Unmasked Read Online Free PDF Page A

Perhaps even quelling a deeper
fluttering...

    I jolted myself out of these romantic
fancies. I firmly reminded myself that men, especially ones
possessed of fine physiques such as Erik’s, do not lavish affection
on one such as I. He wanted companionship, that was all. Someone to
dispel the loneliness. I was to be his Persephone, nothing
more.
    “For a time,” I said, irritated at the catch
in my breath. I had thought my reserve to be impenetrable, but his
flattery was intoxicating. Sometimes I wished that I would grow old
quickly, so that being old, fat, and ugly, I should finally lose
all hope of having someone falling in love with me, and never again
be plagued by these romantic fancies that crush me with
disappointment. “We shall keep each other company for a time,” I
said, acutely aware once again of that metal door slamming shut on
my heart.
    He nodded curtly and left me in the
chamber.
    The room, so lavishly furnished with romantic
opulence, seemed remarkably empty now that he’d left. I looked
around. It was decorated with great love and attention to the
comfort of its occupant. I saw his touch in every article, from the
jeweled hairbrush to the Oriental silks on the bed, all placed in
reverent care of the woman for whom it was really intended.
    Christine Daaé .
     
    I could not tell when morning arrived;
sunlight dared not encroach upon the Phantom’s lair. I remained
abed, bathing in the syrupy languor brought on by the memory of my
conversations with Erik.
    My thoughts turned again to the woman he had
been smitten with, the woman whose bed I now occupied. I could not
fathom the nature of the kind of love that makes a man pursue even
the one who hurts him. It would be akin to my loving the blacksmith
who moo’d at me whenever I walked past his shop. How beautiful must
this Christine have been to drive a hardened man like Erik to such
extremes of longing?
    I went looking for him and found him in what
appeared to be a conservatory. The room had an unloved feeling, the
instruments dusty with neglect. He came to the door to greet
me.
    “Good morning. Was the bed to your liking?”
He was wearing a richly colored dressing gown and a pasha’s cap,
reminiscent of his time in the Orient.
    “Yes, thank you.”
    “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a
breakfast for you in the other room. I trust it shall be dark
enough.”
    I was at once touched by the gesture and
embarrassed by it. I didn’t wish to eat in a corner like an animal,
but this man had shown a sensitivity to my feelings, and I chose to
be grateful. Anxious to converse with Erik, I raced through my
meal.
    I found him back in his conservatory. He was
tearing the room apart.
    “Have you lost something?” I asked.
    He stopped and gave me a long measuring
stare. “To the contrary,” he said softly. “I think I have found
something quite extraordinary.”
    I wondered at his meaning as he continued.
“There is much I have to collect from the world above. For one
thing, I seem to have run out of parchment.” It was then I noticed
the sheaf of papers tucked under his arm lined and dotted with
musical notation. Just then, he overturned a heavy volume, under
which lay a stack of paper. “Ah, here we are.”
    “What are you doing?”
    The corners of his mouth lifted. “I am
committing ‘Paulette’ to paper.”
    Blinking in disbelief, I took the sheets from
him. Inscribed at the top, in a fine bold hand, was the title of
the piece: The Resurrection . Beneath it, just above the
lines of music, were the words, “Paulette’s Song.”
    I smiled at the tribute. It pleased me that
such a man would honor me, of all people. There were pages upon
pages of music, the same unearthly music that had enraptured both
of us last night. I turned the pages over delicately, letting the
notes rise from the page and float around me like freed
butterflies.
    I turned to him, a thousand thank-you's
forming on my lips. I looked incredulously at the man who stood
before