"You will beg my pardon, one day, for all those ugly words, Raoul, and
when you do I shall forgive you!"
He shook his head. "No, no, you have driven me mad! When I think that
I had only one object in life: to give my name to an opera wench!"
"Raoul! ... How can you?"
"I shall die of shame!"
"No, dear, live!" said Christine's grave and changed voice. "And ...
good-by. Good-by, Raoul ..."
The boy stepped forward, staggering as he went. He risked one more
sarcasm: "Oh, you must let me come and applaud you from time to time!"
"I shall never sing again, Raoul! ..."
"Really?" he replied, still more satirically. "So he is taking you off
the stage: I congratulate you! ... But we shall meet in the Bois, one
of these evenings!"
"Not in the Bois nor anywhere, Raoul: you shall not see me again ..."
"May one ask at least to what darkness you are returning? ... For what
hell are you leaving, mysterious lady ... or for what paradise?"
"I came to tell you, dear, but I can't tell you now ... you would not
believe me! You have lost faith in me, Raoul; it is finished!"
She spoke in such a despairing voice that the lad began to feel remorse
for his cruelty.
"But look here!" he cried. "Can't you tell me what all this means!
... You are free, there is no one to interfere with you... You go
about Paris ... You put on a domino to come to the ball... Why do you
not go home? ... What have you been doing this past fortnight? ... What
is this tale about the Angel of Music, which you have been telling
Mamma Valerius? Some one may have taken you in, played upon your
innocence. I was a witness of it myself, at Perros ... but you know
what to believe now! You seem to me quite sensible, Christine. You
know what you are doing ... And meanwhile Mamma Valerius lies waiting
for you at home and appealing to your 'good genius!' ... Explain
yourself, Christine, I beg of you! Any one might have been deceived as
I was. What is this farce?"
Christine simply took off her mask and said: "Dear, it is a tragedy!"
Raoul now saw her face and could not restrain an exclamation of
surprise and terror. The fresh complexion of former days was gone. A
mortal pallor covered those features, which he had known so charming
and so gentle, and sorrow had furrowed them with pitiless lines and
traced dark and unspeakably sad shadows under her eyes.
"My dearest! My dearest!" he moaned, holding out his arms. "You
promised to forgive me ..."
"Perhaps! ... Some day, perhaps!" she said, resuming her mask; and she
went away, forbidding him, with a gesture, to follow her.