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- Гастон Леру
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Be
message
from
me
.
.
.
"
As
she
sang
these
first
two
lines
,
with
her
bunch
of
roses
and
lilacs
in
her
hand
,
Christine
,
raising
her
head
,
saw
the
Vicomte
de
Chagny
in
his
box
;
and
,
from
that
moment
,
her
voice
seemed
less
sure
,
less
crystal
-
clear
than
usual
.
Something
seemed
to
deaden
and
dull
her
singing
.
.
.
"
What
a
queer
girl
she
is
!
"
said
one
of
Carlotta
’
s
friends
in
the
stalls
,
almost
aloud
.
"
The
other
day
she
was
divine
;
and
to
-
night
she
’
s
simply
bleating
.
She
has
no
experience
,
no
training
.
"
"
Gentle
flow
’
rs
,
lie
ye
there
And
tell
her
from
me
.
.
.
"
The
viscount
put
his
head
under
his
hands
and
wept
.
The
count
,
behind
him
,
viciously
gnawed
his
mustache
,
shrugged
his
shoulders
and
frowned
.
For
him
,
usually
so
cold
and
correct
,
to
betray
his
inner
feelings
like
that
,
by
outward
signs
,
the
count
must
be
very
angry
.
He
was
.
He
had
seen
his
brother
return
from
a
rapid
and
mysterious
journey
in
an
alarming
state
of
health
.
The
explanation
that
followed
was
unsatisfactory
and
the
count
asked
Christine
Daae
for
an
appointment
.
She
had
the
audacity
to
reply
that
she
could
not
see
either
him
or
his
brother
.
.
.
"
Would
she
but
deign
to
hear
me
And
with
one
smile
to
cheer
me
.
.
.
"
"
The
little
baggage
!
"
growled
the
count
.
