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- Гастон Леру
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- Призрак Оперы
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"
No
,
she
did
not
ask
for
him
;
and
,
as
we
trust
her
,
we
took
her
word
.
"
Raoul
left
the
building
a
prey
to
the
gloomiest
thoughts
.
He
resolved
,
come
what
might
,
to
go
and
inquire
of
Mamma
Valerius
.
He
remembered
the
strong
phrases
in
Christine
’
s
letter
,
forbidding
him
to
make
any
attempt
to
see
her
.
But
what
he
had
seen
at
Perros
,
what
he
had
heard
behind
the
dressing
-
room
door
,
his
conversation
with
Christine
at
the
edge
of
the
moor
made
him
suspect
some
machination
which
,
devilish
though
it
might
be
,
was
none
the
less
human
.
The
girl
’
s
highly
strung
imagination
,
her
affectionate
and
credulous
mind
,
the
primitive
education
which
had
surrounded
her
childhood
with
a
circle
of
legends
,
the
constant
brooding
over
her
dead
father
and
,
above
all
,
the
state
of
sublime
ecstasy
into
which
music
threw
her
from
the
moment
that
this
art
was
made
manifest
to
her
in
certain
exceptional
conditions
,
as
in
the
churchyard
at
Perros
;
all
this
seemed
to
him
to
constitute
a
moral
ground
only
too
favorable
for
the
malevolent
designs
of
some
mysterious
and
unscrupulous
person
.
Of
whom
was
Christine
Daae
the
victim
?
This
was
the
very
reasonable
question
which
Raoul
put
to
himself
as
he
hurried
off
to
Mamma
Valerius
.
He
trembled
as
he
rang
at
a
little
flat
in
the
Rue
Notre
-
Dame
-
des
-
Victoires
.
The
door
was
opened
by
the
maid
whom
he
had
seen
coming
out
of
Christine
’
s
dressing
-
room
one
evening
.
He
asked
if
he
could
speak
to
Mme
.
Valerius
.
He
was
told
that
she
was
ill
in
bed
and
was
not
receiving
visitors
.
"
Take
in
my
card
,
please
,
"
he
said
.
The
maid
soon
returned
and
showed
him
into
a
small
and
scantily
furnished
drawing
-
room
,
in
which
portraits
of
Professor
Valerius
and
old
Daae
hung
on
opposite
walls
.
"
Madame
begs
Monsieur
le
Vicomte
to
excuse
her
,
"
said
the
servant
.
"
She
can
only
see
him
in
her
bedroom
,
because
she
can
no
longer
stand
on
her
poor
legs
.
"
Five
minutes
later
,
Raoul
was
ushered
into
an
ill
-
lit
room
where
he
at
once
recognized
the
good
,
kind
face
of
Christine
’
s
benefactress
in
the
semi
-
darkness
of
an
alcove
.
Mamma
Valerius
’
hair
was
now
quite
white
,
but
her
eyes
had
grown
no
older
;
never
,
on
the
contrary
,
had
their
expression
been
so
bright
,
so
pure
,
so
child
-
like
.
"
M
.
de
Chagny
!
"
she
cried
gaily
,
putting
out
both
her
hands
to
her
visitor
.
"
Ah
,
it
’
s
Heaven
that
sends
you
here
!
.
.
.
We
can
talk
of
HER
.
"
