Valrius, at a disastrous adventure which will remain dangerous so long as we have not unraveled its threads and of which you will certainly end by being the victim, Christine. At these words, Mamma Valrius tossed about in her bed. What does this mean? she cried. Is Christine in danger? Yes, madame, said Raoul courageously, notwithstanding the signs which Christine made to him. My God! exclaimed the good, simple old woman, gasping for breath. You must tell me everything, Christine! Why did you try to reassure me? And what danger is it, M. de Chagny? An impostor is abusing her good faith. Is the Angel of Music an impostor? She told you herself that there is no Angel of Music. But then what is it, in Heavens name? You will be the death of me! There is a terrible mystery around us, madame, around you, around Christine, a mystery much more to be feared than any number of ghosts or genii! Mamma Valrius turned a terrified face to Christine, who had already run to her adopted mother and was holding her in her arms. Dont believe him, mummy, dont believe him, she repeated. Then tell me that you will never leave me again, implored the widow. Christine was silent and Raoul resumed. That is what you must promise, Christine. It is the only thing that can reassure your mother and me. We will undertake not to ask you a single question about the past, if you promise us to remain under our protection in future. That is an undertaking which I have not asked of you and a promise which I refuse to make you! said the young girl haughtily. I am mistress of my own actions, M. de Chagny you have no right to control them, and I will beg you to desist henceforth. As to what I have done during the last fortnight, there is only one man in the world who has the right to demand an account of me my husband! Well, I have no husband and I never mean to marry! She threw out her hands to emphasize her words and Raoul turned pale, not only because of the words which he had heard, but because he had caught sight of a plain gold ring on Christines finger. You have no husband and yet you wear a weddingring. He tried to seize her hand, but she swiftly drew it back. Thats a present! she said, blushing once more and vainly striving to hide her embarrassment. Christine! As you have no husband, that ring can only have been given by one who hopes to make you his wife! Why deceive us further? Why torture me still more? That ring is a promise; and that promise has been accepted! Thats what I said! exclaimed the old lady. And what did she answer, madame? What I chose, said Christine, driven to exasperation. Dont you think, monsieur, that this crossexamination has lasted long enough? As far as I am concerned  Raoul was afraid to let her finish her speech. He interrupted her I beg your pardon for speaking as I did, mademoiselle. You know the good intentions that make me meddle, just now, in matters which, you no doubt think, have nothing to do with me. But allow me to tell you what I have seenand I have seen more than you suspect, Christineor what I thought I saw, for, to tell you the truth, I have sometimes been inclined to doubt the evidence of my eyes. Well, what did you see, sir, or think you saw? I saw your ecstasy at the sound of the voice, Christine the voice that came from the wall or the next room to yours  yes, your ecstasy! And that is what makes me alarmed on your behalf. You are under a very dangerous spell. And yet it seems that you are aware of the imposture, because you say today that there is no Angel of Music! In that case, Christine, why did you follow him that time? Why did you stand up, with radiant features, as though you were really hearing angels?  Ah, it is a very dangerous voice, Christine, for I myself, when I heard it, was so much fascinated by it that you vanished before my eyes without my seeing which way you passed! Christine, Christine, in the name of Heaven, in the name of your father who is in Heaven now and who loved you so dearly and who loved me too, Christine, tell us, tell your benefactress and me, to whom does that voice belong? If you do, we will save you in spite of yourself. Come, Christine, the name of the man! The name of the man who had the audacity to put a ring on your finger! M. de Chagny, the girl declared coldly, you shall never know! Thereupon, seeing the hostility with which her ward had addressed the viscount, Mamma Valrius suddenly took Christines part. And, if she does love that man, monsieur le vicomte, even then it is no business of yours! Alas, madame, Raoul humbly replied, unable to restrain his tears, alas, I believe that Christine really does love him!  But it is not only that which drives me to despair; for what I am not certain of, madame, is that the man whom Christine loves is worthy of her love! It is for me to be the judge of that, monsieur! said Christine, looking Raoul angrily in the face. When a man, continued Raoul, adopts such romantic methods to entice a young girls affections  The man must be either a villain, or the girl a fool is that it? Christine! Raoul, why do you condemn a man whom you have never seen, whom no one knows and about whom you yourself know nothing? Yes, Christine.  Yes.  I at least know the name that you thought to keep from me forever.  The name of your Angel of Music, mademoiselle, is Erik! Christine at once betrayed herself. She turned as white as a sheet and stammered Who told you? You yourself! How do you mean? By pitying him the other night, the night of the masked ball. When you went to your dressingroom, did you not say, Poor Erik? Well, Christine, there was a poor Raoul who overheard you. This is the second time that you have listened behind the door, M. de Chagny! I was not behind the door  I was in the dressingroom, in the inner room, mademoiselle. Oh, unhappy man! moaned the girl, showing every sign of unspeakable terror. Unhappy man! Do you want to be killed? Perhaps. Raoul uttered this perhaps with so much love and despair in his voice that Christine could not keep back a sob. She took his hands and looked at him with all the pure affection of which she was capable Raoul, she said, forget the mans voice and do not even remember its name.  You must never try to fathom the mystery of the mans voice. Is the mystery so very terrible? There is no more awful mystery on this earth. Swear to me that you will make no attempt to find out, she insisted. Swear to me that you will never come to my dressingroom, unless I send for you. Then you promise to send for me sometimes, Christine? I promise. When? Tomorrow. Then I swear to do as you ask. He kissed her hands and went away, cursing Erik and resolving to be patient. XI Above the TrapDoors The next day, he saw her at the Opera. She was still wearing the plain gold ring. She was gentle and kind to him. She talked to him of the plans which he was forming, of his future, of his career. He told her that the date of the Polar expedition had been put forward and that he would leave France in three weeks, or a month at latest. She suggested, almost gaily, that he must look upon the voyage with delight, as a stage toward his coming fame. And when he replied that fame without love was no attraction in his eyes, she treated him as a child whose sorrows were only shortlived. How can you speak so lightly of such serious things? he asked. Perhaps we shall never see each other again! I may die during that expedition. Or I, she said simply. She no longer smiled or jested. She seemed to be thinking of some new thing that had entered her mind for the first time. Her eyes were all aglow with it. What are you thinking of, Christine? I am thinking that we shall not see each other again  And does that make you so radiant? And that, in a month, we shall have to say goodbye forever! Unless, Christine, we pledge our faith and wait for each other forever. She put her hand on his mouth. Hush, Raoul!  You know there is no question of that  And we shall never be married that is understood! She seemed suddenly almost unable to contain an overpowering gaiety. She clapped her hands with childish glee. Raoul stared at her in amazement. But  but, she continued, holding out her two hands to Raoul, or rather giving them to him, as though she had suddenly resolved to make him a present of them, but if we can not be married, we can  we can be engaged! Nobody will know but ourselves, Raoul. There have been plenty of secret marriages why not a secret engagement?  We are engaged, dear, for a month! In a month, you will go away, and I can be happy at the thought of that month all my life long! She was enchanted with her inspiration. Then she became serious again. This, she said, is a happiness that will harm no one. Raoul jumped at the idea. He bowed to Christine and said Mademoiselle, I have the honor to ask for your hand. Why, you have both of them already, my dear betrothed!  Oh, Raoul, how happy we shall be!  We must play at being engaged all day long. It was the prettiest game in the world and they enjoyed it like the children that they were. Oh, the wonderful speeches they made to each other and the eternal vows they exchanged! They played at hearts as other children might play at ball; only, as it was really their two hearts that they flung to and fro, they had to be very, very handy to catch them, each time, without hurting them. One day, about a week after the game began, Raouls heart was badly hurt and he stopped playing and uttered these wild words I shant go to the North Pole! Christine, who, in her innocence, had not dreamed of such a possibility, suddenly discovered the danger of the game and reproached herself bitterly. She did not say a word in reply to Raouls remark and went straight home. This happened in the afternoon, in the singers dressingroom, where they met every day and where they amused themselves by dining on three biscuits, two glasses of port and a bunch of violets. In the evening, she did not sing; and he did not receive his usual letter, though they had arranged to write to each other daily during that month. The next morning, he ran off to Mamma Valrius, who told him that Christine had gone away for two days. She had left at five oclock the day before. Raoul was distracted. He hated Mamma Valrius for giving him such news as that with such stupefying calmness. He tried to sound her, but the old lady obviously knew nothing. Christine returned on the following day. She returned in triumph. She renewed her extraordinary success of the gala performance. Since the adventure of the toad, Carlotta had not been able to appear on the stage. The terror of a fresh coack filled her heart and deprived her of all her power of singing; and the theater that had witnessed her incomprehensible disgrace had become odious to her. She contrived to cancel her contract. Daa was offered the vacant place for the time. She received thunders of applause in the Juive. The viscount, who, of course, was present, was the only one to suffer on hearing the thousand echoes of this fresh triumph; for Christine still wore her plain gold ring. A distant voice whispered in the young mans ear She is wearing the ring again tonight; and you did not give it to her. She gave her soul again tonight and did not give it to you.  If she will not tell you what she has been doing the past two days  you must go and ask Erik! He ran behind the scenes and placed himself in her way. She saw him for her eyes were looking for him. She said Quick! Quick!  Come! And she dragged him to her dressingroom. Raoul at once threw himself on his knees before her. He swore to her that he would go and he entreated her never again to withhold a single hour of the ideal happiness which she had promised him. She let her tears flow. They kissed like a despairing brother and sister who have been smitten with a common loss and who meet to mourn a dead parent. Suddenly, she snatched herself from the young mans soft and timid embrace, seemed to listen to something, and, with a quick gesture, pointed to the door. When he was on the threshold, she said, in so low a voice that the viscount guessed rather than heard her words Tomorrow, my dear betrothed! And be happy, Raoul I sang for you tonight! He returned the next day. But those two days of absence had broken the charm of their delightful makebelieve. They looked at each other, in the dressingroom, with their sad eyes, without exchanging a word. Raoul had to restrain himself not to cry out I am jealous! I am jealous! I am jealous! But she heard him all the same. Then she said Come for a walk, dear. The air will do you good. Raoul thought that she would propose a stroll in the country, far from that building which he detested as a prison whose jailer he could feel walking within the walls  the jailer Erik.  But she took him to the stage and made him sit on the wooden curb of a well, in the doubtful peace and coolness of a first scene set for the evenings performance. On another day, she wandered with him, hand in hand, along the deserted paths of a garden whose creepers had been cut out by a decorators skilful hands. It was as though the real sky, the real flowers, the real earth were forbidden her for all time and she condemned to breathe no other air than that of the theater. An occasional fireman passed, watching over their melancholy idyll from afar. And she would drag him up above the clouds, in the magnificent disorder of the grid, where she loved to make him giddy by running in front of him along the frail bridges, among the thousands of ropes fastened to the pulleys, the windlasses, the rollers, in the midst of a regular forest of yards and masts. If he hesitated, she said, with an adorable pout of her lips You, a sailor! And then they returned to terra firma, that is to say, to some passage that led them to the little girls dancingschool, where brats between six and ten were practising their steps, in the hope of becoming great dancers one day, covered with diamonds.  Meanwhile, Christine gave them sweets instead. She took him to the wardrobe and propertyrooms, took him all over her empire, which was artificial, but immense, covering seventeen stories from the groundfloor to the roof and inhabited by an army of subjects. She moved among them like a popular queen, encouraging them in their labors, sitting down in the workshops, giving words of advice to the workmen whose hands hesitated to cut into the rich stuffs that were to clothe heroes. There were inhabitants of that country who practised every trade. There were cobblers, there were goldsmiths. All had learned to know her and to love her, for she always interested herself in all their troubles and all their little hobbies. She knew unsuspected corners that were secretly occupied by little old couples. She knocked at their door and introduced Raoul to them as a Prince Charming who had asked for her hand; and the two of them, sitting on some wormeaten property, would listen to the legends of the Opera, even as, in their childhood, they had listened to the old Breton tales. Those old people remembered nothing outside the Opera. They had lived there for years without number. Past managements had forgotten them; palace revolutions had taken no notice of them; the history of France had run its course unknown to them; and nobody recollected their existence. The precious days sped in this way; and Raoul and Christine, by affecting excessive interest in outside matters, strove awkwardly to hide from each other the one thought of their hearts. One fact was certain, that Christine, who until then had shown herself the stronger of the two, became suddenly inexpressibly nervous. When on their expeditions, she would start running without reason or else suddenly stop; and her hand, turning icecold in a moment, would hold the young man back. Sometimes her eyes seemed to pursue imaginary shadows. She cried, This way, and This way, and This way, laughing a breathless laugh that often ended in tears. Then Raoul tried to speak, to question her, in spite of his promises. But, even before he had worded his question, she answered feverishly Nothing  I swear it is nothing. Once, when they were passing before an open trapdoor on the stage, Raoul stopped over the dark cavity. You have shown me over the upper part of your empire, Christine, but there are strange stories told of the lower part. Shall we go down? She caught him in her arms, as though she feared to see him disappear down the black hole, and, in a trembling voice, whispered Never!  I will not have you go there!  Besides, its not mine  everything that is underground belongs to him! Raoul looked her in the eyes and said roughly So he lives down there, does he? I never said so.  Who told you a thing like that? Come away! I sometimes wonder if you are quite sane, Raoul.  You always take things in such an impossible way.  Come along! Come! And she literally dragged him away, for he was obstinate and wanted to remain by the trapdoor; that hole attracted him. Suddenly, the trapdoor was closed and so quickly that they did not even see the hand that worked it; and they remained quite dazed. Perhaps he was there, Raoul said, at last. She shrugged her shoulders, but did not seem easy. No, no, it was the trapdoorshutters. They must do something, you know.  They open and shut the trapdoors without any particular reason.  Its like the doorshutters they must spend their time somehow. But suppose it were he, Christine? No, no! He has shut himself up, he is working. Oh, really! Hes working, is he? Yes, he cant open and shut the trapdoors and work at the same time. She shivered. What is he working at? Oh, something terrible!  But its all the better for us.  When hes working at that, he sees nothing; he does not eat, drink, or breathe for days and nights at a time  he becomes a living dead man and has no time to amuse himself with the trapdoors. She shivered again. She was still holding him in her arms. Then she sighed and said, in her turn Suppose it were he! Are you afraid of him? No, no, of course not, she said. For all that, on the next day and the following days, Christine was careful to avoid the trapdoors. Her agitation only increased as the hours passed. At last, one afternoon, she arrived very late, with her face so desperately pale and her eyes so desperately red, that Raoul resolved to go to all lengths, including that which he foreshadowed when he blurted out that he would not go on the North Pole expedition unless she first told him the secret of the mans voice. Hush! Hush, in Heavens name! Suppose he heard you, you unfortunate Raoul! And Christines eyes stared wildly at everything around her. I will remove you from his power, Christine, I swear it. And you shall not think of him any more. Is it possible? She allowed herself this doubt, which was an encouragement, while dragging the young man up to the topmost floor of the theater, far, very far from the trapdoors. I shall hide you in some unknown corner of the world, where he can not come to look for you. You will be safe; and then I shall go away  as you have sworn never to marry. Christine seized Raouls hands and squeezed them with incredible rapture. But, suddenly becoming alarmed again, she turned away her head. Higher! was all she said. Higher still! And she dragged him up toward the summit. He had a difficulty in following her. They were soon under the very roof, in the maze of timberwork. They slipped through the buttresses, the rafters, the joists; they ran from beam to beam as they might have run from tree to tree in a forest. And, despite the care which she took to look behind her at every moment, she failed to see a shadow which followed her like her own shadow, which stopped when she stopped, which started again when she did and which made no more noise than a wellconducted shadow should. As for Raoul, he saw nothing either; for, when he had Christine in front of him, nothing interested him that happened behind. XII Apollos Lyre In this way, they reached the roof. Christine tripped over it as lightly as a swallow. Their eyes swept the empty space between the three domes and the triangular pediment. She breathed freely over Paris, the whole valley of which was seen at work below. She called Raoul to come quite close to her and they walked side by side along the zinc streets, in the leaden avenues; they looked at their twin shapes in the huge tanks, full of stagnant water, where, in the hot weather, the little boys of the ballet, a score or so, learn to swim and dive. The shadow had followed behind them, clinging to their steps; and the two children little suspected its presence when they at last sat down, trustingly, under the mighty protection of Apollo, who, with a great bronze gesture, lifted his huge lyre to the heart of a crimson sky. It was a gorgeous spring evening. Clouds, which had just received their gossamer robe of gold and purple from the setting sun, drifted slowly by; and Christine said to Raoul Soon we shall go farther and faster than the clouds, to the end of the world, and then you will leave me, Raoul. But, if, when the moment comes for you to take me away, I refuse to go with youwell you must carry me off by force! Are you afraid that you will change your mind, Christine? I dont know, she said, shaking her head in an odd fashion. He is a demon! And she shivered and nestled in his arms with a moan. I am afraid now of going back to live with him  in the ground! What compels you to go back, Christine? If I do not go back to him, terrible misfortunes may happen!  But I cant do it, I cant do it!  I know one ought to be sorry for people who live underground.  But he is too horrible! And yet the time is at hand; I have only a day left; and, if I do not go, he will come and fetch me with his voice. And he will drag me with him, underground, and go on his knees before me, with his deaths head. And he will tell me that he loves me! And he will cry! Oh, those tears, Raoul, those tears in the two black eyesockets of the deaths head! I can not see those tears flow again! She wrung her hands in anguish, while Raoul pressed her to his heart. No, no, you shall never again hear him tell you that he loves you! You shall not see his tears! Let us fly, Christine, let us fly at once! And he tried to drag her away, then and there. But she stopped him. No, no, she said, shaking her head sadly. Not now!  It would be too cruel  let him hear me sing tomorrow evening  and then we will go away. You must come and fetch me in my dressingroom at midnight exactly. He will then be waiting for me in the diningroom by the lake  we shall be free and you shall take me away.  You must promise me that, Raoul, even if I refuse; for I feel that, if I go back this time, I shall perhaps never return. And she gave a sigh to which it seemed to her that another sigh, behind her, replied. Didnt you hear? Her teeth chattered. No, said Raoul, I heard nothing. It is too terrible, she confessed, to be always trembling like this!  And yet we run no danger here; we are at home, in the sky, in the open air, in the light. The sun is flaming; and nightbirds can not bear to look at the sun. I have never seen him by daylight  it must be awful!  Oh, the first time I saw him!  I thought that he was going to die. Why? asked Raoul, really frightened at the aspect which this strange confidence was taking. Because I had seen him! This time, Raoul and Christine turned round at the same time There is someone in pain, said Raoul. Perhaps someone has been hurt. Did you hear? I cant say, Christine confessed. Even when he is not there, my ears are full of his sighs. Still, if you heard  They stood up and looked around them. They were quite alone on the immense lead roof. They sat down again and Raoul said Tell me how you saw him first. I had heard him for three months without seeing him. The first time I heard it, I thought, as you did, that that adorable voice was singing in another room. I went out and looked everywhere; but, as you know, Raoul, my dressingroom is very much by itself; and I could not find the voice outside my room, whereas it went on steadily inside. And it not only sang, but it spoke to me and answered my questions, like a real mans voice, with this difference, that it was as beautiful as the voice of an angel. I had never got the Angel of Music whom my poor father had promised to send me as soon as he was dead. I really think that Mamma Valrius was a little bit to blame. I told her about it; and she at once said, It must be the Angel; at any rate, you can do no harm by asking him. I did so; and the mans voice replied that, yes, it was the Angels voice, the voice which I was expecting and which my father had promised me. From that time onward, the voice and I became great friends. It asked leave to give me lessons every day. I agreed and never failed to keep the appointment which it gave me in my dressingroom. You have no idea, though you have heard the voice, of what those lessons were like. No, I have no idea, said Raoul. What was your accompaniment? We were accompanied by a music which I do not know it was behind the wall and wonderfully accurate. The voice seemed to understand mine exactly, to know precisely where my father had left off teaching me. In a few weeks time, I hardly knew myself when I sang. I was even frightened. I seemed to dread a sort of witchcraft behind it; but Mamma Valrius reassured me. She said that she knew I was much too simple a girl to give the devil a hold on me.  My progress, by the voices own order, was kept a secret between the voice, Mamma Valrius and myself. It was a curious thing, but, outside the dressingroom, I sang with my ordinary, everyday voice and nobody noticed anything. I did all that the voice asked. It said, Wait and see we shall astonish Paris! And I waited and lived on in a sort of ecstatic dream. It was then that I saw you for the first time one evening, in the house. I was so glad that I never thought of concealing my delight when I reached my dressingroom. Unfortunately, the voice was there before me and soon noticed, by my air, that something had happened. It asked what was the matter and I saw no reason for keeping our story secret or concealing the place which you filled in my heart. Then the voice was silent. I called to it, but it did not reply; I begged and entreated, but in vain. I was terrified lest it had gone for good. I wish to Heaven it had, dear!  That night, I went home in a desperate condition. I told Mamma Valrius, who said, Why, of course, the voice is jealous! And that, dear, first revealed to me that I loved you. Christine stopped and laid her head on Raouls shoulder. They sat like that for a moment, in silence, and they did not see, did not perceive the movement, at a few steps from them, of the creeping shadow of two great black wings, a shadow that came along the roof so near, so near them that it could have stifled them by closing over them. The next day, Christine continued, with a sigh, I went back to my dressingroom in a very pensive frame of mind. The voice was there, spoke to me with great sadness and told me plainly that, if I must bestow my heart on earth, there was nothing for the voice to do but to go back to Heaven. And it said this with such an accent of human sorrow that I ought then and there to have suspected and begun to believe that I was the victim of my deluded senses. But my faith in the voice, with which the memory of my father was so closely intermingled, remained undisturbed. I feared nothing so much as that I might never hear it again; I had thought about my love for you and realized all the useless danger of it; and I did not even know if you remembered me. Whatever happened, your position in society forbade me to contemplate the possibility of ever marrying you; and I swore to the voice that you were no more than a brother to me nor ever would be and that my heart was incapable of any earthly love. And that, dear, was why I refused to recognize or see you when I met you on the stage or in the passages. Meanwhile, the hours during which the voice taught me were spent in a divine frenzy, until, at last, the voice said to me, You can now, Christine Daa, give to men a little of the music of Heaven. I dont know how it was that Carlotta did not come to the theater that night nor why I was called upon to sing in her stead; but I sang with a rapture I had never known before and I felt for a moment as if my soul were leaving my body! Oh, Christine, said Raoul, my heart quivered that night at every accent of your voice. I saw the tears stream down your cheeks and I wept with you. How could you sing, sing like that while crying? I felt myself fainting, said Christine, I closed my eyes. When I opened them, you were by my side. But the voice was there also, Raoul! I was afraid for your sake and again I would not recognize you and began to laugh when you reminded me that you had picked up my scarf in the sea!  Alas, there is no deceiving the voice!  The voice recognized you and the voice was jealous!  It said that, if I did not love you, I would not avoid you, but treat you like any other old friend. It made me scene upon scene. At last, I said to the voice, That will do! I am going to Perros tomorrow, to pray on my fathers grave, and I shall ask M. Raoul de Chagny to go with me. Do as you please, replied the voice, but I shall be at Perros too, for I am wherever you are, Christine; and, if you are still worthy of me, if you have not lied to me, I will play you The Resurrection of Lazarus, on the stroke of midnight, on your fathers tomb and on your fathers violin. That, dear, was how I came to write you the letter that brought you to Perros. How could I have been so beguiled? How was it, when I saw the personal, the selfish point of view of the voice, that I did not suspect some impostor? Alas, I was no longer mistress of myself I had become his thing! But, after all, cried Raoul, you soon came to know the truth! Why did you not at once rid yourself of that abominable nightmare? Know the truth, Raoul? Rid myself of that nightmare? But, my poor boy, I was not caught in the nightmare until the day when I learned the truth!  Pity me, Raoul, pity me!  You remember the terrible evening when Carlotta thought that she had been turned into a toad on the stage and when the house was suddenly plunged in darkness through the chandelier crashing to the floor? There were killed and wounded that night and the whole theater rang with terrified screams. My first thought was for you and the voice. I was at once easy, where you were concerned, for I had seen you in your brothers box and I knew that you were not in danger. But the voice had told me that it would be at the performance and I was really afraid for it, just as if it had been an ordinary person who was capable of dying. I thought to myself, The chandelier may have come down upon the voice. I was then on the stage and was nearly running into the house, to look for the voice among the killed and wounded, when I thought that, if the voice was safe, it would be sure to be in my dressingroom and I rushed to my room. The voice was not there. I locked my door and, with tears in my eyes, besought it, if it were still alive, to manifest itself to me. The voice did not reply, but suddenly I heard a long, beautiful wail which I knew well. It is the plaint of Lazarus when, at the sound of the Redeemers voice, he begins to open his eyes and see the light of day. It was the music which you and I, Raoul, heard at Perros. And then the voice began to sing the leading phrase, Come! And believe in me! Whoso believes in me shall live! Walk! Whoso hath believed in me shall never die!  I can not tell you the effect which that music had upon me. It seemed to command me, personally, to come, to stand up and come to it. It retreated and I followed.


Come! And believe in me! I believed in it, I came.  I came andthis was the extraordinary thingmy dressingroom, as I moved, seemed to lengthen out  to lengthen out.  Evidently, it must have been an effect of mirrors  for I had the mirror in front of me  And, suddenly, I was outside the room without knowing how! What! Without knowing how? Christine, Christine, you must really stop dreaming! I was not dreaming, dear, I was outside my room without knowing how. You, who saw me disappear from my room one evening, may be able to explain it; but I can not. I can only tell you that, suddenly, there was no mirror before me and no dressingroom. I was in a dark passage, I was frightened and I cried out. It was quite dark, but for a faint red glimmer at a distant corner of the wall. I cried out. My voice was the only sound, for the singing and the violin had stopped. And, suddenly, a hand was laid on mine  or rather a stonecold, bony thing that seized my wrist and did not let go. I cried out again. An arm took me round the waist and supported me. I struggled for a little while and then gave up the attempt. I was dragged toward the little red light and then I saw that I was in the hands of a man wrapped in a large cloak and wearing a mask that hid his whole face. I made one last effort; my limbs stiffened, my mouth opened to scream, but a hand closed it, a hand which I felt on my lips, on my skin  a hand that smelt of death. Then I fainted away. When I opened my eyes, we were still surrounded by darkness. A lantern, standing on the ground, showed a bubbling well. The water splashing from the well disappeared, almost at once, under the floor on which I was lying, with my head on the knee of the man in the black cloak and the black mask. He was bathing my temples and his hands smelt of death. I tried to push them away and asked, Who are you? Where is the voice? His only answer was a sigh. Suddenly, a hot breath passed over my face and I perceived a white shape, beside the mans black shape, in the darkness. The black shape lifted me on to the white shape, a glad neighing greeted my astounded ears and I murmured, Csar! The animal quivered. Raoul, I was lying half back on a saddle and I had recognized the white horse out of the Profeta, which I had so often fed with sugar and sweets. I remembered that, one evening, there was a rumor in the theater that the horse had disappeared and that it had been stolen by the Opera ghost. I believed in the voice, but had never believed in the ghost. Now, however, I began to wonder, with a shiver, whether I was the ghosts prisoner. I called upon the voice to help me, for I should never have imagined that the voice and the ghost were one. You have heard about the Opera ghost, have you not, Raoul? Yes, but tell me what happened when you were on the white horse of the Profeta? I made no movement and let myself go. The black shape held me up, and I made no effort to escape. A curious feeling of peacefulness came over me and I thought that I must be under the influence of some cordial. I had the full command of my senses; and my eyes became used to the darkness, which was lit, here and there, by fitful gleams. I calculated that we were in a narrow circular gallery, probably running all round the Opera, which is immense, underground. I had once been down into those cellars, but had stopped at the third floor, though there were two lower still, large enough to hold a town. But the figures of which I caught sight had made me run away. There are demons down there, quite black, standing in front of boilers, and they wield shovels and pitchforks and poke up fires and stir up flames and, if you come too near them, they frighten you by suddenly opening the red mouths of their furnaces.  Well, while Csar was quietly carrying me on his back, I saw those black demons in the distance, looking quite small, in front of the red fires of their furnaces they came into sight, disappeared and came into sight again, as we went on our winding way. At last, they disappeared altogether. The shape was still holding me up and Csar walked on, unled and surefooted. I could not tell you, even approximately, how long this ride lasted; I only know that we seemed to turn and turn and often went down a spiral stair into the very heart of the earth. Even then, it may be that my head was turning, but I dont think so no, my mind was quite clear. At last, Csar raised his nostrils, sniffed the air and quickened his pace a little. I felt a moistness in the air and Csar stopped. The darkness had lifted. A sort of bluey light surrounded us. We were on the edge of a lake, whose leaden waters stretched into the distance, into the darkness; but the blue light lit up the bank and I saw a little boat fastened to an iron ring on the wharf! A boat! Yes, but I knew that all that existed and that there was nothing supernatural about that underground lake and boat. But think of the exceptional conditions in which I arrived upon that shore! I dont know whether the effects of the cordial had worn off when the mans shape lifted me into the boat, but my terror began all over again. My gruesome escort must have noticed it, for he sent Csar back and I heard his hoofs trampling up a staircase while the man jumped into the boat, untied the rope that held it and seized the oars. He rowed with a quick, powerful stroke; and his eyes, under the mask, never left me. We slipped across the noiseless water in the bluey light which I told you of; then we were in the dark again and we touched shore. And I was once more taken up in the mans arms. I cried aloud. And then, suddenly, I was silent, dazed by the light.  Yes, a dazzling light in the midst of which I had been put down. I sprang to my feet. I was in the middle of a drawingroom that seemed to me to be decorated, adorned and furnished with nothing but flowers, flowers both magnificent and stupid, because of the silk ribbons that tied them to baskets, like those which they sell in the shops on the boulevards. They were much too civilized flowers, like those which I used to find in my dressingroom after a first night. And, in the midst of all these flowers, stood the black shape of the man in the mask, with arms crossed, and he said, Dont be afraid, Christine; you are in no danger. It was the voice! My anger equaled my amazement. I rushed at the mask and tried to snatch it away, so as to see the face of the voice. The man said, You are in no danger, so long as you do not touch the mask. And, taking me gently by the wrists, he forced me into a chair and then went down on his knees before me and said nothing more! His humility gave me back some of my courage; and the light restored me to the realities of life. However extraordinary the adventure might be, I was now surrounded by mortal, visible, tangible things. The furniture, the hangings, the candles, the vases and the very flowers in their baskets, of which I could almost have told whence they came and what they cost, were bound to confine my imagination to the limits of a drawingroom quite as commonplace as any that, at least, had the excuse of not being in the cellars of the Opera. I had, no doubt, to do with a terrible, eccentric person, who, in some mysterious fashion, had succeeded in taking up his abode there, under the Opera house, five stories below the level of the ground. And the voice, the voice which I had recognized under the mask, was on its knees before me, was a man! And I began to cry.  The man, still kneeling, must have understood the cause of my tears, for he said, It is true, Christine!  I am not an Angel, nor a genius, nor a ghost  I am Erik!  Christines narrative was again interrupted. An echo behind them seemed to repeat the word after her. Erik! What echo?  They both turned round and saw that night had fallen. Raoul made a movement as though to rise, but Christine kept him beside her. Dont go, she said. I want you to know everything here! But why here, Christine? I am afraid of your catching cold. We have nothing to fear except the trapdoors, dear, and here we are miles away from the trapdoors  and I am not allowed to see you outside the theater. This is not the time to annoy him. We must not arouse his suspicion. Christine! Christine! Something tells me that we are wrong to wait till tomorrow evening and that we ought to fly at once. I tell you that, if he does not hear me sing tomorrow, it will cause him infinite pain. It is difficult not to cause him pain and yet to escape from him for good. You are right in that, Raoul, for certainly he will die of my flight. And she added in a dull voice, But then it counts both ways  for we risk his killing us. Does he love you so much? He would commit murder for me. But one can find out where he lives. One can go in search of him. Now that we know that Erik is not a ghost, one can speak to him and force him to answer! Christine shook her head. No, no! There is nothing to be done with Erik  except to run away! Then why, when you were able to run away, did you go back to him? Because I had to. And you will understand that when I tell you how I left him. Oh, I hate him! cried Raoul. And you, Christine, tell me, do you hate him too? No, said Christine simply. No, of course not.  Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves, said Raoul bitterly. The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it.  Picture it a man who lives in a palace underground! And he gave a leer. Then you want me to go back there? said the young girl cruelly. Take care, Raoul; I have told you I should never return! There was an appalling silence between the three of them the two who spoke and the shadow that listened, behind them. Before answering that, said Raoul, at last, speaking very slowly, I should like to know with what feeling he inspires you, since you do not hate him. With horror! she said. That is the terrible thing about it. He fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think of Erik at my feet, in the house on the lake, underground. He accuses himself, he curses himself, he implores my forgiveness!  He confesses his cheat. He loves me! He lays at my feet an immense and tragic love.  He has carried me off for love!  He has imprisoned me with him, underground, for love!  But he respects me he crawls, he moans, he weeps!  And, when I stood up, Raoul, and told him that I could only despise him if he did not, then and there, give me my liberty  he offered it  he offered to show me the mysterious road  Only  only he rose too  and I was made to remember that, though he was not an angel, nor a ghost, nor a genius, he remained the voice  for he sang. And I listened  and stayed!  That night, we did not exchange another word. He sang me to sleep. When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp standing on the marble top of an old LouisPhilippe chest of drawers. I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from my room led to a very comfortable bathroom. On returning to the bedroom, I saw on the chest of drawers a note, in red ink, which said, My dear Christine, you need have no concern as to your fate. You have no better nor more respectful friend in the world than myself. You are alone, at present, in this home which is yours. I am going out shopping to fetch you all the things that you can need. I felt sure that I had fallen into the hands of a madman. I ran round my little apartment, looking for a way of escape which I could not find. I upbraided myself for my absurd superstition, which had caused me to fall into the trap. I felt inclined to laugh and to cry at the same time. This was the state of mind in which Erik found me. After giving three taps on the wall, he walked in quietly through a door which I had not noticed and which he left open. He had his arms full of boxes and parcels and arranged them on the bed, in a leisurely fashion, while I overwhelmed him with abuse and called upon him to take off his mask, if it covered the face of an honest man. He replied serenely, You shall never see Eriks face. And he reproached me with not having finished dressing at that time of day he was good enough to tell me that it was two oclock in the afternoon. He said he would give me half an hour and, while he spoke, wound up my watch and set it for me. After which, he asked me to come to the diningroom, where a nice lunch was waiting for us. I was very angry, slammed the door in his face and went to the bathroom.  When I came out again, feeling greatly refreshed, Erik said that he loved me, but that he would never tell me so except when I allowed him and that the rest of the time would be devoted to music. What do you mean by the rest of the time? I asked. Five days, he said, with decision. I asked him if I should then be free and he said, You will be free, Christine, for, when those five days are past, you will have learned not to see me; and then, from time to time, you will come to see your poor Erik! He pointed to a chair opposite him, at a small table, and I sat down, feeling greatly perturbed. However, I ate a few prawns and the wing of a chicken and drank half a glass of tokay, which he had himself, he told me, brought from the Knigsberg cellars. Erik did not eat or drink. I asked him what his nationality was and if that name of Erik did not point to his Scandinavian origin. He said that he had no name and no country and that he had taken the name of Erik by accident. After lunch, he rose and gave me the tips of his fingers, saying he would like to show me over his flat; but I snatched away my hand and gave a cry. What I had touched was cold and, at the same time, bony; and I remembered that his hands smelt of death. Oh, forgive me! he moaned. And he opened a door before me. This is my bedroom, if you care to see it. It is rather curious. His manners, his words, his attitude gave me confidence and I went in without hesitation. I felt as if I were entering the room of a dead person. The walls were all hung with black, but, instead of the white trimmings that usually set off that funereal upholstery, there was an enormous stave of music with the notes of the Dies Irae, many times repeated. In the middle of the room was a canopy, from which hung curtains of red brocaded stuff, and, under the canopy, an open coffin. That is where I sleep, said Erik. One has to get used to everything in life, even to eternity. The sight upset me so much that I turned away my head. Then I saw the keyboard of an organ which filled one whole side of the walls. On the desk was a musicbook covered with red notes. I asked leave to look at it and read, Don Juan Triumphant. Yes, he said, I compose sometimes. I began that work twenty years ago. When I have finished, I shall take it away with me in that coffin and never wake up again. You must work at it as seldom as you can, I said. He replied, I sometimes work at it for fourteen days and nights together, during which I live on music only, and then I rest for years at a time. Will you play me something out of your Don Juan Triumphant? I asked, thinking to please him. You must never ask me that, he said, in a gloomy voice. I will play you Mozart, if you like, which will only make you weep; but my Don Juan, Christine, burns; and yet he is not struck by fire from Heaven. Thereupon we returned to the drawingroom. I noticed that there was no mirror in the whole apartment. I was going to remark upon this, but Erik had already sat down to the piano. He said, You see, Christine, there is some music that is so terrible that it consumes all those who approach it. Fortunately, you have not come to that music yet, for you would lose all your pretty coloring and nobody would know you when you returned to Paris. Let us sing something from the Opera, Christine Daa. He spoke these last words as though he were flinging an insult at me. What did you do? I had no time to think about the meaning he put into his words. We at once began the duet in Othello and already the catastrophe was upon us. I sang Desdemona with a despair, a terror which I had never displayed before. As for him, his voice thundered forth his revengeful soul at every note. Love, jealousy, hatred, burst out around us in harrowing cries. Eriks black mask made me think of the natural mask of the Moor of Venice. He was Othello himself. Suddenly, I felt a need to see beneath the mask. I wanted to know the face of the voice, and, with a movement which I was utterly unable to control, swiftly my fingers tore away the mask. Oh, horror, horror, horror! Christine stopped, at the thought of the vision that had scared her, while the echoes of the night, which had repeated the name of Erik, now thrice moaned the cry Horror!  Horror!  Horror! Raoul and Christine, clasping each other closely, raised their eyes to the stars that shone in a clear and peaceful sky. Raoul said Strange, Christine, that this calm, soft night should be so full of plaintive sounds. One would think that it was sorrowing with us. When you know the secret, Raoul, your ears, like mine, will be full of lamentations. She took Raouls protecting hands in hers and, with a long shiver, continued Yes, if I lived to be a hundred, I should always hear the superhuman cry of grief and rage which he uttered when the terrible sight appeared before my eyes.  Raoul, you have seen deaths heads, when they have been dried and withered by the centuries, and, perhaps, if you were not the victim of a nightmare, you saw his deaths head at Perros. And then you saw Red Death stalking about at the last masked ball. But all those deaths heads were motionless and their dumb horror was not alive. But imagine, if you can, Red Deaths mask suddenly coming to life in order to express, with the four black holes of its eyes, its nose, and its mouth, the extreme anger, the mighty fury of a demon; and not a ray of light from the sockets, for, as I learned later, you can not see his blazing eyes except in the dark. I fell back against the wall and he came up to me, grinding his teeth, and, as I fell upon my knees, he hissed mad, incoherent words and curses at me. Leaning over me, he cried, Look! You want to see! See! Feast your eyes, glut your soul on my cursed ugliness! Look at Eriks face! Now you know the face of the voice! You were not content to hear me, eh? You wanted to know what I looked like! Oh, you women are so inquisitive! Well, are you satisfied? Im a very goodlooking fellow, eh?  When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me forever. I am a kind of Don Juan, you know! And, drawing himself up to his full height, with his hand on his hip, wagging the hideous thing that was his head on his shoulders, he roared, Look at me! I am Don Juan triumphant! And, when I turned away my head and begged for mercy, he drew it to him, brutally, twisting his dead fingers into my hair. Enough! Enough! cried Raoul. I will kill him. In Heavens name, Christine, tell me where the diningroom on the lake is! I must kill him! Oh, be quiet, Raoul, if you want to know! Yes, I want to know how and why you went back; I must know!  But, in any case, I will kill him! Oh, Raoul, listen, listen!  He dragged me by my hair and then  and then  Oh, it is too horrible! Well, what? Out with it! exclaimed Raoul fiercely. Out with it, quick! Then he hissed at me. Ah, I frighten you, do I?  I dare say!  Perhaps you think that I have another mask, eh, and that this  this  my head is a mask? Well, he roared, tear it off as you did the other! Come! Come along! I insist! Your hands! Your hands! Give me your hands! And he seized my hands and dug them into his awful face. He tore his flesh with my nails, tore his terrible dead flesh with my nails!  Know, he shouted, while his throat throbbed and panted like a furnace, know that I am built up of death from head to foot and that it is a corpse that loves you and adores you and will never, never leave you!  Look, I am not laughing now, I am crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again!  As long as you thought me handsome, you could have come back, I know you would have come back  but, now that you know my hideousness, you would run away for good.  So I shall keep you here!  Why did you want to see me? Oh, mad Christine, who wanted to see me!  When my own father never saw me and when my mother, so as not to see me, made me a present of my first mask! He had let go of me at last and was dragging himself about on the floor, uttering terrible sobs. And then he crawled away like a snake, went into his room, closed the door and left me alone to my reflections. Presently I heard the sound of the organ; and then I began to understand Eriks contemptuous phrase when he spoke about Opera music. What I now heard was utterly different from what I had heard up to then. His Don Juan Triumphant (for I had not a doubt but that he had rushed to his masterpiece to forget the horror of the moment) seemed to me at first one long, awful, magnificent sob. But, little by little, it expressed every emotion, every suffering of which mankind is capable. It intoxicated me; and I opened the door that separated us. Erik rose, as I entered, but dared not turn in my direction. Erik, I cried, show me your face without fear! I swear that you are the most unhappy and sublime of men; and, if ever again I shiver when I look at you, it will be because I am thinking of the splendor of your genius! Then Erik turned round, for he believed me, and I also had faith in myself. He fell at my feet, with words of love  with words of love in his dead mouth  and the music had ceased  He kissed the hem of my dress and did not see that I closed my eyes. What more can I tell you, dear? You now know the tragedy. It went on for a fortnighta fortnight during which I lied to him. My lies were as hideous as the monster who inspired them; but they were the price of my liberty. I burned his mask; and I managed so well that, even when he was not singing, he tried to catch my eye, like a dog sitting by its master. He was my faithful slave and paid me endless little attentions. Gradually, I gave him such confidence that he ventured to take me walking on the banks of the lake and to row me in the boat on its leaden waters; toward the end of my captivity he let me out through the gates that closed the underground passages in the Rue Scribe. Here a carriage awaited us and took us to the Bois. The night when we met you was nearly fatal to me, for he is terribly jealous of you and I had to tell him that you were soon going away.  Then, at last, after a fortnight of that horrible captivity, during which I was filled with pity, enthusiasm, despair and horror by turns, he believed me when I said, I will come back!  And you went back, Christine, groaned Raoul. Yes, dear, and I must tell you that it was not his frightful threats when setting me free that helped me to keep my word, but the harrowing sob which he gave on the threshold of the tomb.  That sob attached me to the unfortunate man more than I myself suspected when saying goodbye to him. Poor Erik! Poor Erik! Christine, said Raoul, rising, you tell me that you love me; but you had recovered your liberty hardly a few hours before you returned to Erik! Remember the masked ball! Yes; and do you remember those hours which I passed with you, Raoul  to the great danger of both of us? I doubted your love for me, during those hours. Do you doubt it still, Raoul?  Then know that each of my visits to Erik increased my horror of him; for each of those visits, instead of calming him, as I hoped, made him mad with love!  And I am so frightened, so frightened!  You are frightened  but do you love me? If Erik were goodlooking, would you love me, Christine? She rose in her turn, put her two trembling arms round the young mans neck and said Oh, my betrothed of a day, if I did not love you, I would not give you my lips! Take them, for the first time and the last. He kissed her lips; but the night that surrounded them was rent asunder, they fled as at the approach of a storm and their eyes, filled with dread of Erik, showed them, before they disappeared, high up above them, an immense nightbird that stared at them with its blazing eyes and seemed to cling to the string of Apollos lyre. XIII A Masterstroke of the TrapDoor Lover Raoul and Christine ran, eager to escape from the roof and the blazing eyes that showed only in the dark; and they did not stop before they came to the eighth floor on the way down. There was no performance at the Opera that night and the passages were empty. Suddenly, a queerlooking form stood before them and blocked the road No, not this way! And the form pointed to another passage by which they were to reach the wings. Raoul wanted to stop and ask for an explanation. But the form, which wore a sort of long frockcoat and a pointed cap, said Quick! Go away quickly! Christine was already dragging Raoul, compelling him to start running again. But who is he? Who is that man? he asked. Christine replied Its the Persian. Whats he doing here? Nobody knows. He is always in the Opera. You are making me run away, for the first time in my life. If we really saw Erik, what I ought to have done was to nail him to Apollos lyre, just as we nail the owls to the walls of our Breton farms; and there would have been no more question of him. My dear Raoul, you would first have had to climb up to Apollos lyre that is no easy matter. The blazing eyes were there! Oh, you are getting like me now, seeing him everywhere! What I took for blazing eyes was probably a couple of stars shining through the strings of the lyre. And Christine went down another floor, with Raoul following her. As you have quite made up your mind to go, Christine, I assure you it would be better to go at once. Why wait for tomorrow? He may have heard us tonight. No, no, he is working, I tell you, at his Don Juan Triumphant and not thinking of us. Youre so sure of that you keep on looking behind you! Come to my dressingroom. Hadnt we better meet outside the Opera? Never, till we go away for good! It would bring us bad luck, if I did not keep my word. I promised him to see you only here. Its a good thing for me that he allowed you even that. Do you know, said Raoul bitterly, that it was very plucky of you to let us play at being engaged? Why, my dear, he knows all about it! He said, I trust you, Christine. M. de Chagny is in love with you and is going abroad. Before he goes, I want him to be as happy as I am. Are people so unhappy when they love? Yes, Christine, when they love and are not sure of being loved. They came to Christines dressingroom. Why do you think that you are safer in this room than on the stage? asked Raoul. You heard him through the walls here, therefore he can certainly hear us. No. He gave me his word not to be behind the walls of my dressingroom again and I believe Eriks word. This room and my bedroom on the lake are for me, exclusively, and not to be approached by him. How can you have gone from this room into that dark passage, Christine? Suppose we try to repeat your movements; shall we? It is dangerous, dear, for the glass might carry me off again; and, instead of running away, I should be obliged to go to the end of the secret passage to the lake and there call Erik. Would he hear you? Erik will hear me wherever I call him. He told me so. He is a very curious genius. You must not think, Raoul, that he is simply a man who amuses himself by living underground. He does things that no other man could do; he knows things which nobody in the world knows. Take care, Christine, you are making a ghost of him again! No, he is not a ghost; he is a man of Heaven and earth, that is all. A man of Heaven and earth  that is all! A nice way to speak of him!  And are you still resolved to run away from him? Yes, tomorrow. Tomorrow, you will have no resolve left! Then, Raoul, you must run away with me in spite of myself; is that understood? I shall be here at twelve tomorrow night; I shall keep my promise, whatever happens. You say that, after listening to the performance, he is to wait for you in the diningroom on the lake? Yes. And how are you to reach him, if you dont know how to go out by the glass? Why, by going straight to the edge of the lake. Christine opened a box, took out an enormous key and showed it to Raoul. Whats that? he asked. The key of the gate to the underground passage in the Rue Scribe. I understand, Christine. It leads straight to the lake. Give it to me, Christine, will you? Never! she said. That would be treacherous! Suddenly Christine changed color. A mortal pallor overspread her features. Oh heavens! she cried. Erik! Erik! Have pity on me! Hold your tongue! said Raoul. You told me he could hear you! But the singers attitude became more and more inexplicable. She wrung her fingers, repeating, with a distraught air Oh, Heaven! Oh, Heaven! But what is it? What is it? Raoul implored. The ring  the gold ring he gave me. Oh, so Erik gave you that ring! You know he did, Raoul! But what you dont know is that, when he gave it to me, he said, I give you back your liberty, Christine, on condition that this ring is always on your finger. As long as you keep it, you will be protected against all danger and Erik will remain your friend. But woe to you if you ever part with it, for Erik will have his revenge!  My dear, my dear, the ring is gone!  Woe to us both! They both looked for the ring, but could not find it. Christine refused to be pacified. It was while I gave you that kiss, up above, under Apollos lyre, she said. The ring must have slipped from my finger and dropped into the street! We can never find it. And what misfortunes are in store for us now! Oh, to run away! Let us run away at once, Raoul insisted, once more. She hesitated. He thought that she was going to say yes.  Then her bright pupils became dimmed and she said No! Tomorrow! And she left him hurriedly, still wringing and rubbing her fingers, as though she hoped to bring the ring back like that. Raoul went home, greatly perturbed at all that he had heard. If I dont save her from the hands of that humbug, he said, aloud, as he went to bed, she is lost. But I shall save her. He put out his lamp and felt a need to insult Erik in the dark. Thrice over, he shouted Humbug!  Humbug!  Humbug! But, suddenly, he raised himself on his elbow. A cold sweat poured from his temples. Two eyes, like blazing coals, had appeared at the foot of his bed. They stared at him fixedly, terribly, in the darkness of the night. Raoul was no coward; and yet he trembled. He put out a groping, hesitating hand toward the table by his bedside. He found the matches and lit his candle. The eyes disappeared. Still uneasy in his mind, he thought to himself She told me that his eyes only showed in the dark. His eyes have disappeared in the light, but he may be there still. And he rose, hunted about, went round the room. He looked under his bed, like a child. Then he thought himself absurd, got into bed again and blew out the candle. The eyes reappeared. He sat up and stared back at them with all the courage he possessed. Then he cried Is that you, Erik? Man, genius, or ghost, is it you? He reflected If its he, hes on the balcony! Then he ran to the chest of drawers and groped for his revolver. He opened the balcony window, looked out, saw nothing and closed the window again. He went back to bed, shivering, for the night was cold, and put the revolver on the table within his reach. The eyes were still there, at the foot of the bed. Were they between the bed and the windowpane or behind the pane, that is to say, on the balcony? That was what Raoul wanted to know.


He also wanted to know if those eyes belonged to a human being.  He wanted to know everything. Then, patiently, calmly, he seized his revolver and took aim. He aimed a little above the two eyes. Surely, if they were eyes and if above those two eyes there was a forehead and if Raoul was not too clumsy  The shot made a terrible din amid the silence of the slumbering house. And, while footsteps came hurrying along the passages, Raoul sat up with outstretched arm, ready to fire again, if need be. This time, the two eyes had disappeared. Servants appeared, carrying lights; Count Philippe, terribly anxious What is it? I think I have been dreaming, replied the young man. I fired at two stars that kept me from sleeping. Youre raving! Are you ill? For Gods sake, tell me, Raoul what happened? And the count seized hold of the revolver. No, no, Im not raving.  Besides, we shall soon see  He got out of bed, put on a dressinggown and slippers, took a light from the hands of a servant and, opening the window, stepped out on the balcony. The count saw that the window had been pierced by a bullet at a mans height. Raoul was leaning over the balcony with his candle Aha! he said. Blood!  Blood!  Here, there, more blood!  Thats a good thing! A ghost who bleeds is less dangerous! he grinned. Raoul! Raoul! Raoul! The count was shaking him as though he were trying to waken a sleepwalker. But, my dear brother, Im not asleep! Raoul protested impatiently. You can see the blood for yourself. I thought I had been dreaming and firing at two stars. It was Eriks eyes  and here is his blood!  After all, perhaps I was wrong to shoot; and Christine is quite capable of never forgiving me.  All this would not have happened if I had drawn the curtains before going to bed. Raoul, have you suddenly gone mad? Wake up! What, still? You would do better to help me find Erik  for, after all, a ghost who bleeds can always be found. The counts valet said That is so, sir; there is blood on the balcony. The other manservant brought a lamp, by the light of which they examined the balcony carefully. The marks of blood followed the rail till they reached a gutterspout; then they went up the gutterspout. My dear fellow, said Count Philippe, you have fired at a cat. The misfortune is, said Raoul, with a grin, that its quite possible. With Erik, you never know. Is it Erik? Is it the cat? Is it the ghost? No, with Erik, you cant tell! Raoul went on making this strange sort of remarks which corresponded so intimately and logically with the preoccupation of his brain and which, at the same time, tended to persuade many people that his mind was unhinged. The count himself was seized with this idea; and, later, the examining magistrate, on receiving the report of the commissary of police, came to the same conclusion. Who is Erik? asked the count, pressing his brothers hand. He is my rival. And, if hes not dead, its a pity. He dismissed the servants with a wave of the hand and the two Chagnys were left alone. But the men were not out of earshot before the counts valet heard Raoul say, distinctly and emphatically I shall carry off Christine Daa tonight. This phrase was afterward repeated to M. Faure, the examiningmagistrate. But no one ever knew exactly what passed between the two brothers at this interview. The servants declared that this was not their first quarrel. Their voices penetrated the wall; and it was always an actress called Christine Daa that was in question. At breakfastthe early morning breakfast, which the count took in his studyPhilippe sent for his brother. Raoul arrived silent and gloomy. The scene was a very short one. Philippe handed his brother a copy of the Epoque and said Read that! The viscount read The latest news in the Faubourg is that there is a promise of marriage between Mlle. Christine Daa, the operasinger, and M. le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. If the gossips are to be credited, Count Philippe has sworn that, for the first time on record, the Chagnys shall not keep their promise. But, as love is allpowerful, at the Opera asand even more thanelsewhere, we wonder how Count Philippe intends to prevent the viscount, his brother, from leading the new Margarita to the altar. The two brothers are said to adore each other; but the count is curiously mistaken if he imagines that brotherly love will triumph over love pure and simple. You see, Raoul, said the count, you are making us ridiculous! That little girl has turned your head with her ghoststories. The viscount had evidently repeated Christines narrative to his brother, during the night. All that he now said was Goodbye, Philippe. Have you quite made up your mind? You are going tonight? With her? No reply. Surely you will not do anything so foolish? I shall know how to prevent you! Goodbye, Philippe, said the viscount again and left the room. This scene was described to the examiningmagistrate by the count himself, who did not see Raoul again until that evening, at the Opera, a few minutes before Christines disappearance. Raoul, in fact, devoted the whole day to his preparations for the flight. The horses, the carriage, the coachman, the provisions, the luggage, the money required for the journey, the road to be taken (he had resolved not to go by train, so as to throw the ghost off the scent) all this had to be settled and provided for; and it occupied him until nine oclock at night. At nine oclock, a sort of travelingbarouche with the curtains of its windows closedown, took its place in the rank on the Rotunda side. It was drawn by two powerful horses driven by a coachman whose face was almost concealed in the long folds of a muffler. In front of this travelingcarriage were three broughams, belonging respectively to Carlotta, who had suddenly returned to Paris, to Sorelli and, at the head of the rank, to Comte Philippe de Chagny. No one left the barouche. The coachman remained on his box, and the three other coachmen remained on theirs. A shadow in a long black cloak and a soft black felt hat passed along the pavement between the Rotunda and the carriages, examined the barouche carefully, went up to the horses and the coachman and then moved away without saying a word. The magistrate afterward believed that this shadow was that of the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny; but I do not agree, seeing that that evening, as every evening, the Vicomte de Chagny was wearing a tall hat, which hat, besides, was subsequently found. I am more inclined to think that the shadow was that of the ghost, who knew all about the whole affair, as the reader will soon perceive. They were giving Faust, as it happened, before a splendid house. The Faubourg was magnificently represented; and the paragraph in that mornings Epoque had already produced its effect, for all eyes were turned to the box in which Count Philippe sat alone, apparently in a very indifferent and careless frame of mind. The feminine element in the brilliant audience seemed curiously puzzled; and the viscounts absence gave rise to any amount of whispering behind the fans. Christine Daa met with a rather cold reception. That special audience could not forgive her for aiming so high. The singer noticed this unfavorable attitude of a portion of the house and was confused by it. The regular frequenters of the Opera, who pretended to know the truth about the viscounts lovestory, exchanged significant smiles at certain passages in Margaritas part; and they made a show of turning and looking at Philippe de Chagnys box when Christine sang I wish I could but know who was he That addressed me, If he was noble, or, at least, what his name is. The count sat with his chin on his hand and seemed to pay no attention to these manifestations. He kept his eyes fixed on the stage; but his thoughts appeared to be far away. Christine lost her selfassurance more and more. She trembled. She felt on the verge of a breakdown.  Carolus Fonta wondered if she was ill, if she could keep the stage until the end of the Garden Act. In the front of the house, people remembered the catastrophe that had befallen Carlotta at the end of that act and the historic coack which had momentarily interrupted her career in Paris. Just then, Carlotta made her entrance in a box facing the stage, a sensational entrance. Poor Christine raised her eyes upon this fresh subject of excitement. She recognized her rival. She thought she saw a sneer on her lips. That saved her. She forgot everything, in order to triumph once more. From that moment the prima donna sang with all her heart and soul. She tried to surpass all that she had done till then; and she succeeded. In the last act when she began the invocation to the angels, she made all the members of the audience feel as though they too had wings. In the center of the amphitheater a man stood up and remained standing, facing the singer. It was Raoul. Holy angel, in Heaven blessed  And Christine, her arms outstretched, her throat filled with music, the glory of her hair falling over her bare shoulders, uttered the divine cry My spirit longs with thee to rest! It was at that moment that the stage was suddenly plunged in darkness. It happened so quickly that the spectators hardly had time to utter a sound of stupefaction, for the gas at once lit up the stage again. But Christine Daa was no longer there! What had become of her? What was that miracle? All exchanged glances without understanding, and the excitement at once reached its height. Nor was the tension any less great on the stage itself. Men rushed from the wings to the spot where Christine had been singing that very instant. The performance was interrupted amid the greatest disorder. Where had Christine gone? What witchcraft had snatched her away before the eyes of thousands of enthusiastic onlookers and from the arms of Carolus Fonta himself? It was as though the angels had really carried her up to rest. Raoul, still standing up in the amphitheater, had uttered a cry. Count Philippe had sprung to his feet in his box. People looked at the stage, at the count, at Raoul, and wondered if this curious event was connected in any way with the paragraph in that mornings paper. But Raoul hurriedly left his seat, the count disappeared from his box and, while the curtain was lowered, the subscribers rushed to the door that led behind the scenes. The rest of the audience waited amid an indescribable hubbub. Everyone spoke at once. Everyone tried to suggest an explanation of the extraordinary incident. At last, the curtain rose slowly and Carolus Fonta stepped to the conductors desk and, in a sad and serious voice, said Ladies and gentlemen, an unprecedented event has taken place and thrown us into a state of the greatest alarm. Our sisterartist, Christine Daa, has disappeared before our eyes and nobody can tell us how! XIV The Singular Attitude of a SafetyPin Behind the curtain, there was an indescribable crowd. Artists, sceneshifters, dancers, supers, choristers, subscribers were all asking questions, shouting and hustling one another. What became of her? Shes run away. With the Vicomte de Chagny, of course! No, with the count! Ah, heres Carlotta! Carlotta did the trick! No, it was the ghost! And a few laughed, especially as a careful examination of the trapdoors and boards had put the idea of an accident out of the question. Amid this noisy throng, three men stood talking in a low voice and with despairing gestures. They were Gabriel, the chorusmaster; Mercier, the actingmanager; and Rmy, the secretary. They retired to a corner of the lobby by which the stage communicates with the wide passage leading to the foyer of the ballet. Here they stood and argued behind some enormous properties. I knocked at the door, said Rmy. They did not answer. Perhaps they are not in the office. In any case, its impossible to find out, for they took the keys with them. They were obviously the managers, who had given orders, during the last entracte, that they were not to be disturbed on any pretext whatever. They were not in to anybody. All the same, exclaimed Gabriel, a singer isnt run away with, from the middle of the stage, every day! Did you shout that to them? asked Mercier, impatiently. Ill go back again, said Rmy, and disappeared at a run. Thereupon the stagemanager arrived. Well, M. Mercier, are you coming? What are you two doing here? Youre wanted, Mr. ActingManager. I refuse to know or to do anything before the commissary arrives, declared Mercier. I have sent for Mifroid. We shall see when he comes! And I tell you that you ought to go down to the organ at once. Not before the commissary comes. Ive been down to the organ myself already. Ah! And what did you see? Well, I saw nobody! Do you hearnobody! What do you want me to go down there for? Youre right! said the stagemanager, frantically pushing his hands through his rebellious hair. Youre right! But there might be someone at the organ who could tell us how the stage came to be suddenly darkened. Now Mauclair is nowhere to be found. Do you understand that? Mauclair was the gasman, who dispensed day and night at will on the stage of the Opera. Mauclair is not to be found! repeated Mercier, taken aback. Well, what about his assistants? Theres no Mauclair and no assistants! No one at the lights, I tell you! You can imagine, roared the stagemanager, that that little girl must have been carried off by somebody else she didnt run away by herself! It was a calculated stroke and we have to find out about it.  And what are the managers doing all this time?  I gave orders that no one was to go down to the lights and I posted a fireman in front of the gasmans box beside the organ. Wasnt that right? Yes, yes, quite right, quite right. And now lets wait for the commissary. The stagemanager walked away, shrugging his shoulders, fuming, muttering insults at those milksops who remained quietly squatting in a corner while the whole theater was topsyturvy. Gabriel and Mercier were not so quiet as all that. Only they had received an order that paralyzed them. The managers were not to be disturbed on any account. Rmy had violated that order and met with no success. At that moment he returned from his new expedition, wearing a curiously startled air. Well, have you seen them? asked Mercier. Moncharmin opened the door at last. His eyes were starting out of his head. I thought he meant to strike me. I could not get a word in; and what do you think he shouted at me? Have you a safetypin? No! Well, then, clear out! I tried to tell him that an unheardof thing had happened on the stage, but he roared, A safetypin! Give me a safetypin at once! A boy heard himhe was bellowing like a bullran up with a safetypin and gave it to him; whereupon Moncharmin slammed the door in my face, and there you are! And couldnt you have said, Christine Daa.  I should like to have seen you in my place. He was foaming at the mouth. He thought of nothing but his safetypin. I believe, if they hadnt brought him one on the spot, he would have fallen down in a fit!  Oh, all this isnt natural; and our managers are going mad!  Besides, it cant go on like this! Im not used to being treated in that fashion! Suddenly Gabriel whispered Its another trick of O. G.s. Rmy gave a grin, Mercier a sigh and seemed about to speak  but, meeting Gabriels eye, said nothing. However, Mercier felt his responsibility increased as the minutes passed without the managers appearing; and, at last, he could stand it no longer. Look here, Ill go and hunt them out myself! Gabriel, turning very gloomy and serious, stopped him. Be careful what youre doing, Mercier! If theyre staying in their office, its probably because they have to! O. G. has more than one trick in his bag! But Mercier shook his head. Thats their lookout! Im going! If people had listened to me, the police would have known everything long ago! And he went. Whats everything? asked Rmy. What was there to tell the police? Why dont you answer, Gabriel?  Ah, so you know something! Well, you would do better to tell me, too, if you dont want me to shout out that you are all going mad!  Yes, thats what you are mad! Gabriel put on a stupid look and pretended not to understand the private secretarys unseemly outburst. What something am I supposed to know? he said. I dont know what you mean. Rmy began to lose his temper. This evening, Richard and Moncharmin were behaving like lunatics, here, between the acts. I never noticed it, growled Gabriel, very much annoyed. Then youre the only one!  Do you think that I didnt see them?  And that M. Parabise, the manager of the Crdit Central, noticed nothing?  And that M. de La Borderie, the ambassador, has no eyes to see with?  Why, all the subscribers were pointing at our managers! But what were our managers doing? asked Gabriel, putting on his most innocent air. What were they doing? You know better than anyone what they were doing!  You were there!  And you were watching them, you and Mercier!  And you were the only two who didnt laugh.  I dont understand! Gabriel raised his arms and dropped them to his sides again, which gesture was meant to convey that the question did not interest him in the least. Rmy continued What is the sense of this new mania of theirs? Why wont they have anyone come near them now? What? Wont they have anyone come near them? And they wont let anyone touch them! Really? Have you noticed that they wont let anyone touch them? That is certainly odd! Oh, so you admit it! And high time, too! And then, they walk backward! Backward! You have seen our managers walk backward? Why, I thought that only crabs walked backward! Dont laugh, Gabriel; dont laugh! Im not laughing, protested Gabriel, looking as solemn as a judge. Perhaps you can tell me this, Gabriel, as youre an intimate friend of the management When I went up to M. Richard, outside the foyer, during the Garden interval, with my hand out before me, why did M. Moncharmin hurriedly whisper to me, Go away! Go away! Whatever you do, dont touch M. le directeur! Am I supposed to have an infectious disease? Its incredible! And, a little later, when M. de La Borderie went up to M. Richard, didnt you see M. Moncharmin fling himself between them and hear him exclaim, M. lambassadeur, I entreat you not to touch M. le directeur? Its terrible!  And what was Richard doing meanwhile? What was he doing? Why, you saw him! He turned about, bowed in front of him, though there was nobody in front of him, and withdrew backward. Backward? And Moncharmin, behind Richard, also turned about; that is, he described a semicircle behind Richard and also walked backward!  And they went like that to the staircase leading to the managers office backward, backward, backward!  Well, if they are not mad, will you explain what it means? Perhaps they were practising a figure in the ballet, suggested Gabriel, without much conviction in his voice. The secretary was furious at this wretched joke, made at so dramatic a moment. He knit his brows and contracted his lips. Then he put his mouth to Gabriels ear Dont be so sly, Gabriel. There are things going on for which you and Mercier are partly responsible. What do you mean? asked Gabriel. Christine Daa is not the only one who suddenly disappeared tonight. Oh, nonsense! Theres no nonsense about it. Perhaps you can tell me why, when Mother Giry came down to the foyer just now, Mercier took her by the hand and hurried her away with him? Really? said Gabriel, I never saw it. You did see it, Gabriel, for you went with Mercier and Mother Giry to Merciers office. Since then, you and Mercier have been seen, but no one has seen Mother Giry. Do you think weve eaten her? No, but youve locked her up in the office; and anyone passing the office can hear her yelling, Oh, the scoundrels! Oh, the scoundrels!  At this point of this singular conversation, Mercier arrived, all out of breath. There! he said, in a gloomy voice. Its worse than ever!  I shouted, Its a serious matter! Open the door! Its I, Mercier. I heard footsteps. The door opened and Moncharmin appeared. He was very pale. He said, What do you want? I answered, Someone has run away with Christine Daa. What do you think he said? And a good job, too! And he shut the door, after putting this in my hand. Mercier opened his hand; Rmy and Gabriel looked. The safetypin! cried Rmy. Strange! Strange! muttered Gabriel, who could not help shivering. Suddenly a voice made them all three turn round. I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Could you tell me where Christine Daa is? In spite of the seriousness of the circumstances, the absurdity of the question would have made them roar with laughter, if they had not caught sight of a face so sorrowstricken that they were at once seized with pity. It was the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. XV Christine! Christine! Raouls first thought, after Christine Daas fantastic disappearance, was to accuse Erik. He no longer doubted the almost supernatural powers of the Angel of Music, in this domain of the Opera in which he had set up his empire. And Raoul rushed on the stage, in a mad fit of love and despair. Christine! Christine! he moaned, calling to her as he felt that she must be calling to him from the depths of that dark pit to which the monster had carried her. Christine! Christine! And he seemed to hear the girls screams through the frail boards that separated him from her. He bent forward, he listened,  he wandered over the stage like a madman. Ah, to descend, to descend into that pit of darkness every entrance to which was closed to him,  for the stairs that led below the stage were forbidden to one and all that night! Christine! Christine!  People pushed him aside, laughing. They made fun of him. They thought the poor lovers brain was gone! By what mad road, through what passages of mystery and darkness known to him alone had Erik dragged that puresouled child to the awful haunt, with the LouisPhilippe room, opening out on the lake? Christine! Christine!  Why dont you answer?  Are you alive?  Hideous thoughts flashed through Raouls congested brain. Of course, Erik must have discovered their secret, must have known that Christine had played him false. What a vengeance would be his! And Raoul thought again of the yellow stars that had come, the night before, and roamed over his balcony. Why had he not put them out for good? There were some mens eyes that dilated in the darkness and shone like stars or like cats eyes. Certainly Albinos, who seemed to have rabbits eyes by day, had cats eyes at night everybody knew that!  Yes, yes, he had undoubtedly fired at Erik. Why had he not killed him? The monster had fled up the gutterspout like a cat or a convict whoeverybody knew that alsowould scale the very skies, with the help of a gutterspout.  No doubt Erik was at that time contemplating some decisive step against Raoul, but he had been wounded and had escaped to turn against poor Christine instead. Such were the cruel thoughts that haunted Raoul as he ran to the singers dressingroom. Christine! Christine! Bitter tears scorched the boys eyelids as he saw scattered over the furniture the clothes which his beautiful bride was to have worn at the hour of their flight. Oh, why had she refused to leave earlier? Why had she toyed with the threatening catastrophe? Why toyed with the monsters heart? Why, in a final access of pity, had she insisted on flinging, as a last sop to that demons soul, her divine song Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, My spirit longs with thee to rest! Raoul, his throat filled with sobs, oaths and insults, fumbled awkwardly at the great mirror that had opened one night, before his eyes, to let Christine pass to the murky dwelling below. He pushed, pressed, groped about, but the glass apparently obeyed no one but Erik.  Perhaps actions were not enough with a glass of the kind? Perhaps he was expected to utter certain words? When he was a little boy, he had heard that there were things that obeyed the spoken word! Suddenly, Raoul remembered something about a gate opening into the Rue Scribe, an underground passage running straight to the Rue Scribe from the lake.  Yes, Christine had told him about that.  And, when he found that the key was no longer in the box, he nevertheless ran to the Rue Scribe. Outside, in the street, he passed his trembling hands over the huge stones, felt for outlets  met with iron bars  were those they?  Or these?  Or could it be that airhole?  He plunged his useless eyes through the bars.  How dark it was in there!  He listened.  All was silence!  He went round the building  and came to bigger bars, immense gates!  It was the entrance to the Cour de lAdministration. Raoul rushed into the doorkeepers lodge. I beg your pardon, madame, could you tell me where to find a gate or door, made of bars, iron bars, opening into the Rue Scribe  and leading to the lake?  You know the lake I mean?  Yes, the underground lake  under the Opera. Yes, sir, I know there is a lake under the Opera, but I dont know which door leads to it. I have never been there! And the Rue Scribe, madame, the Rue Scribe? Have you never been to the Rue Scribe? The woman laughed, screamed with laughter! Raoul darted away, roaring with anger, ran upstairs, four stairs at a time, downstairs, rushed through the whole of the business side of the operahouse, found himself once more in the light of the stage. He stopped, with his heart thumping in his chest suppose Christine Daa had been found? He saw a group of men and asked I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Could you tell me where Christine Daa is? And somebody laughed. At the same moment the stage buzzed with a new sound and, amid a crowd of men in eveningdress, all talking and gesticulating together, appeared a man who seemed very calm and displayed a pleasant face, all pink and chubbycheeked, crowned with curly hair and lit up by a pair of wonderfully serene blue eyes. Mercier, the actingmanager, called the Vicomte de Chagnys attention to him and said This is the gentleman to whom you should put your question, monsieur. Let me introduce M. Mifroid, the commissary of police. Ah, M. le Vicomte de Chagny! Delighted to meet you, monsieur, said the commissary. Would you mind coming with me?  And now where are the managers?  Where are the managers?  Mercier did not answer, and Rmy, the secretary, volunteered the information that the managers were locked up in their office and that they knew nothing as yet of what had happened. You dont mean to say so! Let us go up to the office! And M. Mifroid, followed by an everincreasing crowd, turned toward the business side of the building. Mercier took advantage of the confusion to slip a key into Gabriels hand This is all going very badly, he whispered. You had better let Mother Giry out. And Gabriel moved away. They soon came to the managers door. Mercier stormed in vain the door remained closed. Open in the name of the law! commanded M. Mifroid, in a loud and rather anxious voice. At last the door was opened. All rushed in to the office, on the commissarys heels. Raoul was the last to enter. As he was about to follow the rest into the room, a hand was laid on his shoulder and he heard these words spoken in his ear Eriks secrets concern no one but himself! He turned around, with a stifled exclamation. The hand that was laid on his shoulder was now placed on the lips of a person with an ebony skin, with eyes of jade and with an astrakhan cap on his head the Persian! The stranger kept up the gesture that recommended discretion and then, at the moment when the astonished viscount was about to ask the reason of his mysterious intervention, bowed and disappeared. XVI Mme. Girys Astounding Revelations as to Her Personal Relations with the Opera Ghost Before following the commissary into the managers office I must describe certain extraordinary occurrences that took place in that office which Rmy and Mercier had vainly tried to enter and into which MM. Richard and Moncharmin had locked themselves with an object which the reader does not yet know, but which it is my duty, as an historian, to reveal without further postponement. I have had occasion to say that the managers mood had undergone a disagreeable change for some time past and to convey the fact that this change was due not only to the fall of the chandelier on the famous night of the gala performance. The reader must know that the ghost had calmly been paid his first twenty thousand francs. Oh, there had been wailing and gnashing of teeth, indeed! And yet the thing had happened as simply as could be. One morning, the managers found on their table an envelope addressed to Monsieur O. G. (private) and accompanied by a note from O. G. himself The time has come to carry out the clause in the memorandumbook. Please put twenty notes of a thousand francs each into this envelope, seal it with your own seal and hand it to Mme. Giry, who will do what is necessary. The managers did not hesitate; without wasting time in asking how these confounded communications came to be delivered in an office which they were careful to keep locked, they seized this opportunity of laying hands on the mysterious blackmailer. And, after telling the whole story, under the promise of secrecy, to Gabriel and Mercier, they put the twenty thousand francs into the envelope and without asking for explanations, handed it to Mme. Giry, who had been reinstated in her functions. The boxkeeper displayed no astonishment. I need hardly say that she was well watched. She went straight to the ghosts box and placed the precious envelope on the little shelf attached to the ledge. The two managers, as well as Gabriel and Mercier, were hidden in such a way that they did not lose sight of the envelope for a second during the performance and even afterward, for, as the envelope had not moved, those who watched it did not move either; and Mme. Giry went away while the managers, Gabriel and Mercier were still there. At last, they became tired of waiting and opened the envelope, after ascertaining that the seals had not been broken. At first sight, Richard and Moncharmin thought that the notes were still there; but soon they perceived that they were not the same. The twenty real notes were gone and had been replaced by twenty notes of the Bank of St. Farce!2 The managers rage and fright were unmistakable. Moncharmin wanted to send for the commissary of police, but Richard objected. He no doubt had a plan, for he said Dont let us make ourselves ridiculous! All Paris would laugh at us. O. G. has won the first game we will win the second. He was thinking of the next months allowance. Nevertheless, they had been so absolutely tricked that they were bound to suffer a certain dejection. And, upon my word, it was not difficult to understand. We must not forget that the managers had an idea at the back of their minds, all the time, that this strange incident might be an unpleasant practical joke on the part of their predecessors and that it would not do to divulge it prematurely. On the other hand, Moncharmin was sometimes troubled with a suspicion of Richard himself, who occasionally took fanciful whims into his head. And so they were content to await events, while keeping an eye on Mother Giry. Richard would not have her spoken to. If she is a confederate, he said, the notes are gone long ago. But, in my opinion, she is merely an idiot. Shes not the only idiot in this business, said Moncharmin pensively. Well, who could have thought it? moaned Richard. But dont be afraid  next time, I shall have taken my precautions. The next time fell on the same day that beheld the disappearance of Christine Daa. In the morning, a note from the ghost reminded them that the money was due. It read Do just as you did last time. It went very well. Put the twenty thousand in the envelope and hand it to our excellent Mme. Giry. And the note was accompanied by the usual envelope. They had only to insert the notes.