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- Гастон Леру
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- Призрак Оперы
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- Стр. 246/258
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The
previous
chapter
marks
the
conclusion
of
the
written
narrative
which
the
Persian
left
behind
him
.
Notwithstanding
the
horrors
of
a
situation
which
seemed
definitely
to
abandon
them
to
their
deaths
,
M
.
de
Chagny
and
his
companion
were
saved
by
the
sublime
devotion
of
Christine
Daae
.
And
I
had
the
rest
of
the
story
from
the
lips
of
the
daroga
himself
.
When
I
went
to
see
him
,
he
was
still
living
in
his
little
flat
in
the
Rue
de
Rivoli
,
opposite
the
Tuileries
.
He
was
very
ill
,
and
it
required
all
my
ardor
as
an
historian
pledged
to
the
truth
to
persuade
him
to
live
the
incredible
tragedy
over
again
for
my
benefit
.
His
faithful
old
servant
Darius
showed
me
in
to
him
.
The
daroga
received
me
at
a
window
overlooking
the
garden
of
the
Tuileries
.
He
still
had
his
magnificent
eyes
,
but
his
poor
face
looked
very
worn
.
He
had
shaved
the
whole
of
his
head
,
which
was
usually
covered
with
an
astrakhan
cap
;
he
was
dressed
in
a
long
,
plain
coat
and
amused
himself
by
unconsciously
twisting
his
thumbs
inside
the
sleeves
;
but
his
mind
was
quite
clear
,
and
he
told
me
his
story
with
perfect
lucidity
.
It
seems
that
,
when
he
opened
his
eyes
,
the
daroga
found
himself
lying
on
a
bed
.
M
.
de
Chagny
was
on
a
sofa
,
beside
the
wardrobe
.
An
angel
and
a
devil
were
watching
over
them
.
After
the
deceptions
and
illusions
of
the
torture
-
chamber
,
the
precision
of
the
details
of
that
quiet
little
middle
-
class
room
seemed
to
have
been
invented
for
the
express
purpose
of
puzzling
the
mind
of
the
mortal
rash
enough
to
stray
into
that
abode
of
living
nightmare
.
The
wooden
bedstead
,
the
waxed
mahogany
chairs
,
the
chest
of
drawers
,
those
brasses
,
the
little
square
antimacassars
carefully
placed
on
the
backs
of
the
chairs
,
the
clock
on
the
mantelpiece
and
the
harmless
-
looking
ebony
caskets
at
either
end
,
lastly
,
the
whatnot
filled
with
shells
,
with
red
pin
-
cushions
,
with
mother
-
of
-
pearl
boats
and
an
enormous
ostrich
-
egg
,
the
whole
discreetly
lighted
by
a
shaded
lamp
standing
on
a
small
round
table
:
this
collection
of
ugly
,
peaceable
,
reasonable
furniture
,
AT
THE
BOTTOM
OF
THE
OPERA
CELLARS
,
bewildered
the
imagination
more
than
all
the
late
fantastic
happenings
.
And
the
figure
of
the
masked
man
seemed
all
the
more
formidable
in
this
old
-
fashioned
,
neat
and
trim
little
frame
.
It
bent
down
over
the
Persian
and
said
,
in
his
ear
:
"
Are
you
better
,
daroga
?
.
.
.
You
are
looking
at
my
furniture
?
.
.
.
It
is
all
that
I
have
left
of
my
poor
unhappy
mother
.
"
Christine
Daae
did
not
say
a
word
:
she
moved
about
noiselessly
,
like
a
sister
of
charity
,
who
had
taken
a
vow
of
silence
.
She
brought
a
cup
of
cordial
,
or
of
hot
tea
,
he
did
not
remember
which
.
The
man
in
the
mask
took
it
from
her
hands
and
gave
it
to
the
Persian
.
M
.
de
Chagny
was
still
sleeping
.
Erik
poured
a
drop
of
rum
into
the
daroga
’
s
cup
and
,
pointing
to
the
viscount
,
said
:
