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"
Fate
links
thee
to
me
for
ever
and
a
day
!
"
Christine
walked
toward
her
image
in
the
glass
and
the
image
came
toward
her
.
The
two
Christines
—
the
real
one
and
the
reflection
—
ended
by
touching
;
and
Raoul
put
out
his
arms
to
clasp
the
two
in
one
embrace
.
But
,
by
a
sort
of
dazzling
miracle
that
sent
him
staggering
,
Raoul
was
suddenly
flung
back
,
while
an
icy
blast
swept
over
his
face
;
he
saw
,
not
two
,
but
four
,
eight
,
twenty
Christines
spinning
round
him
,
laughing
at
him
and
fleeing
so
swiftly
that
he
could
not
touch
one
of
them
.
At
last
,
everything
stood
still
again
;
and
he
saw
himself
in
the
glass
.
But
Christine
had
disappeared
.
He
rushed
up
to
the
glass
.
He
struck
at
the
walls
.
Nobody
!
And
meanwhile
the
room
still
echoed
with
a
distant
passionate
singing
:
"
Fate
links
thee
to
me
for
ever
and
a
day
!
"
Which
way
,
which
way
had
Christine
gone
?
.
.
.
Which
way
would
she
return
?
.
.
.
Would
she
return
?
Alas
,
had
she
not
declared
to
him
that
everything
was
finished
?
And
was
the
voice
not
repeating
:
"
Fate
links
thee
to
me
for
ever
and
a
day
!
"
To
me
?
To
whom
?
Then
,
worn
out
,
beaten
,
empty
-
brained
,
he
sat
down
on
the
chair
which
Christine
had
just
left
Like
her
,
he
let
his
head
fall
into
his
hands
.
When
he
raised
it
,
the
tears
were
streaming
down
his
young
cheeks
,
real
,
heavy
tears
like
those
which
jealous
children
shed
,
tears
that
wept
for
a
sorrow
which
was
in
no
way
fanciful
,
but
which
is
common
to
all
the
lovers
on
earth
and
which
he
expressed
aloud
:
