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This
last
sentence
sounded
very
gloomily
in
the
young
man
’
s
ears
.
He
at
once
asked
:
"
Madame
.
.
.
where
is
Christine
?
"
And
the
old
lady
replied
calmly
:
"
She
is
with
her
good
genius
!
"
"
What
good
genius
?
"
exclaimed
poor
Raoul
.
"
Why
,
the
Angel
of
Music
!
"
The
viscount
dropped
into
a
chair
.
Really
?
Christine
was
with
the
Angel
of
Music
?
And
there
lay
Mamma
Valerius
in
bed
,
smiling
to
him
and
putting
her
finger
to
her
lips
,
to
warn
him
to
be
silent
!
And
she
added
:
"
You
must
not
tell
anybody
!
"
"
You
can
rely
on
me
,
"
said
Raoul
.
He
hardly
knew
what
he
was
saying
,
for
his
ideas
about
Christine
,
already
greatly
confused
,
were
becoming
more
and
more
entangled
;
and
it
seemed
as
if
everything
was
beginning
to
turn
around
him
,
around
the
room
,
around
that
extraordinary
good
lady
with
the
white
hair
and
forget
-
me
-
not
eyes
.
