Christine closed her eyes. There was a certain momentum in Erik's driving.

At some time during the night they had crossed the Doubs River. Henceforth, they had entered Switzerland.

The carriage was dark and silent. Except for the soft whisper as they glided down the path, and the tread of the horses in the mud.

It had rained overnight. Christine could not imagine what they were going to.

She had tried every position on the seat. But still, her aching back would not subside. She could not fully relax. Especially not with Gulzar opposite her.

When he came inside at night he was exhausted. So, he could just drop off to sleep.

Not her.

She could not trust him.

She yearned for her husband. Erik was guiding the horses with his gentle hands. She imagined her husband sitting up there. As she had left him.

With his top hat pulled down low, and that silly disguise. It was a mask which he was sure made him look normal. But nothing made Erik look normal.

She had to admit it was less conspicuous than his black masks. It was flesh-coloured, and it moulded over a fake nose.

It was the best he could do. But people would still notice his unusual eyes. And his lips, too. He had to eat and speak. So he kept them revealed.

She appreciated Erik trying to fit in. After all, she was scared. What future was there for her, with a husband who looked so ostentatious?

Christine was worried. And she did not want to tell him.

She tried, again, to change her position. She cursed. Christine had not forgotten the swear words she had learned in Paris.

Where would they end up? In a large city? Or a tiny village?

Erik was always very indulgent when they talked about it. He said he would take her anywhere she wanted. But would she truly be happy?

It was about five. Cold was seeping into the carriage. Christine knew, soon, it was time for changeover.

She was feeling cranky. Where was their food? There was not so much of it left.

The pastries were probably stale now. They still had some salami. Christine wanted the salted, boiled eggs. She felt like raiding the basket in front of Gulzar. She felt like picking it up from where it rested under his damn legs.

Oh, when would Erik come?

It seemed she waited too long. Then finally, she heard Erik's whip tap against the front of the carriage.

Gulzar sat up. Christine felt the carriage slow down. She sighed with relief.

The carriage came to a standstill. Muttering, Gulzar slipped out. The world was still inky black outside.

Christine listened, impatient, to the whickering of the horses and the men talking.

She waited at the door.

Finally, she heard her husband's footsteps. She could never mistake them. Not even when they was thudding on the soft earth.

At last he opened the door. He held out his arms. "Erik!" she said.

"Sssh." He held her close. "We will have to go into the woods."

She walked quietly, by his side, towards the trees. She had longed to be with him. She did what was necessary, and then washed best she could in the little stream. Then she guarded him.

Later they walked back, hand in hand.

As he helped her back into the carriage she grumbled. "I wish I could go to a real bathroom."

He laughed. "That's not too far off."

Christine tumbled into the darkness of the carriage. When Erik came up she squeezed him, like a rag doll.

He toyed with her buttons. He undid her dress and corset, and pulled down the tight elastic hems of her petticoats. He rubbed her chafe marks. She sighed as he buried his head between her breasts.

"I like to feel your softness, Christine," he murmured. "I hate it how that underwear makes your breasts feel so hard."

Christine smiled. Erik easily slid her panties down. Then he finally pulled her chemise over her head.

He nuzzled his head against her. He passed a hand round to her naked back.

"Rest," she whispered.

"Christine," he groaned. "Did you know that I used to come and watch you sleep?"

"Yes." She helped him with his coat. Christine did not want Erik to feel uncomfortable.

"Back then," he sighed, "I thought you would never embrace me."

"Oh, Erik. They were hard days."

She undressed him. Although it was cold, they felt a lot better brushed up to each other's skin. Erik pulled the blanket over them. Now they were languidly comfortable.

He did something that surprised her. He picked up the picnic basket. She saw him open it. And he put something in his mouth.

She gasped. "You ate something! I caught you doing it!"

He laughed. "I know I have to be good."

Christine smiled. She nestled into his side.

"Gulzar was hiding the basket under his legs when he was in here," she said, cross.

"I'll punch him. Well, when we arrive in Bern, we will get rid of him."

Christine would be glad when that happened. Gulzar had almost stopped Erik from having a happy ending. And he had almost stopped her from knowing her own heart.

Christine would look forward to getting her privacy back, too. She was so tired of relieving herself and washing with Gulzar knowing it. It would be so nice when it was just she and her husband.

She rubbed Erik comfortingly. He was sorer than her. She was smarting a bit. But he was the one who had been sitting for hours in the driver's seat.

He laid there silently. He twitched occasionally. "Oh, my back," he moaned.

Christine rubbed. His back softened. He curled himself around her, like a little child.

Her movements became rhythmic. Presently, she sensed his mood was changing.

Christine sighed inwardly.

Erik was moving into his aggressive, depressed mood. It struck him at odd times. There was no predicting with him.

His hand began to thump listlessly against the wall.

"Nobody loves me," he murmured.

"I do."

"What do you mean?" he burst out. "You just pretend. You're just sorry for me because I'm an ugly old bastard."

"Oh, Erik." She put her arms around him. "I am your Christine."

Erik bashed his head against the wall. She saw him shake, wave his arms and yell. Christine waited patiently until it was over.

He took her hands in his.

"I'm so sorry my darling." He buried his head, helplessly, in her lap.

Christine stroked him. She comforted him gently.

"I'm a fool. I never do anything right," he murmured. "Only an absolute angel, like you, could put up with me."

"Don't worry. I want you."

"You couldn't stay with me. I am stupid. I will only bring you sorrow."

She smiled. "Then I am a fool too. Because I don't want to leave you. I don't care! I'm bound to you forever."

He grinned. They snuggled together, and rested.

The carriage finally rolled to a stop at midday.

Christine was quite scared.

For two days they had been cut off from the world. Now they were rejoining it, she felt instinctively there would be danger.

She slipped down. Her feet connected with the ground. They were in the stableyard of a hotel in Bern, in the German region of Switzerland.

She moved into Erik, scared.

Erik was deep in conversation with their accomplice.

"I don't know how to thank you, Gulzar."

"Nor I you. You have helped me a lot in our Parisian years."

"Now, you are to put that advertisement in the newspaper," said Erik. There was a certain enjoyment and mischief in his voice. "Make them think I am dead. As for my wife… she eloped."

"With the Vicomte de Chagny."

"And I believe they went to Sweden." Erik grinned, and bowed.

The men shook hands. Christine was relieved to see they were regaining their goodwill.

"I trust you will have a wonderful marriage. And farewell, Mrs Labrosse."

So, Gulzar had remembered that she and Erik did have a surname. Erik did not like to bear it. But he had reclaimed it for her sake.

Her being Mrs Erik, wife of Mr Erik- whose first name was supposedly Erik, as well as his surname- would have been a bit ridiculous.

The truth was, Erik's name was Guilliame Labrosse. That name, however, had been given by parents who had given him nothing but a name. Their cruelty had been mind-blowing.

So to her, and to anyone who would ever befriend them, he was Erik. He was only Guilliame on official documents. Erik was a name he had chosen, and it was a name she loved.

She shook Gulzar's hand. "Thank you for everything."

"Goodbye." Gulzar turned to leave.

They waved. Erik put his arm around her, and squeezed her tight. They watched Gulzar's retreating back.

"Just you and me," Erik whispered. "He shall continue to help us, remotely. He will cover our tracks."

"Are you still friends?"

"It goes back a long way. He'll forgive me for being grumpy these past few days. He knows, now, that what he did was wrong."

Christine huddled into Erik. He brushed her hair back from her forehead.

"He breached my confidence," whispered Erik. "It still hurts. But I think I can forgive him."

He led her through the stableyard. They were both deep in thought. A porter led the way with their luggage.

The porter let them into the imposing establishment. The building, which was five storeys high, was in the neo-baroque style. Gold cornices, sinuous columns and grand archways featured. They climbed a massive flight of stairs.

After getting very stiff from all that travelling, it was not the easiest thing. Christine grumped. Erik solved it. Although he was aching himself, he lifted and carried her.

Finally the porter opened the door of their room. Erik put her down. Her feet felt terribly numb as they hit the ground. The porter dropped their luggage, and left. He closed the door.

Christine looked around vaguely at the pastel fabrics and dainty baroque furniture.

She put her hands over her head.

"Aargh!"

"What's wrong?" asked Erik.

"I'm dying to wash."

"Can't you let me get in there first? You'll take forever! Please… I'm desperate to use the lavatory…"

She laughed. "All right."

Christine laid on the bed. She had bathed.

She was utterly naked, but the room was warm now Erik had stoked the fire. The bed had four shining oak posters. And lilac curtains.

Christine turned over and stretched languidly. She had never been in a room so luxurious.

She had not thought about it much. But her husband was rich. They could have an easy life.

Christine knew children were the main issue to think about.

She wanted them. And she knew Erik was looking forward to it. But she had no women friends to guide her…

Where would she make friends? Christine was not wonderful at speaking German. She just hoped it would work out.

Erik waltzed into the room. She watched him lean over and put on his cashmere robe.

"Our lunch will be here any minute now." He looked wistful. "I'm hungry."

Christine might have rather made love. But she was pleased by what he had to say.

"Erik, what is it… that has made you hungry?"

He smiled. "We are starting anew. Maybe I can let go of my old habits."

She hid behind the curtains when the maid knocked. She was very relieved when she smelt lunch.

Erik duly opened the curtains. He dropped her chemise over her head.

"No. You are not dripping all over your beautiful skin."

"Oh, that's horrid." She giggled. She wondered why he did not say he would lick it off.

He sat down next to her. She was rather surprised when he placed a tray on her lap.

"It's a bit more formal than the carriage," he said.

Christine thought this was so pleasant. So, Erik was getting more casual. He was losing some of his propriety! She grinned.

It was a plentiful meal. Christine was very relieved to eat. After two days picnicking and feeling deprived, she was all too happy to consume älplermagronen. Potato, bacon, leek and onion… with melted cheese and applesauce.

She kept shooting sly glances at Erik. He was sipping the wine they'd had brought up. But- heavens above- yes, he had eaten!

"Did you like it?"

He laughed.

"Yes. I must admit."

Later dessert was brought up. Walnut cake, with coffee, cream and sugar.

It was too delicious.

Soon, after making short work of that, she was fast asleep.

Christine woke.

She was refreshed. Erik, though, still slept.

Their room was well-lit. She got a good view of him. His face flushed and rosy. His naked body curling into the bedclothes.

He laid on his side.

It was very hot in the room. It had not been the time to make love. They'd both been hungry. And Christine would not have spoilt a chance of Erik eating.

Now, he was exhausted. She hoped he would not complain of stomach ache in the morning.

She smiled. It had been so nice, though, to see him guzzling älplermagronen.

Lit by the firelight, and the lamps, her husband's body had a certain beauty. His long neck and gracefully curving back. His sinuous frame, and elegant bone structure. His shapely yet slender legs. The honey-coloured birthmark on his left calf.

She leaned over and stroked his leg. She found him beautiful.

Erik opened his eyes and slowly woke up. In the depths of his golden eyes she saw nothing but tranquility.

"Come here," he breathed. His put his hands around Christine's naked shoulders. He drew her to him rather insistently. Erik was not timid like he had once been.

Christine inhaled his scent. She didn't think it was gross anymore. She just wanted to enter his soul. She wanted to be as close to him as possible, and smell him. Taste him. Partake of him.

His cock was huge. She laid back. He passed his hands over her body, sinking them into her moist, smooth flesh. So unlike his own skin. It was as if he was relishing everything he didn't have.

"Ah, Christine," he sighed. "I have waited so long for us to be like this. Far away from our cares… in a strange land. Starting anew. As if all that pain never happened."

She drew her hands down his back. He sighed. She scrunched his hair. His face fell forward onto her breasts, and then, devoutly, into her lap.

Lingering thoughts of the terrible incidents that had brought them here… and any remaining memories of Raoul… were blotted out.

Her husband's tongue found her. She felt languid. She collapsed, pathetic and jellylike. Her mouth formed into a helpless grin.

She let him please her. Every movement sent her further into delirium. When he was finished Christine did not know how she could ever make love again.

She smiled to herself.

She was now limp, and totally obedient. He had overloaded her senses. She did not know when she had been so sated.

Her thoughts could only be tenderness and warmth. For this kind man. And how extraordinarily he had pleased her.

His hand came to her back. It moved firmly down, then up to her neck. For a moment he stroked her gently down to her thighs. Then he tipped her over with a remarkable, firm insistence.

"Come here."

Her legs embraced him. He was remarkably virile and confident. His lovemaking was absolutely relentless.

Christine loved his energy. She laid there helpless.

Eventually he leaned down and kissed her forehead. Christine was bathed in sweat, and various other fluids. She wondered how he could ever do better.

"Love me?"

"I'd run round the world for you, Erik. I adore you."

"Am I beautiful?"

Christine kissed his brow tenderly, and stroked his face.

"Yes."

He smiled. He laid next to her.

"So I'm no longer that ugly man you felt sorry for."

"It was never like that. I wanted to enter you. Pass through you. Merge with you."

"Really?"

"I'd never leave you, Erik. I never could."

He finally relaxed. He rested his head on her breasts. She sorted through his hair.

"Will you do something for me then?" he asked.

Christine knew what he meant. She positioned herself so her face was level with his bellybutton.

She tickled his tummy. She brought her hands down his sides, and into his groin. He sighed.

She took his massive organ in her mouth. She lovingly stroked the soft skin underneath, between his legs. She could hear him getting excited. It was in his helpless, aimless whimpering.

She ran her finger all along his perineum. And into his arse, to excite him. Seed surged through his cock, palpable under her lips.

It gushed from him. She let it come into her mouth. She could hear his heart touching sighs as he grasped at her hair, moaning.

Afterwards they laid close. The warmth between each other was profound.

She passed her hand across his face.

She was finding him beautiful. Those deep eye sockets. That gap of space where a nose should have been. His thin lips. And the way he pulsed with sexual energy when she held him.

"Did I please you?" he asked.

"I worship you." She kissed those gentle, deprived lips. She had not thought she could be so happy.

"Is there anything I could do?" he asked.

"Not much," she said. "Why don't we live quietly? Tending a garden, raising crops from the earth. Watching the sun set over the mountains. Walking in the park, perhaps with little ones. Like the sound of that?"

"A wonderful plan, Christine." He grinned happily. "I think we shall."