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And
he
wondered
what
she
wanted
.
What
she
was
hoping
for
.
.
.
She
was
a
virtuous
girl
,
she
was
said
to
have
no
friend
,
no
protector
of
any
sort
.
.
.
That
angel
from
the
North
must
be
very
artful
!
Raoul
,
behind
the
curtain
of
his
hands
that
veiled
his
boyish
tears
,
thought
only
of
the
letter
which
he
received
on
his
return
to
Paris
,
where
Christine
,
fleeing
from
Perros
like
a
thief
in
the
night
,
had
arrived
before
him
:
MY
DEAR
LITTLE
PLAYFELLOW
:
You
must
have
the
courage
not
to
see
me
again
,
not
to
speak
of
me
again
.
If
you
love
me
just
a
little
,
do
this
for
me
,
for
me
who
will
never
forget
you
,
my
dear
Raoul
.
My
life
depends
upon
it
.
Your
life
depends
upon
it
.
YOUR
LITTLE
CHRISTINE
.
Thunders
of
applause
.
Carlotta
made
her
entrance
.
"
I
wish
I
could
but
know
who
was
he
That
addressed
me
,
If
he
was
noble
,
or
,
at
least
,
what
his
name
is
.
.
.
"
When
Margarita
had
finished
singing
the
ballad
of
the
KING
OF
THULE
,
she
was
loudly
cheered
and
again
when
she
came
to
the
end
of
the
jewel
song
:
