Oil on troubled waters (cont.)
This time Erik was allowed to give Marie the little wooden blocks that he had made for her. Marie clapped her hands, and thoroughly enjoyed herself emptying out the chest and spreading the blocks all over the room. Erik collected them again and stacked them back in the box. Then he tried to show her how to play with them.
He built a little house while Marie watched in fascination. Then she laughed, clapped her hands, and knocked it over. Erik built another house and Marie watched again, waited until it was finished and knocked it over, smiling happily. Then Erik built a round tower. Marie knocked it down with squeaks of joy.
Raoul watched for a while, then sat down to join in and built another tower. Marie ran to him and knocked down his tower too in delight. This went on for a while, with the two men racing to build towers for Marie to knock over, and Marie running backward and forward, laughing as the towers toppled.
~o~
When lunchtime came, Christine and Dr Martin and his wife waited in vain for Erik and Raoul. "I'll go and call them," said Christine.
She opened the door to the music room, but what she saw there left her frozen with astonishment. Raoul and Erik were kneeling peacefully side by side on the carpet like old friends, constructing a fairytale castle out of little wooden bricks, while Marie lay on the sofa covered with Erik's jacket and sucked on a soggy building block. She was soaked in sweat and fast asleep.
"Are there any more of the large blocks?" asked Erik, and Raoul rummaged in the chest.
"Only the little ones, I'm afraid. We ought to make some that are eight and sixteen centimetres long. And we need some flat boards for ceilings — then we can build rooms."
"Good idea. I'll start on it tomorrow."
Christine couldn't help it any longer. She burst out into a peal of laughter, and both men looked at her in surprise. Christine hung onto the doorframe and laughed so that her belly, now great with pregnancy, shook. She laughed until tears ran from her eyes.
"You should have seen yourselves," she gasped, when she had regained a little breath.
"What's so funny?" asked Erik.
"The two of you — sitting on the floor playing with Marie's toys while she has long since fallen asleep with exhaustion!"
"She can knock down the castle after lunch," Raoul suggested.
"But I want to see that as well," protested Erik.
"Oh, all right then — I don't mind if you come to see that later, " Raoul conceded. "But that's the end of it for today." Still laughing, Christine rang for a servant to call the nursemaid, who carried the sleeping Marie off to bed.
Christine was still laughing when they entered the dining-room. "I'd like to finally know just what's so amusing," insisted Raoul.
"Yes, and me too," Erik agreed.
"It was the two of you — the sight was just irresistible!"
"I don't see what was so funny," protested Erik. "We were playing with Marie, that was all." This time it was the Vicomte who chimed in at once in agreement.
"And simply went on playing long after she'd fallen asleep," Christine said, giggling, and winked at Madame Martin, who responded with the sympathetic nod of a fellow-sufferer.
That Sunday morning was a turning-point for Erik. From that moment on, Raoul was suddenly a good deal more friendly towards him, treating him almost as one treats the embarrassing black sheep of the family, who is not at all presentable in public but somehow or other still belongs and has to be taken along.
And that was just what Raoul did in the weeks that followed. He took Erik with him on his rides out to inspect the vineyards.
This was quite a challenge for Erik, as he was constantly surrounded by people and constantly had to show himself. No-one dared to insult him or attack him, since he was clearly under the Vicomte's protection, but he was not spared the stares and murmurs. However, over the course of these rides he gradually relaxed, since the more often he turned up at a given location the less he was stared at and whispered about.
One hot summer's day, the two of them were once again on the way back from such a ride. Erik suddenly stopped his horse and turned his face into the wind, breathing deeply.
"What is it?" asked Raoul, whose head was buzzing with the explanations that he had just been given about the sweetness and ripeness of the grapes by the manager of the vineyard.
"Can't you feel it?"
"What?"
"The wind," said Erik, and laughed, which exposed his missing teeth. "The wind feels so good!"
Then he looked at the Vicomte, and something sparkled in his eyes. "Who can be first to the old winepress?" he challenged. "I'll give you a head start."
Raoul had no idea what to say. He knew various sides of Erik already, most of them repellent, but this childlike, playful Erik was completely new to him — and somehow not displeasing.
"Count to ten — and no cheating," he returned, and let his horse break into a gallop. But scarcely had he turned to check when he saw Erik racing up. Erik's Othello was taller and faster than Raoul's mount, and he swiftly overhauled the Vicomte.
"You cheated," protested Raoul.
"Didn't," Erik called back over his shoulder. "You need a better horse."
When Raoul reached the old pressing-house, Erik was lying on his back in the grass and gazing happily up into the sky. "The sun and the wind," he called over. "It's so good. I've never been able to enjoy the sun and the wind on my face before."
Raoul dismounted and sat down on the grass beside him. "This isn't a pleasure trip. I still have work to do."
"Oh, don't be so boring," retorted Erik, with a grin.
Raoul assumed that this had to be more or less Erik's happiest expression. But it was still grisly in the extreme: a happy death's-head with missing teeth. Raoul sighed.
"I've never thanked you, sir," Erik said, abruptly serious once more. "You've given me a roof over my head, I sleep in a warm bed and eat my fill every day. I'm allowed to see Marie, and I... I can almost live a normal life... You're far too generous — and this after all that I've done to you! You're a good man, Monsieur, and I'm truly grateful."
Raoul looked at him. What he saw there was no longer the monster that he had feared so much.
Suddenly Erik sprang up and began picking wildflowers from the wayside. "What are you up to now?" asked Raoul, astonished.
"Picking flowers for Babette — she'll be delighted if I bring her a bouquet."
Raoul thought about it and began to gather flowers in his turn. It was not that he could not afford flowers, and beautiful cultivated blossoms grew in his garden — but these wildflowers were a good idea, and he was sure that Christine too would be delighted. What pleased the Vicomte most of all was that it was not of Christine that Erik had thought when he had started picking them.
The closer they came to the projected date of Christine's confinement, the less Raoul stirred from her side. Instead he sent Erik out in his place.
Erik obeyed without protest, even when it was clear to see that it was very hard for him. For the most part he came home so tense that not even Babette dared to remain in his vicinity for fear that he might strike her. She was not sure if he was capable of recognising anyone at all before he had had a bath and calmed down.
Dubois noticed that Erik was making excessive use of the permission he had been given to buy himself shoes and clothing at his employer's expense, and he dutifully made a report of this to the Vicomte. The latter went to find Erik, who just then was sitting in the kitchen chatting to Babette.
"Erik, I need to have a talk with you," he began, and Erik at once attempted to look innocent — insofar as that was ever possible on his part. "Dubois has told me that you are acquiring so many clothes, shoes, hats, handkerchiefs and suchlike that he can't even think where you are putting them all."
"In the neighbouring room," Erik said with an innocent expression.
"The neighbouring room? Don't you dare try to put in a connecting door..."
"Too late," admitted Erik, "I already have."
"You really are impossible!" said the Vicomte angrily. "When I said you could buy things for yourself, I didn't think you were going to exploit it to this extent."
Erik shrugged, and attempted to look even more innocent. Then he responded, somewhat embarrassed, "I like nice things."
"Yes, but you've already got more than you need."
"True, but it.. it helps... when I... get angry again."
"Angry?" queried Raoul, suddenly distrustful.
"Yes, the people here... it's true I haven't been spat on or insulted, and they haven't struck me either, but... the gossip and the stares are very hard for me to bear. And then sometimes I simply need something that will... make me feel better. I haven't touched your brandy again, and the cigarettes... only rarely, because I want to sing for Marie. And so I just bought things for myself. Only things you said I could have."
Raoul sighed. Somehow he could understand it. Things weren't easy for Erik, and the man was really trying hard.
"All right — but enough is enough," he decided. "No more purchases without explicit permission."
~o~
A couple of days later the Vicomte happened to see Erik sitting out in the summerhouse. There was nothing unusual about that; Erik liked to sit in the new summerhouse and enjoy the gardens. What was much less usual was that Christine was also in the garden and went towards Erik. Raoul resolved to stay hidden and eavesdrop.
"Thank you for coming, my dear," Erik began. "This will have to stay as a secret between us, because if your husband finds out he will demand satisfaction of me in a duel. He is a good shot — I taught him myself — and I should load my weapon with powder and no ball, as in my fear I should surely fail to shoot wide. As you see, I am risking a great deal to speak to you."
Christine said nothing.
"Listen, you must stop being so friendly to me, Christine," Erik said sadly. "You're giving me hope where none exists. I know that you feel guilty about parading me like a trained ape, but... you are married and expecting your second child in a few days, and I too shall soon be married."
"Erik, what are you thinking of?" Christine flung back, furious. "I would never, ever betray my husband! I love him. How can you imply such a thing?"
Erik defended himself. "I wasn't — but you know how I feel about you. What I have always felt, and shall always feel: I love you. You are the one great love of my life and always will be... but this will be the last time we speak openly to one other. So please listen to me. From today I shall shut my feelings for you up in my heart for good and seal my lips and never again speak a word of them. If anyone should ask, I shall say that I feel nothing for you beyond paternal friendship."
"But that will be lying!"
"Yes, but that's my affair. For you I was never anything else, was I? If anything at all, then a friendly paternal figure. That is more than I deserve, and I'll take it with gratitude."
"Will you be able to resist the temptation?" asked Christine, and Erik laughed quietly.
"What do you like to eat, Christine?"
"Cherry cake," replied Christine, bewildered. Why was he now talking about food?
"And what fills you up, but just tastes ordinary?"
"Lentil stew?"
Erik laughed again and nodded. "So imagine, dear heart, that you have eaten nothing for a month and are incredibly hungry. And there sits a tasty cherry cake. Would you steal a piece?"
Christine considered for a while. "I was lucky enough never to be that hungry, but... not the whole cake, but I think I'd take a bit for myself, even if I wasn't allowed to."
"You see, that was what happened to me in Paris. I was at the end of my tether, I was starving, I could bear it no longer... and so I... did what I should never have done and shall regret until the end of my days: I hurt you. Now, things are different. Now I have a comfortable arrangement that provides me with a bowl of lentil stew every day. I'm not hungry, and with a full stomach it's easier to resist the temptation to pinch a piece of that enticing cherry cake."
He smiled wistfully and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and for a while both were silent.
"I like lentil stew, with a bit of ham in it," observed Erik, and for all that the situation was far from funny, Christine had to laugh. "And I would never hurt you. Not you, not Marie and not your husband. I feel so happy here, even if it isn't easy for me. I'm slowly coming to hope that here I can find some kind of... of peaceful autumn to my life. Babette takes so much zest in life, and I love her — not the way I love you, but that I'll never tell her. From now on I shall set myself to the task of being a decent husband to her, with everything that implies."
Christine nodded. "Erik, I want you to stay my friend, my trusted friend. But as a friend of the family, and so Raoul's friend too."
A sigh. "I don't think he wants me as a friend. But I'd gladly have him as one. I like him. Truly. He's a good man. A bit weak and goodnatured for my taste — he lets people get away with far too much — a little naive, but he's still young. But I'd be ready to lay down my life for him at any time, just as I would for you or Marie."
He stood up. "And with that our conversation comes to its end. Thank you for listening."
Christine rose, and stepped up close as if to kiss him. Erik caught her by the shoulders and held her firmly. "No," he said softly. "I'm not yet ready for that. It's better for me not to learn the taste of cherries — then it will be easier..."
He bowed to her and kissed her hand. Then he left. Christine remained in the summerhouse, with mixed feelings, and Raoul, who had heard the whole, was not at all sure what he felt about it.
(continued...)