I have already said that the sight of the forest did not surprise me at

all; and therefore I listened for the two of us to what was happening

next door. Lastly, my attention was especially attracted, not so much

to the scene, as to the mirrors that produced it. These mirrors were

broken in parts. Yes, they were marked and scratched; they had been

"starred," in spite of their solidity; and this proved to me that the

torture-chamber in which we now were HAD ALREADY SERVED A PURPOSE.

Yes, some wretch, whose feet were not bare like those of the victims of

the rosy hours of Mazenderan, had certainly fallen into this "mortal

illusion" and, mad with rage, had kicked against those mirrors which,

nevertheless, continued to reflect his agony. And the branch of the

tree on which he had put an end to his own sufferings was arranged in

such a way that, before dying, he had seen, for his last consolation, a

thousand men writhing in his company.

Yes, Joseph Buquet had undoubtedly been through all this! Were we to

die as he had done? I did not think so, for I knew that we had a few

hours before us and that I could employ them to better purpose than

Joseph Buquet was able to do. After all, I was thoroughly acquainted

with most of Erik's "tricks;" and now or never was the time to turn my

knowledge to account.

To begin with, I gave up every idea of returning to the passage that

had brought us to that accursed chamber. I did not trouble about the

possibility of working the inside stone that closed the passage; and

this for the simple reason that to do so was out of the question. We

had dropped from too great a height into the torture-chamber; there was

no furniture to help us reach that passage; not even the branch of the

iron tree, not even each other's shoulders were of any avail.

There was only one possible outlet, that opening into the

Louis-Philippe room in which Erik and Christine Daae were. But, though

this outlet looked like an ordinary door on Christine's side, it was

absolutely invisible to us. We must therefore try to open it without

even knowing where it was.

When I was quite sure that there was no hope for us from Christine

Daae's side, when I had heard the monster dragging the poor girl from

the Louis-Philippe room LEST SHE SHOULD INTERFERE WITH OUR TORTURES, I

resolved to set to work without delay.

But I had first to calm M. de Chagny, who was already walking about

like a madman, uttering incoherent cries. The snatches of conversation

which he had caught between Christine and the monster had contributed

not a little to drive him beside himself: add to that the shock of the

magic forest and the scorching heat which was beginning to make the

prespiration{sic} stream down his temples and you will have no

difficulty in understanding his state of mind. He shouted Christine's

name, brandished his pistol, knocked his forehead against the glass in

his endeavors to run down the glades of the illusive forest. In short,

the torture was beginning to work its spell upon a brain unprepared for

it.




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