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Raoul
de
Chagny
to
go
with
me
.
’
’
Do
as
you
please
,
’
replied
the
voice
,
’
but
I
shall
be
at
Perros
too
,
for
I
am
wherever
you
are
,
Christine
;
and
,
if
you
are
still
worthy
of
me
,
if
you
have
not
lied
to
me
,
I
will
play
you
The
Resurrection
of
Lazarus
,
on
the
stroke
of
midnight
,
on
your
father
’
s
tomb
and
on
your
father
’
s
violin
.
’
That
,
dear
,
was
how
I
came
to
write
you
the
letter
that
brought
you
to
Perros
.
How
could
I
have
been
so
beguiled
?
How
was
it
,
when
I
saw
the
personal
,
the
selfish
point
of
view
of
the
voice
,
that
I
did
not
suspect
some
impostor
?
Alas
,
I
was
no
longer
mistress
of
myself
:
I
had
become
his
thing
!
"
"
But
,
after
all
,
"
cried
Raoul
,
"
you
soon
came
to
know
the
truth
!
Why
did
you
not
at
once
rid
yourself
of
that
abominable
nightmare
?
"
"
Know
the
truth
,
Raoul
?
Rid
myself
of
that
nightmare
?
But
,
my
poor
boy
,
I
was
not
caught
in
the
nightmare
until
the
day
when
I
learned
the
truth
!
.
.
.
Pity
me
,
Raoul
,
pity
me
!
.
.
.
You
remember
the
terrible
evening
when
Carlotta
thought
that
she
had
been
turned
into
a
toad
on
the
stage
and
when
the
house
was
suddenly
plunged
in
darkness
through
the
chandelier
crashing
to
the
floor
?
There
were
killed
and
wounded
that
night
and
the
whole
theater
rang
with
terrified
screams
.
My
first
thought
was
for
you
and
the
voice
.
I
was
at
once
easy
,
where
you
were
concerned
,
for
I
had
seen
you
in
your
brother
’
s
box
and
I
knew
that
you
were
not
in
danger
.
But
the
voice
had
told
me
that
it
would
be
at
the
performance
and
I
was
really
afraid
for
it
,
just
as
if
it
had
been
an
ordinary
person
who
was
capable
of
dying
.
I
thought
to
myself
,
’
The
chandelier
may
have
come
down
upon
the
voice
.
’
I
was
then
on
the
stage
and
was
nearly
running
into
the
house
,
to
look
for
the
voice
among
the
killed
and
wounded
,
when
I
thought
that
,
if
the
voice
was
safe
,
it
would
be
sure
to
be
in
my
dressing
-
room
and
I
rushed
to
my
room
.
The
voice
was
not
there
.
I
locked
my
door
and
,
with
tears
in
my
eyes
,
besought
it
,
if
it
were
still
alive
,
to
manifest
itself
to
me
.
The
voice
did
not
reply
,
but
suddenly
I
heard
a
long
,
beautiful
wail
which
I
knew
well
.
It
is
the
plaint
of
Lazarus
when
,
at
the
sound
of
the
Redeemer
’
s
voice
,
he
begins
to
open
his
eyes
and
see
the
light
of
day
.
It
was
the
music
which
you
and
I
,
Raoul
,
heard
at
Perros
.
And
then
the
voice
began
to
sing
the
leading
phrase
,
’
Come
!
And
believe
in
me
!
Whoso
believes
in
me
shall
live
!
Walk
!
Whoso
hath
believed
in
me
shall
never
die
!
.
.
.
’
I
can
not
tell
you
the
effect
which
that
music
had
upon
me
.
It
seemed
to
command
me
,
personally
,
to
come
,
to
stand
up
and
come
to
it
.
It
retreated
and
I
followed
.
’
Come
!
And
believe
in
me
!
’
I
believed
in
it
,
I
came
.
.
.
I
came
and
—
this
was
the
extraordinary
thing
—
my
dressing
-
room
,
as
I
moved
,
seemed
to
lengthen
out
.
.
.
to
lengthen
out
.
.
.
Evidently
,
it
must
have
been
an
effect
of
mirrors
.
.
.
for
I
had
the
mirror
in
front
of
me
.
.
.
And
,
suddenly
,
I
was
outside
the
room
without
knowing
how
!
"
"
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
?
"
"
Yes
,
but
tell
me
what
happened
when
you
were
on
the
white
horse
of
the
Profeta
?
"
