The dressmaker raised her eyebrows as she watched a masked man leading a young woman into the shop. She had seen many a peculiar fashion in her day, but nothing as queer as this. Gentlemen in masks, what would be next?
"May I help you?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes," said the masked gentleman, "I should like to purchase that dress in the window and have it fitted for my dear Christine."
"You saw the price of the dress?" the woman asked, her eyebrows arching higher.
"Money is no object," the man in the mask remarked with a quirk of his lips that might have been something akin to a grin. The dressmaker did not find the mask to be quite so queer, now that she was aware of its wearer's fiscal means. Surely a man willing to purchase something so expensive to clothe his lady must know at least a little of the world of fashion. Without further ado she took the dress off of the mannequin and led the blushing young woman into the fitting room.
"What was your name again, dear?" the dressmaker asked as Christine removed her red velvet dress and slipped into the beautiful green gown.
"Christine Daae," she said softly.
"The opera singer?" the dressmaker asked, looking at her wide-eyed, "Good heavens, girl! You're the talk of the town!"
"Really?" Christine asked as the middle-aged woman fetched some pins and began to tuck in the fabric about her waist.
"But of course! You disappeared after such a stunning performance! Rumors are flying, and the Vicomte de Chagny himself has offered a reward for any information leading to your whereabouts. Everyone will be thrilled to hear of your return!" Christine bit her lip.
"Oh dear," she said, "I... I'm really not sure whether I'm back for good. I mean..." She looked out towards the main area of the shop where Erik was waiting.
"Erik..." she thought, "What will happen to him? He's seemed so happy recently. What would happen if I left him, if I returned to the world above? Could I even bear to leave him if I thought that it would make him miserable?" Her reverie was interrupted by the dressmaker.
"I see," the woman said, nodding in the general direction of the main store, "You've met a man, haven't you?" Christine blushed, and the dressmaker gave a knowing smile.
"Yes, in a way," Christine said, "I have... met a man, but I'm not quite sure how I feel about him yet. I... care for him, and I want to love him, but..." She trailed off, slipping into thought once more.
"Could I ever truly be happy with Erik? To be the wife of such a man... The prospect makes me tremble! But he has been so kind, such a perfect gentleman... He taught me to sing, believed in a chorus girl that no one else took notice of. Could I be so cruel as to shun him after all he has done for me? Oh Erik, my poor Erik... I must not leave him. I must give my angel a fighting chance!"
When the middle-aged woman had finished pinning the gown, she helped Christine carefully remove it. Christine then slipped back into her red velvet dress, and the two women returned to the main store.
Erik stood exactly where they had left him, near the counter. It was as if he hadn't moved at all in the two hours or so it had taken to pin the dress. When the two women entered the room he turned to them, then frowned.
"Christine, why are you not wearing your dress?" he asked, "Was it not to your liking?"
"The dress is not yet ready, Monsieur," said the dressmaker, her doubts on the mysterious customer's knowledge of fashion returning, "That was just the pinning. I still have to make the alterations, but it should be ready for you to pick up in a week."
"Oh," he said, "Well in that case, I apologize. Christine, shall we be off?" Christine nodded, thanked the dressmaker, and offered her arm to Erik once again before heading out of the shop.
Erik hailed a cab, and asked the driver if he would deposit them at an address a block away from the Opera house. While they rode, he allowed himself to sneak a few glances at his lovely companion as she was staring out of the window. He unwittingly let out a soft sigh, causing Christine to turn and look at him. He hastily muttered an apology before scooting away from her and turning to look out of the window on the other side of the cab. Christine smiled.
"Erik," she said gently, "I am very grateful to you for all that you have done for me. Today has been the best one I have had in a long time."
"You are quite welcome, Mademoiselle!" he exclaimed, turning back towards her in surprise. He had thought her to be put off by the thought of his wretched, hollow eyes gawking at her beauty, and the last thing he was expecting from her was an expression of gratitude!
Christine smiled once more at Erik's enthusiasm. "He seems so childlike at times," she thought, "But I know he has suffered greatly. He must have, on account of his face. No man that looked as Erik does could have led a normal life. Still, I hardly know anything about him! I wish to return his love, to make him happy, but how can I love a man whom I do not know?"
"Will you tell me a bit about yourself?" she asked, scooting towards him. Erik frowned.
"Why, Christine?" he asked suspiciously, "For what reason?" She paused, biting her lip.
"Well," she began, "You are courting me, are you not? And you already know much about me, whereas I know hardly anything about you. I simply wish to know my suitor better, so that perhaps in time, I can grow to... like him better." She could not bring herself to say the word "love" just yet, and inwardly cursed herself for her cowardice. Erik sighed.
"Very well," he said, "It is your right to know the man that courts you. Ask me anything you like, and I will answer as best I can."
"Where were you born?"
"A little seaside town. I do not recall its name."
"What was it like there?"
"Most always cold. It often rained. I stayed inside most of the time, even when it was sunny. Mother would let me out to play in the backyard on occasion, when night had just begun to fall and it was raining quite hard. No one could see me that way. I always stayed out as long as possible and invariably caught a cold." Looking over, he noticed Christine wore a slight smile.
"What?" he asked. All of this recollection was making him rather uncomfortable, but he knew he owed it to Christine, and the prospect of her growing to like him better had certainly sweetened the deal.
"I was just imagining you as a child," she replied, "I wish I could see a photograph." Erik visibly stiffened.
"No you do not, I'm afraid," he said firmly, and Christine dropped the subject.
When at last they were back in the house by the lake, Erik let out a sigh of relief and practically collapsed into a settee by the fireside. A moment later he was on his feet once more, placing fresh logs atop the glowing embers and prodding them back to life with the poker. His sweet Christine must not be allowed to shiver.
With the fire crackling pleasantly, Erik turned to see that she had sat down on the settee mere inches from the place where he had been moments before. "How wonderful it would be to sit at her side," he thought, "Perhaps it is time I tried my hand again at this courting business. But what to do? Shall I sing her a song? Yes, that will do nicely. I am too timid to tell her of my own wretched love, but perhaps I can express myself to her through music!"
Emboldened by his resolution, Erik sat down beside her, albeit with a large amount of space still between them. Reaching over, he made so bold as to clasp one of Christine's hands within his own. She looked at him, surprised, and he nearly lost his nerve, but seeing no fear in her expression, he pressed on, singing his love in the words of another.
Quel trouble inconnu me pénètre?
Je sens l'amour s'emparer de mon être!
Ô Marguerite, à tes pieds me voici!
Salut! demeure chaste et pure,
Salut! demeure chaste et pure,
Où se devine la présence
d'une âme innocent et divine!
Que de richesse en cette pauvreté!
En ce réduit, que de félicité!
Que de richesse,
Que de richesse en cette pauvreté!
Ô nature, C'est là
que tu la fis si belle!
C'est là que cet enfant
A dormi sous ton aile,
A grandi sous tes yeux.
Là que de ton haleine
Enveloppant son âme
Tu fis avec l'amour épanouir la femme
En cet ange des cieux!
C'est là! Oui, c'est là!
Salut! demeure chaste et pure,
Salut! demeure chaste et pure,
Où se devine la présence
d'une âme innocente et divine!
Salut, salut, demeure chaste et pure,
Salut, salut, demeure chaste et pure!
He knew his song to be slightly unfitting. They were not in Sweden, not where she grew up, but singing Siebel's aria was simply out of the question.
Still, Christine smiled, and did not seem to mind that the hands clasped about her own had grown quite clammy, nor that their owner had come quite a bit nearer in the course of the last few minutes. As Erik sang, her eyes closed, and the whole of her face tipped slightly upward, as if to catch the beautiful music that rolled from Erik's lips, as a flower opens to the sun. As the song ended, her eyes fluttered open once more.
Christine was at first confused by her surroundings, feeling as if she had woken from a dream. Slowly she returned to reality, taking in the warmth of the fire and the softness of the setee. An image came into focus. Erik's face was but a foot from her own, she could feel his icy breath on her cheeks. A strand of hair, black mingled with grey, stuck out at an awkward angle. Smiling, she reached up her free hand to tuck it behind his ear.
Erik instinctively jerked away, dropping Christine's other hand and rising quickly to his feet. He had barely realized himself to be standing when he noticed Christine's expression. She looked frightened, and, was that hurt in those beautiful blue eyes?
"What have I done?" he thought, "Erik is such a fool!"
"Oh, Christine!" he sighed, sinking down upon his knees, "Please forgive your poor old Erik. He did not mean any harm, he did not mean to push you away! That is the last thing your Erik would ever want to do!" Erik's gangly limbs were curled beneath him, and his face was so sorrowful that Christine was reminded of some pitiful insect, waiting to be squashed. She forced a little smile.
"Erik, it's quite alright. I know... I know you don't trust me. Why should you? But I wasn't reaching for your mask, Erik. I was only going to..." Here she trailed off. "Only going to what, Christine? Tuck a piece of hair behind his ear? It sounds silly," she thought, "He would never believe me if I told him! A poor excuse, he would think, for trying to snatch his mask." She was startled to hear Erik echo her thoughts.
"Only going to what, Christine?" he asked. Now her smile was genuine, though a little bit sad. She reached out her hand once more and tucked away the stray lock of hair. Erik visibly trembled at the contact.
"Just... that." She whispered.
A/N: Name that tune! :D