Her fingers trailed across the cold, reflective surface, tracing her image as the water warped and rippled her features. She recalled so many nights, and especially the first- following her triumph in Hannibal-when he had brought her here. The innumerous candles had made the lake appear as if it were liquid fire. The whole evening had seemed so much a girl's romantic dream. But, her life now, five years since that first journey below the opera, was more than mere fantasy- none would have imagined the turns which fate had thrown her- though this existence would not evaporate into the memories she conjured up from the core of her being.

She fought the inexplicable urge to raise her voice in song, to once more hear the soaring melodies he had so effortlessly woven into golden sound, echo along the grotto, bouncing from the cavernous walls and skipping across the water's surface like a thrown pebble. But, it would not be wise to give in to this urge, no matter how powerful the pull of music upon her soul. It was not yet time to announce her presence. Instead, the young woman let out a heavy sigh and slowly rose from her kneeling position by the bank.

The gondola bobbed just to the right, acting as a silent witness to her arrival. The keeper of a secret she would soon share with him. Straightening the weighty folds of her gown, she found her balance and made the few steps to the boat. A faint smile ghosted across her soft features. He would be waiting for her; but it was her anticipation of their meeting that never waned. Tonight would not be the same as any other in his company. No music lesson to pass these precious hours which they made great efforts to steal. The rest of the world, her life above this hidden labyrinth, did not allow time for the unconventional reality of their making. So, they sheltered it, hid the very workings of their hearts from all but one another.

Not without a minor struggle for balance, the woman set her slippered foot into the gondola, bracing herself on the pole which would propel her to his home. As the boat wobbled with the introduction of her weight, she was made to realize that this task- the usually simple routine of rowing across to her adopted sanctuary- would not be one of ease for her this time. It had been a little over a month since her last visit, and she was not the same girl who took the pole with the skillful control of the confident veteran. Anticipation made her grip quiver, and her palms began to sweat at the realization that she would soon be wrapped in the intoxicating comfort of his arms, and not the stale hold of the dank lagoon. But, her joy, and the reflection of which she hoped to provoke in him, drew her ever closer to his door.

As the gondola came to a smooth stop on the bank before his home, Christine once more paused to view her reflection in the liquid mirror below her feet. "No," she sighed with relief, "no longer the same girl." Her hand coursed across the silk of her white bodice, feeling the curves of her body as if to assure that the image displayed in the water was indeed real. "I must grow up now," she exited the boat soundlessly. Taking a moment to gather her composure, to calm the passionate fire that grew with each second that brought her nearer to him, she gently tapped her knuckle on the door. And as the tempting sound of his footsteps brought him ever closer to the door, Christine offered herself one final reassurance. "We will make him happy, little one. I know you will be your father's son." The door opened to reveal her lover's silhouette. One palm resting protectively on the growing bump of her belly, Christine reached out for the hand of her dark angel.