He asked in a low voice: "What makes you think that Christine is fond
of me, madame?"
"She used to speak of you every day."
"Really? ... And what did she tell you?"
"She told me that you had made her a proposal!"
And the good old lady began laughing wholeheartedly. Raoul sprang from
his chair, flushing to the temples, suffering agonies.
"What's this? Where are you going? Sit down again at once, will you?
... Do you think I will let you go like that? ... If you're angry with
me for laughing, I beg your pardon... After all, what has happened
isn't your fault... Didn't you know? ... Did you think that Christine
was free? ..."
"Is Christine engaged to be married?" the wretched Raoul asked, in a
choking voice.
"Why no! Why no! ... You know as well as I do that Christine couldn't
marry, even if she wanted to!"
"But I don't know anything about it! ... And why can't Christine marry?"
"Because of the Angel of Music, of course! ..."
"I don't follow ..."
"Yes, he forbids her to! ..."
"He forbids her! ... The Angel of Music forbids her to marry!"
"Oh, he forbids her ... without forbidding her. It's like this: he
tells her that, if she got married, she would never hear him again.
That's all! ... And that he would go away for ever! ... So, you
understand, she can't let the Angel of Music go. It's quite natural."
"Yes, yes," echoed Raoul submissively, "it's quite natural."
"Besides, I thought Christine had told you all that, when she met you
at Perros, where she went with her good genius."
"Oh, she went to Perros with her good genius, did she?"
"That is to say, he arranged to meet her down there, in Perros
churchyard, at Daae's grave. He promised to play her The Resurrection
of Lazarus on her father's violin!"
Raoul de Chagny rose and, with a very authoritative air, pronounced
these peremptory words: "Madame, you will have the goodness to tell me where that genius lives."
The old lady did not seem surprised at this indiscreet command. She
raised her eyes and said: "In Heaven!"
Such simplicity baffled him. He did not know what to say in the
presence of this candid and perfect faith in a genius who came down
nightly from Heaven to haunt the dressing-rooms at the Opera.
He now realized the possible state of mind of a girl brought up between
a superstitious fiddler and a visionary old lady and he shuddered when
he thought of the consequences of it all.
"Is Christine still a good girl?" he asked suddenly, in spite of
himself.
"I swear it, as I hope to be saved!" exclaimed the old woman, who, this
time, seemed to be incensed. "And, if you doubt it, sir, I don't know
what you are here for!"