"What! Without knowing how? Christine, Christine, you must really
stop dreaming!"
"I was not dreaming, dear, I was outside my room without knowing how.
You, who saw me disappear from my room one evening, may be able to
explain it; but I can not. I can only tell you that, suddenly, there
was no mirror before me and no dressing-room. I was in a dark passage,
I was frightened and I cried out. It was quite dark, but for a faint
red glimmer at a distant corner of the wall. I tried out. My voice
was the only sound, for the singing and the violin had stopped. And,
suddenly, a hand was laid on mine ... or rather a stone-cold, bony
thing that seized my wrist and did not let go. I cried out again. An
arm took me round the waist and supported me. I struggled for a little
while and then gave up the attempt. I was dragged toward the little
red light and then I saw that I was in the hands of a man wrapped in a
large cloak and wearing a mask that hid his whole face. I made one
last effort; my limbs stiffened, my mouth opened to scream, but a hand
closed it, a hand which I felt on my lips, on my skin ... a hand that
smelt of death. Then I fainted away.
"When I opened my eyes, we were still surrounded by darkness. A
lantern, standing on the ground, showed a bubbling well. The water
splashing from the well disappeared, almost at once, under the floor on
which I was lying, with my head on the knee of the man in the black
cloak and the black mask. He was bathing my temples and his hands
smelt of death. I tried to push them away and asked, 'Who are you?
Where is the voice?' His only answer was a sigh. Suddenly, a hot
breath passed over my face and I perceived a white shape, beside the
man's black shape, in the darkness. The black shape lifted me on to
the white shape, a glad neighing greeted my astounded ears and I
murmured, 'Cesar!' The animal quivered. Raoul, I was lying half back
on a saddle and I had recognized the white horse out of the PROFETA,
which I had so often fed with sugar and sweets. I remembered that, one
evening, there was a rumor in the theater that the horse had
disappeared and that it had been stolen by the Opera ghost. I believed
in the voice, but had never believed in the ghost. Now, however, I
began to wonder, with a shiver, whether I was the ghost's prisoner. I
called upon the voice to help me, for I should never have imagined that
the voice and the ghost were one. You have heard about the Opera
ghost, have you not, Raoul?"