"What more can I tell you, dear? You now know the tragedy. It went on
for a fortnight--a fortnight during which I lied to him. My lies were
as hideous as the monster who inspired them; but they were the price of
my liberty. I burned his mask; and I managed so well that, even when
he was not singing, he tried to catch my eye, like a dog sitting by its
master. He was my faithful slave and paid me endless little
attentions. Gradually, I gave him such confidence that he ventured to
take me walking on the banks of the lake and to row me in the boat on
its leaden waters; toward the end of my captivity he let me out through
the gates that closed the underground passages in the Rue Scribe. Here
a carriage awaited us and took us to the Bois. The night when we met
you was nearly fatal to me, for he is terribly jealous of you and I had
to tell him that you were soon going away ... Then, at last, after a
fortnight of that horrible captivity, during which I was filled with
pity, enthusiasm, despair and horror by turns, he believed me when I
said, 'I WILL COME BACK!'"
"And you went back, Christine," groaned Raoul.
"Yes, dear, and I must tell you that it was not his frightful threats
when setting me free that helped me to keep my word, but the harrowing
sob which he gave on the threshold of the tomb. ... That sob attached
me to the unfortunate man more than I myself suspected when saying
good-by to him. Poor Erik! Poor Erik!"
"Christine," said Raoul, rising, "you tell me that you love me; but you
had recovered your liberty hardly a few hours before you returned to
Erik! Remember the masked ball!"
"Yes; and do you remember those hours which I passed with you, Raoul
... to the great danger of both of us?"
"I doubted your love for me, during those hours."
"Do you doubt it still, Raoul? ... Then know that each of my visits to
Erik increased my horror of him; for each of those visits, instead of
calming him, as I hoped, made him mad with love! And I am so
frightened, so frightened! ..."
"You are frightened ... but do you love me? If Erik were good-looking,
would you love me, Christine?"
She rose in her turn, put her two trembling arms round the young man's
neck and said: "Oh, my betrothed of a day, if I did not love you, I would not give you
my lips! Take them, for the first time and the last."
He kissed her lips; but the night that surrounded them was rent
asunder, they fled as at the approach of a storm and their eyes, filled
with dread of Erik, showed them, before they disappeared, high up above
them, an immense night-bird that stared at them with its blazing eyes
and seemed to cling to the string of Apollo's lyre.