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- Гастон Леру
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- Призрак Оперы
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- Стр. 143/258
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Such
were
the
cruel
thoughts
that
haunted
Raoul
as
he
ran
to
the
singer
’
s
dressing
-
room
.
"
Christine
!
Christine
!
"
Bitter
tears
scorched
the
boy
’
s
eyelids
as
he
saw
scattered
over
the
furniture
the
clothes
which
his
beautiful
bride
was
to
have
worn
at
the
hour
of
their
flight
.
Oh
,
why
had
she
refused
to
leave
earlier
?
Why
had
she
toyed
with
the
threatening
catastrophe
?
Why
toyed
with
the
monster
’
s
heart
?
Why
,
in
a
final
access
of
pity
,
had
she
insisted
on
flinging
,
as
a
last
sop
to
that
demon
’
s
soul
,
her
divine
song
:
"
Holy
angel
,
in
Heaven
blessed
,
My
spirit
longs
with
thee
to
rest
!
"
Raoul
,
his
throat
filled
with
sobs
,
oaths
and
insults
,
fumbled
awkwardly
at
the
great
mirror
that
had
opened
one
night
,
before
his
eyes
,
to
let
Christine
pass
to
the
murky
dwelling
below
.
He
pushed
,
pressed
,
groped
about
,
but
the
glass
apparently
obeyed
no
one
but
Erik
.
.
.
Perhaps
actions
were
not
enough
with
a
glass
of
the
kind
?
Perhaps
he
was
expected
to
utter
certain
words
?
When
he
was
a
little
boy
,
he
had
heard
that
there
were
things
that
obeyed
the
spoken
word
!
Suddenly
,
Raoul
remembered
something
about
a
gate
opening
into
the
Rue
Scribe
,
an
underground
passage
running
straight
to
the
Rue
Scribe
from
the
lake
.
.
.
Yes
,
Christine
had
told
him
about
that
.
.
.
And
,
when
he
found
that
the
key
was
no
longer
in
the
box
,
he
nevertheless
ran
to
the
Rue
Scribe
.
Outside
,
in
the
street
,
he
passed
his
trembling
hands
over
the
huge
stones
,
felt
for
outlets
.
.
.
met
with
iron
bars
.
.
.
were
those
they
?
.
.
.
Or
these
?
.
.
.
Or
could
it
be
that
air
-
hole
?
.
.
.
He
plunged
his
useless
eyes
through
the
bars
.
.
.
How
dark
it
was
in
there
!
.
.
.
He
listened
.
.
.
All
was
silence
!
.
.
.
He
went
round
the
building
.
.
.
and
came
to
bigger
bars
,
immense
gates
!
.
.
.
It
was
the
entrance
to
the
Cour
de
l
’
Administration
.
Raoul
rushed
into
the
doorkeeper
’
s
lodge
.
