Phantom (56 page)

"Yes," he agreed gravely, "yes… I think that is a thing you might well do eventually. Still, no matter. It's a risk that must be taken. "

I knew, as I walked from one bench to the other, touching the vast complexity of instruments that lay between us, that he was not talking about the laboratory.

"I've never known anyone who seems to belong so much to the future as you do. "

He shrugged. "Well… I've never been much at ease in the present. I'm afraid it has simply become the habit of a lifetime to escape from it in any way I can
—
magic, music… science
."

He let the sentence drift and turned away to adjust the flow of a pipette. I sensed that he had said rather more than he intended to and now regretted a confidence that revealed the grim despair lurking beneath his proud and cynical reserve.

Later that evening we emerged from the underground passages to find a brougham waiting for us at the end of the Rue Scribe. I had seen enough of his magic by now to half believe him capable of producing a carriage from thin air whenever he chose, but he only laughed when I questioned him and told me that his traveling arrangements were really as mundane as anyone else's now that he had put the dragon out to grass.

"Dragon?" I wondered for a moment if I had misheard him.

"Yes . . poor fellow! Very old and deaf now, of course, never hears the thunder brewing in the caldron anymore. Naturally, I had to let him go…"

Once more I was aware of the sudden blurring of our two worlds, the falling of that soft gauze curtain which obscured the dividing line between fact and fantasy. It frightened me a little to discover that his power was just as strong here in the gray Parisian street as it was in that mysterious shrine below ground. I was twenty years old, in full possession of my faculties, and I knew there were no such things as dragons.

And yet I had only to listen and they would exist in his voice; the dream would become reality the moment I abandoned my disbelief, and I would not return to this world until he chose to bring me back.

But what if one night he should choose not to bring me back at all?

This prospect, suddenly seen clearly for the first time, made me cling to the dull, familiar sight of the street with stubborn alarm; and accepting my unexpected resistance, Erik fell silent, releasing me. I had never resisted the lure of his voice before, and I knew he was disturbed by his failure to draw me with him into that other land. Doubt and sadness passed in fleeting succession through his eyes; it was almost as though
—
as though, somehow, my refusing to follow had aged him
.

We traveled to the gates of Paris, where the Bois de Boulogne stretched out its formal emerald acres in proud testimony to the late emperor's dislike of chaos. For some time we explored those quiet, deserted paths that would be crowded by visitors in the light of the sun. Even the coldest winter day attracted hundreds of skaters to the frozen lake and the

chalet that stood on the center island. Gentlemen, their faces swathed, with mufflers, pushed fine ladies in sledges, while liveried servants exercised lithe greyhounds swathed in overcoats. In summer there were gondolas on that lake, lit with colored lights, an endless procession of happy Parisians passing through the delights of the zoological gardens. All simple, human pleasures that I knew Erik could never have shared, even in those days when he had still lived in the world. If he had been here before, it would unquestionably have been after dark, when the park was cold and empty, entirely devoid of laughter and gaiety.

"This place is a perfect triumph of elegance and artifice, " he remarked thoughtfully, as we returned in the direction of our carriage an hour or so later. "There would be mechanical ducks on that lake if the emperor had only had the foresight to order them!"

I glanced at him warily, uncertain how he would take a direct contradiction.

"I think it's rather beautiful," I said.

He seemed surprised, but not displeased.

"It's all a sham, Christine, nothing more than a clever trick of engineering. This entire park wears a mask. What you see is not real nature."

"
Well, perhaps
—
perhaps it's not reality that I want to see
."

"You're not opposed to deception of the senses, then?" he asked with guarded optimism. "You could, perhaps, under certain circumstances, find some illusions… acceptable?"

We had come to the brougham and turned quite instinctively to face each other. Slowly, hesitantly, as though fighting against the warning instincts of a lifetime, he offered his gloved hand to help me ascend the carriage step. It was

the first time he had ever directly invited physical contact from me and the moment was fraught with tense significance for us both. My fingers had only to close that little distance between us and I would be a child to him no longer.

And in the moonlight his gloved hand was elusively normal; it looked warm and strong and quite curiously reassuring, the hand not of a monster and a murderer, but of a gentle, loving man, who waited with infinite patience for one little sign of hope…

A coach lumbered toward us at that moment, bearing a number of young gentlemen who were quite obviously much the worse for drink, and Erik automatically drew away from me at the sound of the first crude shout.

"Now, then, what luck we've found here! A lady of the night!Lovely lady… won't you join our brave company instead?"

"
That's right, dear mademoiselle. Spare your favors for a more deserving customer. There's titled blood here waiting to be comforted
—
a pining young nobleman jilted by his cruel diva
!"

"Damn you, Edouard!" A familiar voice was suddenly raised furiously in the dark interior of the coach. "You drunken, disgusting pigs, I should never have agreed to come with you! Drive on, for God's sake!"

"
My dear Raoul, why all this fuss? So your pretty little cock-tease dropped you
—
they're all the same, those stage girls! The least a friend can do is treat you to a good honest whore
—
and who else but a whore do you find in the Bois at this hour? Driver… driver, pull up over there like a good fellow
."

"Get into the carriage quickly!"

Erik's voice was like ice, and I obeyed it without hesitation, tearing the hem of my gown in my haste to follow his

curt command. The other brougham was now swaying dangerously as it unloaded its occupants on the opposite side of the road. Three young nun were laughing as they dragged Raoul out of the cab between them and sent him sprawling unceremoniously in the mud.

Erik leapt into our carriage, slammed the door, and ordered our driver on.

And in that same moment Raoul looked up at my window and recognized me.

Oh, God! The look on his face when he saw me! I could not help twisting my head to look back at him with despair and I saw him run after our carriage, until the sheer hopeless futility of the effort defeated him.

When I turned back in my seat, I found Erik watching me with all the dangerous stillness of a jungle predator.

"I must deplore your young man's taste in company, my dear, " he said chillingly.

After that he ignored me for the remainder of the journey, staring out the window in a brooding silence that seemed to crush me against the carriage seat.

When we returned to the house on the lake he went straight to the piano in the drawing room arid began to punch the keys in a series of savage chords. He was sliding rapidly into the blackest mood I had ever seen, and I cast around desperately for something to take his mind from that disastrous encounter.

"Shall I sing for you?"

He stopped playing and sat back for a moment, making a deliberate effort to halt the insidious downward spiral before he spoke.

"Of course… your lesson." He sighed. "I promised, did I not? Come, then, you shall choose the piece yourself tonight, a reward for your days of patient obedience."

I chose the duet from
Rigoletto.
Let him sing out his rage and purge himself of the dark emotions that were festering inside. Only when he was rid of that savage anger would it be safe to sing the soft Breton melodies that might restore his shattered peace
.

Our voices met in a fierce, almost elemental clash, soared and swooped and fell at length into the startled silence that greets a truly unique achievement. But stunned as I was by my success, I was totally unprepared for the rare and astonishing tribute which he chose to pay me as he looked up from the keyboard.

"You would triumph now on any stage in the world, my dear. I wonder if you know what happiness your voice has given me these past six months, what pride I take in your remarkable attainment."

I bowed my head to hide my sudden emotion. Too much, this praise! It took my breath away and made me feel weak and tremulous. I knew now why he so seldom indulged in praise
—
it obviously wasn't good for me, I couldn't cope with it. Somehow it was far easier to bear his gentle yet relentless criticism
.

"You are weary," he said kindly. "Perhaps we should stop now."

"No… I'm not tired, Erik, not in the least. I'm just… I'd like to continue, please."

"
Very well. "He turned away and began looking through scores, allowing me time to regain my composure. "We'll try the final scene from
Aida
. I always think this scene should be played in a wedding dress, don't you
?—
a young girl choosing to be entombed with her lover, preferring to die in his arms below the ground rather than face life without him. Terrible melodrama, of course, but one can get away with almost anything on the stage providing the music has

the strength to cany the scene. There's a wedding dress in the costume closet. Perhaps you'd like to put it on."

I didn't move.

"A wedding dress?" I echoed uneasily.

He glanced up at me and then quickly away.

"It's only a costume, " he said coldly, "only a prop to help you feel the character better… but of course, if you'd rather not, we'll forget I mentioned it." He began to close up the score. "Perhaps it would be as well to leave this scene after all. You're obviously not ready to face the emotional demands of the 'Terra, addio.' "

"I am!" I declared indignantly. "I'm perfectly capable
¹
. Oh, please, Erik, let me try! It's such a wonderful part, such a beautiful story!"

"Yes, "he murmured faintly, staring down at his hands where they rested soundlessly against the keys, "it's a very beautiful story."

He said no more and after a moment I hurried away to change.

Unlike the rest of the outfits that hung in the costume closet, the wedding dress was bandbox new, cut to the extreme dictates of fashion from shimmering white satin. It fitted me perfectly, just as though it had been tailored to my measurements, and as I fastened the hooks the words of that little man in the underground passage came back to me.

So it was for you, the wedding dress and the ring… God has surely chosen you in His wisdom, just as He once chose Our Lady…

Adjusting the veil, severely hampered by the lack of a mirror, I closed my eyes against a memory which threatened fresh tears. If I had a franc for every tear I've shed these last six months, I'd be a wealthy woman now!

The dress spread out around me like the stiff petals of a

flower, and I needed no mirror in truth to know how it became me. Erik had exquisite taste and a wonderfully acute eye for detail. I wondered how many designs he had discarded before deciding on this particular gown. Perfection, always perfection… nothing less would ever do in anything to which he set his mind.

Making a mighty effort to compose myself, I returned to the drawing room.

"
Erik
…"

He turned slowly, and as he stared at me the score slid from his grasp and dispersed itself in loose sheets across the floor.

"
Leave them!" he said curtly when I made a movement to retrieve the scattered papers. "We'll work without accompaniment. Begin from your recitative
'My heart foreseeing…'"

I hesitated uncertainly. He knew that Radames should begin this scene, it wasn't fair to throw me in like this without so much as a guiding chord.

"Begin!" he repeated, and the ominous note of rising anger in his voice acted on me like a spur on a highly strung mare, made me plunge into the recitative without a further thought.

" 'My heart foreseeing your condemnation, into this tomb I made my way by stealth, and here, far from every human gaze, in your arms I wished to die.'"

I waited for him to reply with the answering recitative, but abruptly he turned away from me.

"This was a mistake… a terrible mistake! Christine, please go back to your room and take that gown off quickly. "

He wrapped both arms around his chest in a fierce strangling hold that frightened me, made me take a step toward him in alarm.

"Are you ill?" I whispered in horror. "Are you ill again?"

"No!" His voice was a strangled breath that somehow, at the last moment, managed to become a bitter laugh. "Yes… perhaps it is a kind of sickness, in a way. Go to your room and leave me alone for a while, would you, my dear?"

"
But if you're ill I ought to stay
—"

"Damn you!" he cried, slamming his clenched fist against the piano. "Damn your infernal innocence! You bloody ignorant child… get out of this room quickly and bolt your door! Do you hear me? Bolt your door!"