"What more can I tell you, dear? You now know the tragedy. It went on

for a fortnight--a 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

good-by 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 good-looking,

would you love me, Christine?"

She rose in her turn, put her two trembling arms round the young man's

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 night-bird that stared at them with its blazing eyes

and seemed to cling to the string of Apollo's lyre.




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