Tragedie"Tragédie"Fully flushed in the face from the close encounter-with Erik's seemingly simple gesture or the appearance of the car of Raoul's drunken friends, she did not know-the young woman made an attempt to sit back in her seat for the ride back to the Opera. It was of no use, though; oh, God! He had offered her his hand! It was a common practice in the day for a gentleman to assist a lady into a carriage, but she had never willingly touched him before. . .Even through gloved hands, the meeting of their bodies would have meant so much more than mere civility: they would have seen each other as equals-their love could have bloomed into the red rose, as the white rose and the nightingale were mature enough to handle such a relationship. This could only have been if the connection was made, though-that physical notion must have taken place.It did not.So, was that why her heart, wracked in anguish, felt so low-so inadequate? Of course her lover had to intervene-her lover! Raoul!