Chapter 5

Over the course of the ride, I patiently explained to Christine how to drive the carriage. Although several times, I had to grab the reins from her, to prevent César from veering off the road or to slow him down when he began to move too quickly, Christine was greatly amused and laughed at her own mistakes. For the first time, I found myself enjoying the holiday, and Christine treated me with polite, though shy, friendliness.

We arrived then, and I helped Christine from the carriage, before tying César to a post. The other horses and carriages were lined up inside, and I took a blanket from the back of the carriage, laying it on top of César.

Christine waited calmly, watching my every move, and I walked toward her, daring to place a hand lightly upon her back. "I shall guide you inside, mademoiselle."

"Please," she urged gently, her tone familiar, "call me Christine."

I turned toward her before I could stop myself, and she looked unflinchingly into my mismatched eyes.

"You're my angel, are you not?"

I stiffened, deeply embarrassed, and looked away.

"It's okay, angel," she whispered. She touched my shoulder with a calming hand, and I tensed at her touch. "You needn't explain. I'm only happy you are here with me, as such, though your voice does sound different in this form..."

I felt tears cloud my eyes at her blind, though foolish, acceptance and looked away. Part of me could not believe she was still standing here with me.

"Come, let's go inside where it is warm," I mumbled.

At the use of my natural voice, Christine's eyes widened at the confirmation of my identity.

Self-consciously, I strode forward, faltering in my gentlemanly act.

Christine hurried by my side. "I could tell it was you by the way you taught me how to drive," she stated happily. "You're so patient and kind with me, ange."

"Not always, my dear," I corrected sternly.

"Yes, you are," she insisted. She darted in front of me, forcing me to stop. Once again, her eyes were all over me, and suddenly, she clapped her hands in delight. "This means that you are coming with me to the masquerade, right? Please say yes, angel, please?"

I sighed, still avoiding her gaze. "I'll think on it."

To my disbelief, she grabbed my hand before I could protest. I blinked at her hand, where it held my gloved one, then forced my feet to move. A few moments later, we stood outside the restaurant, and I stopped, at once unnerved by the sight of the crowd inside. This was so clearly a stupid idea. What had I been thinking? Now that Christine knew who I was, she certainly expected me to dine with her. But I had planned to wait for her outside. Now I had to invent an excuse to leave—

"Come on!" Christine dashed ahead and pushed open the doors.

"Christine, wait!"

But she was already inside, and hesitantly, I followed her.

She was already flagging down the host, requesting, "A table for two!"

"Christine—"

Again, she took my hand, dragging me behind her as she followed the host. He led us to a table by the window, took our coats, and pulled out Christine's chair. Even as she sat, I remained standing. The host asked for my hat, but I immediately shook my head. That was when he seemed to notice me, an uneasy glint in his eye. Very professionally, he gestured for a waiter, who immediately handed us our menus and served us water. They left then, though people continued to stare and whisper.

I found myself berating myself for my idiocy. I should have known better than to roam outside on Christmas of all days. I hated going out in public, and the place was packed. But it seemed as though today, Christine's foolishness was contagious, for I found myself trying to fulfill each one of her ridiculous wishes like a dog.

Christine, too, noticed the stares, and noticing her reaction, I finally sat, wishing I could disappear into the chair. I tried to think of what to say in order to exit without upsetting my student.

Before I could speak a word, Christine slipped on her black, feathered mask, smiling brightly in my direction. "Now, we are even," she announced playfully. "You, in your hat, and I, in my mask."

I thought of how happy she looked in the mask and felt a surge of irritation rise up within me. She could not understand how the mask mocked me.

"You need not draw attention to yourself on my account," I stated tiredly. "If I could remove this hat, I would. But my appearance would encourage even more stares, if I did that. Forgive me for not being able to blend in with polite society, my dear."

"Ange, you don't need to apologize," my student replied, still wearing her mask. "As I told you before, you have made me so happy today, simply being here with me. The past few holidays, I was so lonely!"

"But you went to the De Chagny's," I mentioned. "I thought you were happy there."

"Yes, they are practically family," she responded in a rush of youthful passion, "but they are not you."

"And what if you do not know me so well, my dear?" I dared, my eyes narrowing. I wanted to wipe that smile off her masked face.

Her eyes lifted toward me so rapidly that I held my breath, waiting in agony for her response or perhaps her rejection.

"Of course I know you," she announced bravely. "I've known you for five years."

Though it was on the tip of my tongue to confess that I was really a monster who had lied to her and tricked her, I could not bring myself to tell her the truth. Her gratitude touched me, and I found my anger at her disintegrating into sadness. I should never have allowed myself to go to her, for she would eventually discover my true self. Then, like all the others, she would turn tail and never return.

She must have caught the sorrow in my eyes, for she opened her menu and smiled reassuringly. "But it's Christmas. No more of this strange talk. Let's celebrate! Do you recommend any of the dishes here, angel?"

"The salmon is quite good, Christine," I stated, resigned. At least, people seemed to have returned to their conversations, losing interest in us.

"Okay," she smiled up at me, "I will have salmon. What about you?"

"I don't need mortal sustenance," I fudged, trying to find some excuse not to have to eat. But at her expression of expectancy, I added as an afterthought, "I suppose I will order something."

In truth, though, it would be terribly difficult to eat with the mask. I would have to do so very carefully in order not to embarrass myself. Before any more questions could be asked, I snapped my fingers to call over the waiter. The waiter regarded me warily while glancing dubiously at Christine.

We did look ridiculous – me in my wide-brimmed hat, and Christine in her black masquerade mask. Yet, the other customers and restaurant staff had, by now, begrudgingly accepted our presence. It would appear uncharitable for the restaurant staff to kick us out on Christmas Day.

After we had ordered, Christine continued to watch me in fascination, hounding me with questions.

"I would not have guessed that you would look so young," she blurted. "I mean, you act so grown up! But then, as an angel, you must be immortal." She glanced quickly at me through her lashes. "But do angels have tutors, too? Do they also learn by going to school?"

"I taught myself," I answered curtly.

"Angel, how old are you? If you don't mind my asking," she added, blushing, "I don't mean to be so unladylike."

"I'm twenty-five," I snapped, growing annoyed by her stupid, silly questions.

Christine's eyes widened, and she quieted at once. Still, she kept giving me shy, furtive glances.

I suppose it was obvious now that I was a man, for what angel would be twenty-five years old?

"Will you not stare at me so, my dear?" I requested, my voice strained. "This is why I never appeared to you during our lessons. I knew you'd be distracted by my loathsome appearance."

"Your appearance isn't loathsome," she disagreed, before rushing on, "and I won't be distracted. I promise."

"Nevermind," I muttered, preferring not to enlighten her.

The silence continued, growing more agonizing by the second, and it was a relief when the waiter brought out bread and appetizers.

Christine removed the mask in order to eat, though I continued to wear the hat.

Once the waiter had left, I sighed, "Forgive me, Christine. I am unaccustomed to company. How is your appetizer?"

"Delicious!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "I haven't eaten all day, angel, and didn't realize how hungry I was."

"I'm glad you are enjoying your food," I stated softly. I chewed very carefully, making sure that the movement did not give away the mask.

"How long have you lived in Paris?" Christine ventured experimentally.

It was clear that by now, she had realized I was a man, though I found it surprising how calmly she was reacting. Wasn't she upset I had lied to her all these years?

"Only six years," I replied honestly. "I first heard you sing only one year after I had arrived."

"And where were you before that?"

"Out of the country," I stated stiffly.

"Really?" Her eyes brightened with curiosity. "Where?"

"I was in Italy," I fudged, settling on a slightly better memory.

At least in Italy, Giovanni had treated me like a human being...until he had forced me to remove the mask in front of his daughter Luciana. One look, and Luciana had screamed, falling to her death. It was a sobering memory – one to keep in mind with Christine.

"What were you doing in Italy, angel?" Christine wondered.

"Studying architecture," I answered. "I've crafted many things, not only your voice, my dear."

But she was suddenly distracted, pointing excitedly out the window. "Oh look! The sky is so beautiful!"

"It is," I replied, turning my head to squint out into the sunset.

Colors streamed the horizon – pinks, oranges, yellows, reds, purples, and bluish-grays.

"I have always loved the sunset," Christine continued. "If I could paint, I would paint a thousand sunsets!"

She looked positively radiant, and I felt an alarming urge to embrace her tightly and kiss her. She looked so beautiful sitting there, with her hair glowing in the golden sunlight and her lips smiling in joy.

But I shook off the feeling, turning back toward my food. I did not want the sun shining so brightly upon my face. I did not want the fact that I was wearing a mask revealed. Surreptitiously, I maneuvered my head so that the masked side was again covered in shadow.

"You look sad, angel." Christine's attention had once again returned to me. "Why are you sad?"

"I have not led a happy life," I admitted softly, "but today, you have made me very happy."

She watched me, her eyes soft and curious. "I've been so very selfish. I never even asked you what you wanted for Christmas."

"You've already given it to me," I replied without thinking.

"Really? And what was that?"

I looked away, feeling my ears grow warm. "You've worked very hard this year," I stated patiently, "and you have made me proud."

"That's my teacher speaking," she giggled.

I gave a little start. What on earth did she find so funny?

"I am your teacher, Christine, first and foremost." My tone left no room for questions.

She smiled then, and there was a hint of that determined expression I had seen the night before. But I blinked, and it was gone.

But what she said next nearly caused my heart to stop.

"I confess, my angel," she began softly, "I've known for a while that you're a man."