Raoul woke with a startle. Feeling the cold water against his skin he struggled to wake himself out of his groggy daze. He had been dreaming of the watery grave he nearly had succumbed to just hours before. The embers in the fireplace had lost most of their glow, and the room was no longer warm and inviting.
He pulled himself up out of the now tepid water and wrapped himself in the soft long towel on the chair beside him. He was awake, but plagued with the ache in his body, and a tired he'd never felt. "This is what death must feel like" he muttered to himself.
He slipped on his robe and the soft slippers that lay by the dwindling fire. They were warm on his feet providing some comfort to him. As he crossed his room toward his bed, he stopped to peer out his window. How the moon shown and twinkled off the fresh covering of snow. Raoul looked up at it high in the night sky and gazed at its vast luminosity.
How strange to be in the comfort of a warm home, with a comfortable bed awaiting him. He felt guilty for indulging in these simple pleasures. The night was silent, with the exception of the occasional hooting of a distant owl. He sighed, his chest feeling heavy from the invisible wound where his heart had been extracted.
He wanted to go back and search, to find her. She must be cold and afraid. No doubt she was shivering right now, cowering in a dark cavern hoping to be spared her life. He shook the thoughts from his head. He couldn't let his imagination create horrors that were unknown. As much as he feared for her safety, prayed for her comfort, he had a sense that one so driven to possess her would surely not mortally harm her. He may force her to sing, to serve him, to… NO! Raoul furrowed his brow, closing his eyes, and putting his hand over his face. NO! You cannot think that, Christine was a pure soul, surely he would spare her this pain!
Raoul looked out the window again to see a rabbit scampering across the snow. Stopping and starting again as if playing a game. A second rabbit appeared, slightly smaller, but it seemed that they were traveling together. The pair scampered off under the brush by the fence. "Even nature has decided to torture me with the reminder that for everyone there is a mate, two destined to be together." Raoul, wallowing in masochistic, self-imposed torture thought to himself.
Looking down he moved toward his bed, the fire beside it still glowing softly, emitting some warmth. He lifted the covers dragging his weary body into it. He closed his eyes as he said a silent prayer "Father, please keep her safe, protect her from all evil, may he have seen fit to provide her some warmth and comfort so as to spare her suffering…until I can find her and bring her home. Amen." He tried to push all the terror of the night from his mind. He must sleep, must sleep.
XXXXX
Madame Jiry was the last to stand in front of the Opera House as the flames were finally extinguished. The building was spewing smoke and vapor as if it was a great dragon or volcano being put to rest. The streets were pooled with blackened water that was rapidly become ice underfoot.
A few fireman were left in charge with a single tank of water left behind for their use. The others, including spectators, slowly began to vanish, retreating to the warmth of their homes or inns. They'd been witness to the greatest fire Paris had ever seen, consuming a beloved landmark in its fury. From the outside the building looked no worse for wear, spare the broken windows and darkened ledges where flames had peeled out to stain it with its smoky char.
She stood before it, looking at the hissing shell, wondering most about the souls that might have been lost within it. Madame Giry knew that the two likely perished in the fires, or were trapped below it, having no chance for escape. The crowds were gone now, and save the three firemen who were warming their hands over a small fire contained in a large metal pail, the streets were empty. Madame Giry looked down and said a silent prayer. "May they all be in your hands tonight Lord, and may your will be done." With that she raised her head, and turning to leave.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Mother?" She saw Meg smiling at her, extending one of the two steaming cups of dark liquid she had in her hand. "Mum, come inside, this nice innkeeper said that we may stay with her tonight, and perhaps beyond if we find it necessary."
Madame Giry took the brew gratefully to her lips and inhaled the aroma. She was chilled far below her skin, but had failed to notice it until now. "Thank you Meg" she smiled at her daughter through the steamy vapor rising from her cup. The two walked toward the inn where the innkeeper stood in the doorway, a small candle lighted in her window, welcoming them inside. "You look frightful cold mum, come sit down by the fire and warm yourself." The heavy wooden door closed behind them.