A few weeks later, when the tragedy at the Opera compelled the
intervention of the public prosecutor, M. Mifroid, the commissary of
police, examined the Vicomte de Chagny touching the events of the night
at Perros. I quote the questions and answers as given in the official
report pp. 150 et seq.: Q. "Did Mlle. Daae not see you come down from your room by the curious
road which you selected?"
R. "No, monsieur, no, although, when walking behind her, I took no
pains to deaden the sound of my footsteps. In fact, I was anxious that
she should turn round and see me. I realized that I had no excuse for
following her and that this way of spying on her was unworthy of me.
But she seemed not to hear me and acted exactly as though I were not
there. She quietly left the quay and then suddenly walked quickly up
the road. The church-clock had struck a quarter to twelve and I
thought that this must have made her hurry, for she began almost to run
and continued hastening until she came to the church."
Q. "Was the gate open?"
R. "Yes, monsieur, and this surprised me, but did not seem to surprise
Mlle. Daae."
Q. "Was there no one in the churchyard?"
R. "I did not see any one; and, if there had been, I must have seen
him. The moon was shining on the snow and made the night quite light."
Q. "Was it possible for any one to hide behind the tombstones?"
R. "No, monsieur. They were quite small, poor tombstones, partly
hidden under the snow, with their crosses just above the level of the
ground. The only shadows were those of the crosses and ourselves. The
church stood out quite brightly. I never saw so clear a night. It was
very fine and very cold and one could see everything."
Q. "Are you at all superstitious?"
R. "No, monsieur, I am a practising Catholic," Q. "In what condition of mind were you?"
R. "Very healthy and peaceful, I assure you. Mlle. Daae's curious
action in going out at that hour had worried me at first; but, as soon
as I saw her go to the churchyard, I thought that she meant to fulfil
some pious duty on her father's grave and I considered this so natural
that I recovered all my calmness. I was only surprised that she had
not heard me walking behind her, for my footsteps were quite audible on
the hard snow. But she must have been taken up with her intentions and
I resolved not to disturb her. She knelt down by her father's grave,
made the sign of the cross and began to pray. At that moment, it
struck midnight. At the last stroke, I saw Mlle. Daae life{sic} her
eyes to the sky and stretch out her arms as though in ecstasy. I was
wondering what the reason could be, when I myself raised my head and
everything within me seemed drawn toward the invisible, WHICH WAS
PLAYING THE MOST PERFECT MUSIC! Christine and I knew that music; we
had heard it as children. But it had never been executed with such
divine art, even by M. Daae. I remembered all that Christine had told
me of the Angel of Music. The air was The Resurrection of Lazarus,
which old M. Daae used to play to us in his hours of melancholy and of
faith. If Christine's Angel had existed, he could not have played
better, that night, on the late musician's violin. When the music
stopped, I seemed to hear a noise from the skulls in the heap of bones;
it was as though they were chuckling and I could not help shuddering."