'll see I'm real," she whispers. Her breath in my ear makes me shudder.

"Did you see anyone?"

"Sometimes the same people are at church; is that what you mean? Erik, help me out of my dress," she orders impatiently.

"I mean…I mean I went looking for you, and I saw that boy's carriage in the square. I saw it, Christine!" I cry, tortured by suspicions. Christine backs away, sitting up as she clasps her bodice shut.

"I went to church." She repeats flatly.

"You never saw him there?"

She shakes her head forlornly.

"You're sad because you realize you missed him!" I accuse. She climbs to her feet and starts from the room. I catch her up in my arms roughly, shaking her. "You missed your rendezvous!"

Christine rests her head on my shoulder. "Why will you do this? You think I went to meet Raoul? Look at me, tell me you have no faith in me," she begs.

I cannot look at her; I am too ashamed. I begin to tremble and shake my head. At last, I murmur "No, Christine, I have faith in you."

-0-0-0-0-

I do have faith in Christine. Our life together is more perfect than I ever dreamed it would be, filled with Christine's smiles and song. I retrieve the house plans; it is a relief to discover that the sight of the plans no longer upsets her, and we agree to begin searching for the ideal spot for our home.

For all our happiness, the boy still haunts me. Perhaps he no longer haunts her, but I cannot forget his proximity, or his vow to kill me.

-0-0-0-0-

"Why are you brooding tonight, my Angel?" Christine murmurs. She draws my book away, setting it aside.

"I am not brooding." I see that she has slipped the Kama Sutra into my hand and chuckle. It amuses me how she asks for love. "What is this?"

"You know…" she replies coyly.

"What do you want from me this day, Child?"

"You know!" She wriggles under my arm.

"You cannot say?" I tease.

"I can say," she nods. "I want you to love me." She shoves the extraneous sofa pillows to the floor. "The more you love me, the more I want you to love me," Christine marvels. "As if every meal I eat makes me hungrier. Is it that way for you as well?" she asks as we undress each other with possessive familiarity.

"It is that way for me as well; it has been that way for me from the start," I admit.

"Erik," Christine sighs, pressing me onto the sofa. "Promise we'll never tire of one another. I never want to tire of this."

"I promise, my Love."