So caught up was he in trying to come up with the next set of notes that he did not pay any mind when Lovisa began to sob – again. Only Christine’s accusing voice finally made him look away from the page upon which he had been writing. He spied the tearful little girl, and then Christine’s stern expression, and had the decency to look abashed. Christine had asked him to keep an eye on her, had she not? What he said, however, was, “I must have some time to compose, my dear.” This much was true, although Erik could spend his entire day doing nothing but composing and still wish to stay up well into the night doing so. One could not say Erik was not a devoted man. Still, he could not help but feel a twinge of guilt as he watched his daughter cry, and thought inevitably of how much better a father Raoul de Chagny would have made. “She is not hurt?”
Erik was looking rather stunned - had he even been aware that Christine was not in the room? He was trying hard to be a good husband and father, and she knew that the strain this put on his still rather sombre temperament sometimes was close to unbearable.
Christine felt a pang of guilt as Erik looked up at her from his composition – he looked so tired, and all he had wanted today was a little time to compose. It was hardly his fault that his daughter’s insatiable curiosity about the world was leading her to bump in to things…besides, wasn’t that normal for a child of her age? She sighed. “ No, no…she will be fine. I’m sorry Erik, I know how little time you get to compose these days.” Seating herself next to him on the arm of the chair, she sat in silence for a moment as he continued to scribble notes on the manuscript in his rather scrawling hand. How, she wondered, had anyone ever been able to read those notes he sent back in the opera house? The page looked like a spider had bathed in ink and then run across it!
In her arms, Lovisa began to squirm: all tears apparently now forgotten, she was reaching out in the direction of her father’s voice and babbling ‘papa’ at him. Christine could not help but feel a little resentful – despite the fact that she spent so much time with Lovisa, playing with her and comforting her, she still seemed to prefer Erik’s company to her own. Giving up the struggle at last, she deposited her on Erik’s lap, heedless of the fact he was still trying to write. “We need a bigger house, Erik…one with a music room for you, where you can compose. And…” She bit her lip thoughtfully, not entirely sure how to phrase her next statement. “…and one where we have a bedroom to ourselves.” Despite herself, she blushed.