Chapter 45: What I Have Gained

When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what attained,
Little room do I find for pride.

I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside.

But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

"Loss and Gain" By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

The front door closed with a soft click and Erik turned to walk across the marble foyer of his home. He paused for a moment to turn down the gas lamp near the foot of the grand staircase. The room showed just the palest hint of the dawn soon to come. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back and rolled his head from one shoulder to the other and back again. He straightened, rolled his shoulders and sighed.

"Well, that was one hell of a night. I think that was just about enough upset to last one lifetime. However, I can say that one good thing came of this night, other than saving my dear wife's immortal soul, of course, and for that reason alone, I would suffer through it all again. It was wonderful being able to meet and get to know Gustave. He really was a very special man. It is no wonder that Lilith wanted Christine. Having such a father made an extraordinarily special daughter. And, now that woman is my wife. Mon Dieu! I am truly thankful for everything I have gained."

He smiled and walked up the staircase, anxious to rejoin his beloved Christine.

"We have known each other less than a week in the real world, but I know more about her than I do about Raoul. I need to tell her about my life, although it seems rather boring when compared to hers."

He grinned and began to hum softly.

"And, now I shall go upstairs, take Christine into my arms and, if she is willing, spend the entire day holding her. After coming so close to losing everything that I ever dreamed of having, I burn with the need to taste of her lips and join my body with hers, but after everything that happened, how can I? Perhaps it would not be too much to ask to spend the day lying beside her. I need to hold her. I never want to let her go. And, although I understand that the world in which we spent time with Gustave was not real, it feels so strange to think of her as a woman and not a young girl. I know it goes against logic, but I almost feel perverted for having lustful thoughts about her. I wonder if she feels as strangely about this as I do, well, I suppose there is only one way to find out."

He quietly opened the door to the bedroom he shared with his wife. She sat, propped up with numerous pillows against the headboard of the bed. As she caught the movement of the door, she looked up and met Erik's eyes. He held his breath. A wide smile washed across her lips and flowed into her eyes. She held out her hand to him.

"Come, mon amour. I do believe there is plenty of room in this bed, especially now that it is just the two of us." She gave him an over-exaggerated roll of her eyes and a naughty smirk that suddenly dissolved into a huge yawn. "Sorry, I am tired and find that I cannot sleep unless you are here to hold me in your arms. Can you do that for me?"

He swiftly made his way across the room and placed his hand in hers.

"Do you even need to ask?"

They smiled at one another as they forgot the rest of the world for a time.

"Oh Maman, you are home at last! It is so near dawn and I began to think that you would never come back. How is Christine? Is she all right? What happened to her? Is Monsieur Destler all right? Maman please, you must tell me what is happening." The girl's questions tumbled in breathless succession from her lips.

Antoinette unfastened her cloak and unslung it from around her shoulders. She hung it on its accustomed hook next to the front door. She frowned at her daughter.

"Really, Meg, allow me to get both feet inside the door before you besiege me with questions. I need a nice hot cup of tea. Would you care to join me?"

Meg sighed. She knew her mother better than anyone else did and realized that she was not ready to speak about the events she witnessed that night. Her eyes drifted over her mother's bent form, taking in the weariness of her posture. When she turned towards Meg, the girl gasped as she took in the dark rings and heavy bags around her mother's eyes.

"Maman, did you not sleep at all last night? You look completely exhausted! Please, I cannot wait a moment longer. What happened?"

Her mother turned and walked away from her to enter their small kitchen. She went to the water jug and poured water from it into the kettle that she then placed atop the small potbelly stove. Moving to the cupboard, she opened it and selected the items she needed to make herself a cup of tea. Antoinette finally allowed herself to sink onto one of the chairs sitting around the small table. She smiled up at her daughter.

"Megan, do you remember the line from Hamlet that says, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." ¹ Well, I learned first-hand tonight the truth of that statement and I shall never forget it. You knew that Christine's life here at the opera house has not been a happy one. You know it better than most and, my darling Meg, I have been so proud of how you always tried to protect her and make her feel welcome..."

Meg's hands flew to her hips and she scolded her mother.

"Nonsense Maman, I did so little. I could have done so much more, but I did not because Christine made it too difficult. I could have tried harder to help her, but I did not. In all this time, do you realize that she hugged me only twice? And, both of those times were after she met Erik. He is the one deserving of praise, not me."

The older woman shook her head and held out her hands to her daughter. The girl hesitated a moment before walking to her mother and kneeling on the floor before her. Antoinette cradled her daughter's face in her hands and placed a soft, loving kiss on her forehead. She then drew the girl into a tight embrace with one arm and stroked the pale gold silk of her hair with the hand of the other.