The Phantom of the Opera - Page 62/178

Raoul, peeping from behind the curtain, could not believe his eyes,

which showed him nothing. Christine's face lit up. A smile of

happiness appeared upon her bloodless lips, a smile like that of sick

people when they receive the first hope of recovery.

The voice without a body went on singing; and certainly Raoul had never

in his life heard anything more absolutely and heroically sweet, more

gloriously insidious, more delicate, more powerful, in short, more

irresistibly triumphant. He listened to it in a fever and he now began

to understand how Christine Daae was able to appear one evening, before

the stupefied audience, with accents of a beauty hitherto unknown, of a

superhuman exaltation, while doubtless still under the influence of the

mysterious and invisible master.

The voice was singing the Wedding-night Song from Romeo and Juliet.

Raoul saw Christine stretch out her arms to the voice as she had done,

in Perros churchyard, to the invisible violin playing The Resurrection

of Lazarus. And nothing could describe the passion with which the

voice sang: "Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!"

The strains went through Raoul's heart. Struggling against the charm

that seemed to deprive him of all his will and all his energy and of

almost all his lucidity at the moment when he needed them most, he

succeeded in drawing back the curtain that hid him and he walked to

where Christine stood. She herself was moving to the back of the room,

the whole wall of which was occupied by a great mirror that reflected

her image, but not his, for he was just behind her and entirely covered

by her.

"Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!"

Christine walked toward her image in the glass and the image came

toward her. The two Christines--the real one and the reflection--ended

by touching; and Raoul put out his arms to clasp the two in one

embrace. But, by a sort of dazzling miracle that sent him staggering,

Raoul was suddenly flung back, while an icy blast swept over his face;

he saw, not two, but four, eight, twenty Christines spinning round him,

laughing at him and fleeing so swiftly that he could not touch one of

them. At last, everything stood still again; and he saw himself in the

glass. But Christine had disappeared.

He rushed up to the glass. He struck at the walls. Nobody! And

meanwhile the room still echoed with a distant passionate singing: "Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!"

Which way, which way had Christine gone? ... Which way would she

return? ...

Would she return? Alas, had she not declared to him that everything

was finished? And was the voice not repeating: "Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!"