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- Гастон Леру
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- Стр. 203/258
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The
Persian
shivered
.
"
It
might
very
well
be
the
rope
by
which
the
man
was
hanged
,
and
which
was
looked
for
so
long
.
"
And
,
suddenly
seized
with
fresh
anxiety
,
he
moved
the
little
red
disk
of
his
lantern
over
the
walls
.
In
this
way
,
he
lit
up
a
curious
thing
:
the
trunk
of
a
tree
,
which
seemed
still
quite
alive
,
with
its
leaves
;
and
the
branches
of
that
tree
ran
right
up
the
walls
and
disappeared
in
the
ceiling
.
Because
of
the
smallness
of
the
luminous
disk
,
it
was
difficult
at
first
to
make
out
the
appearance
of
things
:
they
saw
a
corner
of
a
branch
.
.
.
and
a
leaf
.
.
.
and
another
leaf
.
.
.
and
,
next
to
it
,
nothing
at
all
,
nothing
but
the
ray
of
light
that
seemed
to
reflect
itself
.
.
.
Raoul
passed
his
hand
over
that
nothing
,
over
that
reflection
.
"
Hullo
!
"
he
said
.
"
The
wall
is
a
looking
-
glass
!
"
"
Yes
,
a
looking
-
glass
!
"
said
the
Persian
,
in
a
tone
of
deep
emotion
And
,
passing
the
hand
that
held
the
pistol
over
his
moist
forehead
,
he
added
,
"
We
have
dropped
into
the
torture
-
chamber
!
"
What
the
Persian
knew
of
this
torture
-
chamber
and
what
there
befell
him
and
his
companion
shall
be
told
in
his
own
words
,
as
set
down
in
a
manuscript
which
he
left
behind
him
,
and
which
I
copy
VERBATIM
.
THE
PERSIAN
’
S
NARRATIVE
It
was
the
first
time
that
I
entered
the
house
on
the
lake
.
I
had
often
begged
the
"
trap
-
door
lover
,
"
as
we
used
to
call
Erik
in
my
country
,
to
open
its
mysterious
doors
to
me
.
He
always
refused
.
I
made
very
many
attempts
,
but
in
vain
,
to
obtain
admittance
.
Watch
him
as
I
might
,
after
I
first
learned
that
he
had
taken
up
his
permanent
abode
at
the
Opera
,
the
darkness
was
always
too
thick
to
enable
me
to
see
how
he
worked
the
door
in
the
wall
on
the
lake
.
One
day
,
when
I
thought
myself
alone
,
I
stepped
into
the
boat
and
rowed
toward
that
part
of
the
wall
through
which
I
had
seen
Erik
disappear
.
It
was
then
that
I
came
into
contact
with
the
siren
who
guarded
the
approach
and
whose
charm
was
very
nearly
fatal
to
me
.
I
had
no
sooner
put
off
from
the
bank
than
the
silence
amid
which
I
floated
on
the
water
was
disturbed
by
a
sort
of
whispered
singing
that
hovered
all
around
me
.
It
was
half
breath
,
half
music
;
it
rose
softly
from
the
waters
of
the
lake
;
and
I
was
surrounded
by
it
through
I
knew
not
what
artifice
.
It
followed
me
,
moved
with
me
and
was
so
soft
that
it
did
not
alarm
me
.
On
the
contrary
,
in
my
longing
to
approach
the
source
of
that
sweet
and
enticing
harmony
,
I
leaned
out
of
my
little
boat
over
the
water
,
for
there
was
no
doubt
in
my
mind
that
the
singing
came
from
the
water
itself
.
By
this
time
,
I
was
alone
in
the
boat
in
the
middle
of
the
lake
;
the
voice
—
for
it
was
now
distinctly
a
voice
—
was
beside
me
,
on
the
water
.
I
leaned
over
,
leaned
still
farther
.
