Chapter 7: Reunion

Erik stood before the chapel doors, pacing nervously from one side to the other. Feeling the soft touch of the moon upon him, he stopped his pacing to look up at its round, eternally smiling face. A cloud drifted in front of it, and he sighed, lowering his head once again.

Her letter had literally brought him back to life. He fervently hoped Darius had been able to give her his reply, and would soon be bringing her to him...

How sweet the face of passion's delight,

the lilting melodies displayed upon thy ravish'd lips,

the adoring lover longingly doth list...

He whispered the words he had long ago written in her honor, on the day that he had sent her back up to the sunlight, so that she might rehearse for the part of Margarita in "Faust"".

A somewhat distant sound set him on alert. He remained in place, very, very still, in front of the chapel doors. His heart started up a fierce rhythm that soon moved into his throat.

Across the park they came, toward him, Nadir, and...she who haunted his dreams. Ah, he thought, the daroga had decided to bring her himself, after all.

As if in a trance, he came down the steps, slowly, his booted feet making no sound upon the well-worn stone. Everything around her took on a vivid immediacy. His eyes were the artists that stored each exquisite detail of her -- that face, whose beauty shone like no other, her hair, whose softness his hands would touch again.

Nadir stayed back while the two walked toward each other, mesmerized.

Christine saw him through the blur of tears. In the brilliant moonlight, she noticed, as never before, the sweep of his night-shaded hair, the masculine breadth of his shoulders, accentuated by his majestic cloak, the mask that lent him an air of mystery and power...She saw the other half of her own soul, albeit a dark one.

Finally, they stopped a few paces apart, gazing at each other with glistening eyes, lips partly opened in wonder.

Erik reached out a trembling, black-gloved hand. Christine stepped closer, and, reaching out an equally trembling hand, let him grasp it. He sighed deeply, and, very gently, pulled her to him. She never took her eyes from his, even as he began to sing, so softly only she could hear him. Just as he hit the highest note, he enfolded her firmly in his arms, and sighed again, closing his eyes. He felt her sobbing quietly into his chest, her arms encircling his waist, and gave himself up to the glorious delight of simply holding her, of brushing the unmasked side of his face agaisnt the top of her head.

Christine had never experienced such happiness. Feeling his face tenderly bury itself in her hair, she felt a desperate urge to caress it, pressing her lips upon his.

She moved her head away from his, and looked into his eyes. Erik took her face in his hands, covering it with little kisses, caressing her curls, whispering soft endearments to her.

"Christine, Christine," he repeated, over and over. "My sweet love...Christine..." He unabashedly wept into her hair, holding her, caressing her back, breathing in her sweet scent. At last, slightly untangling himself from their embrace, he lifted her face to his once more, hungrily swooping down upon her lips with all the desperate longing that had long oppressed him.

She gave herself up to him completely. She wanted all of him, to be hers forever. Never again could she bear not to look into his golden eyes.

She broke the kiss first, and her eyes once again met his. She reached up, to touch the edge of the mask. Not taking her gaze from his for one instant, she allowed her fingers to slide from his brow down the nose of the mask, and finally down to his lips, which were still slightly wet from the powerfully passionate kiss they had just shared.

Erik stared at her throughout, marveling at the obvious depth of her love, and her willingness to surrender totally to him, which he saw in her eyes. He knew quite well what she was trying to tell him with the slow movement of her fingers upon his mask. She required his willing surrender, as well. She had come to him, entirely of her own free will, for he had not enticed her with the seductive power of his voice. She wanted his complete trust, his unconditional vulnerability. Dare he allow her to take off the mask?

She breathlessly awaited his decision as she continued to gaze at him. He closed his eyes as a wave of pain washed over him. Then he felt his heart opening, and he knew that he had no choice but to give her this gift of himself.

When he finally opened his eyes, she clearly read his answer in them. Her smile was radiant. Reaching around the edge of the mask, she gently began to pry it away. He flinched involuntarily as he felt her fingers probing, slightly grazing his skin. Yet, he made no move to stop her, simply closing his eyes once more, bracing himself for the fresh pain he was sure would assault him when his face lay completely exposed to her gaze. He remembered that terrible day, when she had seen his unmasked face for the very first time. He silently told himself that this time, everything would be different. Now he felt a gentle, but firm, tug. The mask slowly came away, falling out of her hand onto the grassy ground...

Then he felt the kisses she pressed on his hideous face. She covered both his cheeks, his chin, his temples and brow, while holding his face in her hands as if it were the most precious object in the world. Throughout this delicious ordeal, Erik suffered in silent delight, eyes still closed, hardly knowing whether he lived or died, the tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

At last, he opened his eyes to meet her own, before pulling her into his arms to claim her lips again. She opened her mouth to him, answering his passion with hers, pressing closer into his body. His cloak enveloped them both.

Looking on from afar, Nadir sighed, remembering his own sweet wife. She had never had to share him with any other woman, as Moslem law allowed Persian men to do. He could not forsake her arms to seek pleasure in other arms...The daroga now thanked the Almighty that she had been in his life, bestowing her deep love on him. He also gave thanks for being the instrument that had brought about this long-awaited reunion.

At last, he turned away, to walk toward the little house behind the chapel. Madame Giry and Meg were there, as temporary guests of the priest who officiated at the chapel.

In the deep night, in the middle of a little Parisian park, near a beautiful Gothic chapel, two lovers kissed, embracing. A living flame that had never once gone out engulfed the lovers in its everlasting warmth.