Fantôme de l'Opéra. English

  Chapter XV Christine! Christine!

  Raoul's first thought, after Christine Daae's fantastic disappearance,was to accuse Erik. He no longer doubted the almost supernaturalpowers of the Angel of Music, in this domain of the Opera in which hehad set up his empire. And Raoul rushed on the stage, in a mad fit oflove and despair.

  "Christine! Christine!" he moaned, calling to her as he felt that shemust be calling to him from the depths of that dark pit to which themonster had carried her. "Christine! Christine!"

  And he seemed to hear the girl's screams through the frail boards thatseparated him from her. He bent forward, he listened, ... he wanderedover the stage like a madman. Ah, to descend, to descend into that pitof darkness every entrance to which was closed to him, ... for thestairs that led below the stage were forbidden to one and all thatnight!

  "Christine! Christine! ..."

  People pushed him aside, laughing. They made fun of him. They thoughtthe poor lover's brain was gone!

  By what mad road, through what passages of mystery and darkness knownto him alone had Erik dragged that pure-souled child to the awfulhaunt, with the Louis-Philippe room, opening out on the lake?

  "Christine! Christine! ... Why don't you answer? ... Are you alive?..."

  Hideous thoughts flashed through Raoul's congested brain. Of course,Erik must have discovered their secret, must have known that Christinehad played him false. What a vengeance would be his!

  And Raoul thought again of the yellow stars that had come, the nightbefore, and roamed over his balcony. Why had he not put them out forgood? There were some men's eyes that dilated in the darkness andshone like stars or like cats' eyes. Certainly Albinos, who seemed tohave rabbits' eyes by day, had cats' eyes at night: everybody knewthat! ... Yes, yes, he had undoubtedly fired at Erik. Why had he notkilled him? The monster had fled up the gutter-spout like a cat or aconvict who--everybody knew that also--would scale the very skies, withthe help of a gutter-spout ... No doubt Erik was at that timecontemplating some decisive step against Raoul, but he had been woundedand had escaped to turn against poor Christine instead.

  Such were the cruel thoughts that haunted Raoul as he ran to thesinger's dressing-room.

  "Christine! Christine!"

  Bitter tears scorched the boy's eyelids as he saw scattered over thefurniture the clothes which his beautiful bride was to have worn at thehour of their flight. Oh, why had she refused to leave earlier?

  Why had she toyed with the threatening catastrophe? Why toyed with themonster's heart? Why, in a final access of pity, had she insisted onflinging, as a last sop to that demon's 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, fumbledawkwardly at the great mirror that had opened one night, before hiseyes, 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? Perhapshe was expected to utter certain words? When he was a little boy, hehad heard that there were things that obeyed the spoken word!

  Suddenly, Raoul remembered something about a gate opening into the RueScribe, an underground passage running straight to the Rue Scribe fromthe lake ... Yes, Christine had told him about that... And, when hefound that the key was no longer in the box, he nevertheless ran to theRue Scribe. Outside, in the street, he passed his trembling hands overthe huge stones, felt for outlets ... met with iron bars ... were thosethey? ... Or these? ... Or could it be that air-hole? ... He plungedhis useless eyes through the bars ... How dark it was in there! ... Helistened ... All was silence! ... He went round the building ... andcame to bigger bars, immense gates! ... It was the entrance to the Courde l'Administration.

  Raoul rushed into the doorkeeper's lodge.

  "I beg your pardon, madame, could you tell me where to find a gate ordoor, made of bars, iron bars, opening into the Rue Scribe ... andleading to the lake? ... You know the lake I mean? ... Yes, theunderground lake ... under the Opera."

  "Yes, sir, I know there is a lake under the Opera, but I don't knowwhich door leads to it. I have never been there!"

  "And the Rue Scribe, madame, the Rue Scribe? Have you never been tothe Rue Scribe?"

  The woman laughed, screamed with laughter! Raoul darted away, roaringwith anger, ran up-stairs, four stairs at a time, down-stairs, rushedthrough the whole of the business side of the opera-house, foundhimself once more in the light of the stage.

  He stopped, with his heart thumping in his chest: suppose ChristineDaae had been found? He saw a group of men and asked:

  "I beg your pardon, gentlemen. Could you tell me where Christine Daaeis?"

  And somebody laughed.

  At the same moment the stage buzzed with a new sound and, amid a crowdof men in evening-dress, all talking and gesticulating together,appeared a man who seemed very calm and displayed a pleasant face, allpink and chubby-cheeked, crowned with curly hair and lit up by a pairof wonderfully serene blue eyes. Mercier, the acting-manager, calledthe Vicomte de Chagny's attention to him and said:

  "This is the gentleman to whom you should put your question, monsieur.Let me introduce Mifroid, the commissary of police."

  "Ah, M. le Vicomte de Chagny! Delighted to meet you, monsieur," saidthe commissary. "Would you mind coming with me? ... And now where arethe managers? ... Where are the managers?"

  Mercier did not answer, and Remy, the secretary, volunteered theinformation that the managers were locked up in their office and thatthey knew nothing as yet of what had happened.

  "You don't mean to say so! Let us go up to the office!"

  And M. Mifroid, followed by an ever-increasing crowd, turned toward thebusiness side of the building. Mercier took advantage of the confusionto slip a key into Gabriel's hand:

  "This is all going very badly," he whispered. "You had better letMother Giry out."

  And Gabriel moved away.

  They soon came to the managers' door. Mercier stormed in vain: thedoor remained closed.

  "Open in the name of the law!" commanded M. Mifroid, in a loud andrather anxious voice.

  At last the door was opened. All rushed in to the office, on thecommissary's heels.

  Raoul was the last to enter. As he was about to follow the rest intothe room, a hand was laid on his shoulder and he heard these wordsspoken in his ear:

  "ERIK'S SECRETS CONCERN NO ONE BUT HIMSELF!"

  He turned around, with a stifled exclamation. The hand that was laidon his shoulder was now placed on the lips of a person with an ebonyskin, with eyes of jade and with an astrakhan cap on his head: thePersian! The stranger kept up the gesture that recommended discretionand then, at the moment when the astonished viscount was about to askthe reason of his mysterious intervention, bowed and disappeared.