The Phantom of the Opera - Page 75/178

"No, I have no idea," said Raoul. "What was your accompaniment?"

"We were accompanied by a music which I do not know: it was behind the

wall and wonderfully accurate. The voice seemed to understand mine

exactly, to know precisely where my father had left off teaching me.

In a few weeks' time, I hardly knew myself when I sang. I was even

frightened. I seemed to dread a sort of witchcraft behind it; but

Mamma Valerius reassured me. She said that she knew I was much too

simple a girl to give the devil a hold on me ... My progress, by the

voice's own order, was kept a secret between the voice, Mamma Valerius

and myself. It was a curious thing, but, outside the dressing-room, I

sang with my ordinary, every-day voice and nobody noticed anything. I

did all that the voice asked. It said, 'Wait and see: we shall

astonish Paris!' And I waited and lived on in a sort of ecstatic dream.

It was then that I saw you for the first time one evening, in the

house. I was so glad that I never thought of concealing my delight

when I reached my dressing-room. Unfortunately, the voice was there

before me and soon noticed, by my air, that something had happened. It

asked what was the matter and I saw no reason for keeping our story

secret or concealing the place which you filled in my heart. Then the

voice was silent. I called to it, but it did not reply; I begged and

entreated, but in vain. I was terrified lest it had gone for good. I

wish to Heaven it had, dear! ... That night, I went home in a

desperate condition. I told Mamma Valerius, who said, 'Why, of course,

the voice is jealous!' And that, dear, first revealed to me that I

loved you."

Christine stopped and laid her head on Raoul's shoulder. They sat like

that for a moment, in silence, and they did not see, did not perceive

the movement, at a few steps from them, of the creeping shadow of two

great black wings, a shadow that came along the roof so near, so near

them that it could have stifled them by closing over them.

"The next day," Christine continued, with a sigh, "I went back to my

dressing-room in a very pensive frame of mind. The voice was there,

spoke to me with great sadness and told me plainly that, if I must

bestow my heart on earth, there was nothing for the voice to do but to

go back to Heaven. And it said this with such an accent of HUMAN

sorrow that I ought then and there to have suspected and begun to

believe that I was the victim of my deluded senses. But my faith in

the voice, with which the memory of my father was so closely

intermingled, remained undisturbed. I feared nothing so much as that I

might never hear it again; I had thought about my love for you and

realized all the useless danger of it; and I did not even know if you

remembered me. Whatever happened, your position in society forbade me

to contemplate the possibility of ever marrying you; and I swore to the

voice that you were no more than a brother to me nor ever would be and

that my heart was incapable of any earthly love. And that, dear, was

why I refused to recognize or see you when I met you on the stage or in

the passages. Meanwhile, the hours during which the voice taught me

were spent in a divine frenzy, until, at last, the voice said to me,

'You can now, Christine Daae, give to men a little of the music of

Heaven.' I don't know how it was that Carlotta did not come to the

theater that night nor why I was called upon to sing in her stead; but

I sang with a rapture I had never known before and I felt for a moment

as if my soul were leaving my body!"