The Treasure *Phantom of the Opera* (sequel to The Quest)

X

I Will Follow

Chapter X

Music is moonlight in the gloomy night of life.
~Jean Paul Richter

xXx

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Celeste searched the brothers' bungalows, speeding up her efforts when she realized that both families would soon return from a day's labor of tending the soil that nurtured fragile new grapevines. She recalled the discussion among both men and the Vicomte yesterday, when she eavesdropped near his bedroom door. She knew only what little Spanish she learned since she'd been brought to this place, but when conversing with the Vicomte, the brothers spoke in French, rough but understandable. They had bemoaned the crop failures of the previous year due to the invasion of insects that fed off the roots, explaining their need for money to ensure their families were well fed until a successful harvest for which they hoped. Celeste listened closely as the Vicomte then asked both men the location of the ring, but they either pretended ignorance or truly did not know of its existence. She didn't listen to the entire conversation, having heard their mother enter the cottage, and left before the woman could discover her. Later that night, the Vicomte, not believing the men, ordered Celeste to search both their homes, which led to her hunt now.

Kneeling on the cupboard, she peered into the last teacup on the high shelf when she heard someone's heavy step outside the door. She hopped down, her eyes scouting for a place to hide in this room scarce of furnishings. Before she could escape, the door opened, revealing the men's stout mother, Lucinda. In both hands she held a shallow basket, steaming with the delicious aroma of pan con tomate bread, tomato and garlic filling the air. The woman's eyes grew wide to see Celeste. Thinking quickly, Celeste smiled, approaching the Señora as though she'd not just been caught in a place where she didn't belong.

"I looked for you," Celeste explained, using hand signals to help bridge the language barrier for words she didn't know, "at your casa. I hoped you might be here." Neither the Spanish woman nor her sons' families barricaded their doors on this remote parcel of land, often visiting their relations without word or warning, walking through the door at any time of the day, so Celeste hoped Señora Lucinda would believe her explanation. She further relied on the astonishing fact that the Señora treated Celeste as her own since the night she first entered her cottage. Thinking on that, for a moment Celeste knew dismay – yearning to share in the closeness of family and hating that she must deceive this kind woman – before remembering to enact her pretense of innocence. Tamping down her guilt, Celeste craned her neck to peek inside the basket. She licked her lips.

"Mmm. I am, um – hambre."

Whatever suspicions the Señora might have formed eased as she laughed at Celeste's dramatics, slapping away her hand while she set the basket on the table. "Venido," she said, crooking her finger for Celeste to come with her. "There is more."

Celeste left with the Señora, walking with her through the twilight down the path to her cottage and inside, to the kitchen. Celeste sank to the chair Lucinda motioned toward and soon the rotund woman placed a platter heaped with food before her.

"I'm sure going to miss it here," she mused aloud before diving into her meal as if half-starved. The woman chuckled and bustled about her kitchen, preparing the Vicomte's tray. "I wish you could understand me," Celeste mused, watching the Señora ladle soup into a bowl from the kettle over the open fire. The woman looked her way and nodded with a bright smile, clearly not understanding a word Celeste said. Celeste sighed and ate while continuing to observe the woman, who always seemed so happy, and wondered if she should attempt to question her.