Chapter 11: A Woman Absent

"Absent, adj. Peculiarly exposed to the tooth of detraction; vilified; hopelessly in the wrong; superseded in the consideration and affection of another.

To men a man is but a mind.
Who cares what face he carries or what form he wears?
But woman's body is the woman.
O, stay thou, my sweetheart, and do never go,
but heed the warning words the sage hath said:
a woman absent is a woman dead."

Jogo Tyree

Excerpt from "Cynic's Word Book" by Ambrose Bierce © 1906, Doubleday, Page and Company

He walked across the room with an air of confidence he did not feel. He felt surprised that a being as frail as the one lying on the bed before him, propped up by numerous pillows could exude such an enormous sense of calm and control. She wore a simple nightdress of gray linen and her long dark hair rested on her chest braided into two neat plaits. The worn comforter adorning her bed covered her modestly. Her hands lay atop the comforter, clasped serenely upon her lap. Sensing the movement in the shadows, she raised her eyes to his and smiled.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Erik. You wished to see me?"

Erik blushed at her words and not for the first time did the thought cross his mind, that this slip of a woman enjoyed tormenting him with words, which held two meanings — one, innocent and one, not. His eyes shifted towards Madame Giry whose eyes were intently observing Christine when she felt his gaze upon her. The woman acknowledged him with a brief nod before she spoke.

"I shall leave you two for now, but please Monsieur, make your visit short. Christine needs to sleep so that she may fully recover by tomorrow."

She raised an eyebrow at him with a small, knowing smile and then after giving Christine an affectionate pat on her hand, she withdrew from the room.

Antoinette breathed a sigh of relief as she entered her sitting room and then froze, shocked at the sight that met her eyes. Sitting on the settee, locked in a passionate embrace and kissing one another deeply were Meg and the young Vicomte de Chagney. Lost in the throes of their passion, the two lovers had not noticed that they were no longer alone. Antoinette's stunned silence broke as she saw Raoul's hand begin to slip from her daughter's shoulder and slide to the front of her chest.

"Monsieur le Vicomte! What do you think you are doing to my daughter? Meg! To your room, now!"

She pointed towards the hallway with her cane before she swung around to face the somewhat breathless young man. Meg let out a mortified squeal, pushed herself from Raoul's arms and dashed out of the room with her hands covering her crimson cheeks. The flush on Raoul's face almost matched Meg's, but Antoinette could tell the cause of his flushed cheeks was not from embarrassment. The young man turned and began to make a hasty retreat, heading in the direction of the quarter's front door. His step checked by the woman's growl of displeasure.

"Monsieur le Vicomte ... Raoul de Chagney! How dare you compromise my daughter? Do not move from that spot! I have held my tongue until now, but now you will feel the lash of it. I welcomed you into my home and this is how you repay me? You take advantage of my daughter's innocence and you do it under my roof. I think not, Monsieur! You have just given me ample evidence of your unsavory intentions towards my daughter. And, you, Monsieur, call yourself a gentleman? Bah! Why should I allow you to enter my home again? Why should I grant you permission to call on my daughter again? Please, Monsieur. I would very much like to know."

A silence pervaded the entire room, so heavy that the man bowed under its weight. His shoulders slumped in defeat as he spoke in a voice so quiet it forced Antoinette to take a step closer to him in order that she could hear his reply.

"I have no excuse, other than I am in love with your daughter, Madame. I truly love her. I do!"

He hung his head and turned away from the outraged older woman.

"Well, that is all very fine and good for you to say, but what do you intend to do with your feelings for my daughter?"

Raoul fumbled in his pocket for a moment and then withdrew a small, square jeweler's box. He held the box out to Antoinette, who realizing what the box contained let out a shocked hiss.

"You intend to propose to my daughter? You wish to take my Meg as your wife?"

Dropping his gaze to the floor, he fidgeted and then muttered.

"If you will allow it and she will have me, yes."

Christine nodded towards the chair Madame Giry had just vacated.

"Monsieur, this has been a trying day for the both of us. Please pull the chair up closer to the bed or..."

She paused, as she graced Erik with a devilish grin before she continued.

"There is plenty of room here next to me on the bed. Actually, Erik, I would prefer the second choice. I would very much love to cuddle with you as well as..."