I arrived a little later than I had planned. I could only access the Ball through the subscriber's foyer, so I had to wait among the crowd, outside, as any other guest. And how many guests! The entrance of the Opera was a big mess, carriages parked further than my eyes could reach.
But once inside, all my thoughts got lost. I felt like I had just stepped into a world of fantasy. Everything was so colorful I felt dizzy at first. Shining, moving, laughing, dancing; people, tons of people, filled the room in a joyful multitude.
The initial feeling of insecurity, for not being escorted by a gentleman, passed as I noticed the Ball atmosphere was far from being formal. In spite of the wealth of the costumes, the jewelry adorning them, and the many luxurious carriages outside, the attitudes behind the masks differed little from a suburb tavern's occupants.
As I walked past a group of pirates, one of the Sea Men looked intentively at me, making me blush under my veil. I had always enjoyed parties, that game of seeing and being seen was fun when played carefully. I gave him a shy smile, one thing everyone knew that not always translates the women's intentions.
On some other occasion, it might have been an exciting situation, and something to develop. Now I just wanted to concentrate in finding out why Erik sent me there, and where he was. Oh, he had to come!
The orchestra played enthusiastically, making my body move unconsciously with the rhythm. As I watched the couples moving gracefully on the dance floor, I accepted a glass of wine, served by a waiter disguised as a king. I drank it slowly, thinking of my neglected dance, thinking of my wait.
He was so unpredictable. And it appeared that any movement or word of his would be transformed into a sign of hope by my obsessed mind and heart. Sometimes I would bring so much fantasy, so much longing to my life, that my reality would become obscure and treacherous.
I couldn't help but notice people glaring at me, men and women alike, out of admiration and envy. It was a good new feeling, though I welcomed it as ephemeral. I knew the falsehood of this glamour, for certainly on the following night, when I was wandering around the Opera or out on the streets, the same people would pass me again, and I wouldn't even be noticed. I would be an ordinary person again.
Beauty is definitely a devilish quality.
It was not before midnight that Erik showed up. And to think I had feared not recognizing him in the masquerade...The awareness of his presence was given away immediately by wild comments and some unusual movement in the Ball Room. People had stopped dancing, if only for a moment, and agglomerated around him. And that was the minimum one could expect, given what he did...
His extremely tall figure seemed even taller and more imposing, red fabrics coming down his shoulders, like flames of hell ruled by the deathly eyes above them - for he had come without his mask, in a shocking and majestic costume, which intensified every inch of his hideousness! I held my breath as I looked at him intensily, my mouth slightly agape.
What amazed me so much was not the terrifying aspect of his, but rather his audacity and wit. Within five minutes the whole Ball had finally stopped completely, and everyone who took sight of him was immobilized as if by sorcery.
A few more daring fellows commended his mask and make up, while the majority of the guests turned away at the poor taste of the "joke" of creating such a disgusting death head. As he turned his back to where I was, I read the golden letters of his long scarlet cloak, "Don't touch me! I am Red Death stalking abroad."
A smile came naturally to my face. "I love that man," I thought playfully, as I watched people shivering at his presence. "Can he really get some sick amusement from scaring people with his own face?"
After spending some time among so many gypsies, clowns, fairies, and dominos, one would forget that not everything you see is a disguise. And I had to constantly remind myself that it was not a mask that he was wearing. However, his face didn't look so gruesome to me as it did when I first saw it.
Maybe it was due to the white make up he had applied to the skin, covering its sick aspect, and making it look more like an artificial death head than an alive deformity. Or maybe I was just getting used to the sight...
The dignity with which he paced around the room bewildered me. He assumed a somewhat supernatural aspect, when combined with this imponence and power that surrounded him. That made him even more scary, for the intense mixed feelings he inspired and spread.
Unexpectedly, a loud groan of pain came out of the crowd that had before surrounded the ghastly masquerade. People stepped back fast, bumping in each other, nervously afasting from the spot where Red Death was standing. Beside him, a young man dressed in a white costume bent almost to the floor, his face contorted with pain. His arm was seized by Red Death's long fingers, who muttered, coldly and morbidly "No one lays a hand on Red Death's mask".
His violence and strengh, for some reason, didn't really surprise me. What bothered me was seeing how much hate he could restrain inside of himself, always ready to be released in one of his fits of temper...
I waited until the incident was over, and as if taking the mission upon myself of rescuing this tender part of him, I held my long skirts and ran for him, anxious. I touched his shoulders lightly from behind him, thrilled with the fact that I could, at last, touch him and talk with him. He turned around furiously toward me, as I had imagined he would. I raised my veil and smiled at him, girlishly. "Good evening, Erik!"
His evil expression changed immediately to something I interpretted as a smile, a sweet and unsure smile in spite of the ugliness of his mouth and the surprise of his expression.
"I didn't expect to be recognized," he commented seriously, and I believed he said the truth.
"I know you well," I said meaningfully, making him more confused. "Besides, I could recognize your eyes anywhere."
I felt nervous under my pleasant attitude. The proximity of his face distressed me quite a bit, for though it didn't scare me anymore, it was considerably hard not to stare. Did he feel pain in those many rough and sunken spots?
The bridal gown didn't help me to feel easier either, for in my mind, the choice seemed absolutely perfect, now that I was standing in front of him. "I am the Red Death's Bride for the night," I thought, secretly hoping it was a little true. Could he ever imagine the wild things that went through my mind?
The king-waiter passed by and I grabbed two glasses of wine, offering one to him.
"Thank you for sending me the invitation, Erik."
He nodded, blinking his eyes.
I could tell he felt a little uncomfortable talking with me, for everyone was staring at us mercilessly. Not that he had felt anywhere close to shy when he was "Red Death stalking abroad," but spending time talking with a woman hadn't been in his plans.
I watched him drinking his wine, all at once. Some of the red liquid was left in the damp wrinkles of his twisted lips, and it made me think of blood, pouring from his mouth, from that creature of death. His costume was, in fact, appropriate.
Putting the glass aside, he lifted a red handkerchief to his mouth, cleaning his lips softly, his eyes lightly closed. It was ironic that such an abominable appearance was incapable of one single graciousless movement! He was so contradictory, so confusing!
Erik was a person impossible to be described, for he could show himself in the most various ways in less than a second, in a span of time too short for one to know how they felt towards him. I could totally lose myself, if I allowed me to, entertained in these little moments that held so much grace, in their own way. Had he any idea of how seductive he could be, sometimes?
Seeing him acting so naturally, being a man and not a ghost, in spite of the circumstances... My eyes were bonded to his face, and I felt an urge of touching him, caressing him.
"How do you like my new mask?" His voice was cutting and hoarse, breaking the spell I felt over me. I kept looking into his eyes, and asked, ignoring his comment, "Erik? Would you dance with me?"
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