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Novel Christine lowered Gaston Leroux’s book, which she’d been reading aloud for several hours now, to her lap. Erik listened, his head inclined against the wing of his armchair, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"I can’t believe how well he’s portrayed the managers," he choked around his laughter. "It is simply too much!"
His wife’s face creased with a frown. "I don’t know, Erik … I cannot like his description of us. Were we ever such foolish innocents?"
"It matters not, my love," he smiled, rising and going to her; "my plans for you at this moment are far from innocent."
Let Him Speak For someone who until recently had been just a no-name chorus girl, Christine Daae’s wedding was quite a social occasion. Hundreds crowded the cathedral to admire her gown, witness the ceremony, and gossip about the events that had preceded it.
Just as the bishop was beginning the vows, a commotion ensued in the nave. "Stop!" cried a masculine voice. "I object!"
"Mademoiselle," admonished the clergyman; "do you know this person?"
Rolling her eyes scornfully, Christine replied, "Yes, Father … a jilted lover …"
"Pray excuse the poor, stubborn Vicomte," Erik added, stroking his bride’s hand lovingly. "His jealousy is understandable."
Years had passed since the events concerning Christine, and Erik remained in his subterranean home. It had been difficult at first, but with Nadir’s friendship he had managed somehow.A Most Forgiving Man But one night, as he sat quietly before the fire, a clamoring of alarms disturbed his repose. His long-silent doorbell …
Suddenly, Christine burst into the room and fell prostrate before him. "Erik, please -" she cried, "I am so desperately sorry!"
She lay her head against his knee and wept; he was stunned. But noticing she clutched a book in her trembling hand, he paused to examine the cover…
Pygmalion.
Tournament
Nadir shook his head – he could barely believe the scene unfolding around him. A cozy flat overlooking the Seine, a fire glowing cheerily in the grate, and Christine Daae embroidering in an armchair before it …Over the chessboard, he and Erik waged their comfortable war. With neat precision, his friend vanquished his bishop.
"I cannot understand it, Erik," Nadir cried, throwing up his hands. "You have the Devil’s own luck!"
"True," smiled the former Phantom, with a glance over his shoulder at his beautiful bride; she returned his adoring gaze. "Now, Nadir, own it!"
"Very well," sighed the Persian; "Checkmate."
In One Moment
The kiss lasted a long time, and each felt the past melting away in its warmth. Though they finally parted, Erik could scarcely tear his eyes away from Christine’s precious face."Oh, Christine," he whispered, as though he were afraid sound might shatter this perfect moment; "I cannot help but feel that we have somehow made history."
She smiled. "I know, Erik … and someday, someone will write fantastic stories about us."
"I hope they will be brief and elegant," he mused, gently stroking her cheek.
She kissed him suddenly, heatedly. "My love … do not discount passionate epics …."
Angel of Healing
There had never been anything more rewarding than Christine’s new work – the Great War had killed thousands, left hundreds more disfigured. Erik’s face was handsome by comparison to those of the men she nursed now she had given up her childish fantasies of fame."Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder one evening.
"For making dinner?" he smiled, maskless.
"For the chance to care for you."
He sobered. "I am not one of your patients, Christine."
"No," she replied, just as serious. "I am yours - you have healed my heart of selfishness, and taught me compassion … and love."
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