Wait, don't move,
I will release you ...  You have only one word to say:  'NO!' And it
will at once be over WITH EVERYBODY! ... You are right, you are right;
why wait till eleven o'clock to-morrow evening? True, it would have
been grander, finer ... But that is childish nonsense ...  We should
only think of ourselves in this life, of our own death ... the rest
doesn't matter...  YOU'RE LOOKING AT ME BECAUSE I AM ALL WET? ...  Oh,
my dear, it's raining cats and dogs outside! ... Apart from that,
Christine, I think I am subject to hallucinations ...  You know, the
man who rang at the siren's door just now--go and look if he's ringing
at the bottom of the lake-well, he was rather like... There, turn
round ... are you glad? You're free now...  Oh, my poor Christine,
look at your wrists:  tell me, have I hurt them? ... That alone
deserves death ...  Talking of death, I MUST SING HIS REQUIEM!" Hearing these terrible remarks, I received an awful presentiment ... I
too had once rung at the monster's door ... and, without knowing it,
must have set some warning current in motion. And I remembered the two arms that had emerged from the inky waters...
What poor wretch had strayed to that shore this time? Who was 'the
other one,' the one whose requiem we now heard sung? Erik sang like the god of thunder, sang a DIES IRAE that enveloped us
as in a storm. The elements seemed to rage around us. Suddenly, the
organ and the voice ceased so suddenly that M. de Chagny sprang back,
on the other side of the wall, with emotion. And the voice, changed
and transformed, distinctly grated out these metallic syllables: "WHAT
HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BAG?" Chapter XXIII  The Tortures Begin


THE PERSIAN'S NARRATIVE CONTINUED. The voice repeated angrily:  "What have you done with my bag? So it
was to take my bag that you asked me to release you!" We heard hurried steps, Christine running back to the Louis-Philippe
room, as though to seek shelter on the other side of our wall. "What are you running away for?" asked the furious voice, which had
followed her. "Give me back my bag, will you? Don't you know that it
is the bag of life and death?" "Listen to me, Erik," sighed the girl. "As it is settled that we are
to live together ... what difference can it make to you?" "You know there are only two keys in it," said the monster. "What do
you want to do?" "I want to look at this room which I have never seen and which you have
always kept from me ... It's woman's curiosity!" she said, in a tone
which she tried to render playful. But the trick was too childish for Erik to be taken in by it. "I don't like curious women," he retorted, "and you had better remember
the story of BLUE-BEARD and be careful ...  Come, give me back my bag! ... Give me back my bag! ... Leave the key alone, will you, you
inquisitive little thing?" And he chuckled, while Christine gave a cry of pain. Erik had
evidently recovered the bag from her. At that moment, the viscount could not help uttering an exclamation of
impotent rage. "Why, what's that?" said the monster. "Did you hear, Christine?" "No, no," replied the poor girl. "I heard nothing." "I thought I heard a cry." "A cry! Are you going mad, Erik? Whom do you expect to give a cry, in
this house? ... I cried out, because you hurt me! I heard nothing." "I don't like the way you said that! ... You're trembling...  You're
quite excited ...  You're lying! ... That was a cry, there was a cry! ... There is some one in the torture-chamber! ...  Ah, I understand
now!" "There is no one there, Erik!" "I understand!" "No one!" "The man you want to marry, perhaps!" "I don't want to marry anybody, you know I don't." Another nasty chuckle. "Well, it won't take long to find out. Christine, my love, we need not open the door to see what is happening
in the torture-chamber. Would you like to see? Would you like to see? Look here! If there is some one, if there is really some one there,
you will see the invisible window light up at the top, near the
ceiling. We need only draw the black curtain and put out the light in
here. There, that's it ...  Let's put out the light! You're not
afraid of the dark, when you're with your little husband!" Then we heard Christine's voice of anguish:

"No! ... I'm frightened! ... I tell you, I'm afraid of the dark! ... I
don't care about that room now ...  You're always frightening me, like
a child, with your torture-chamber! ... And so I became inquisitive... But I don't care about it now ... not a bit ... not a bit!" And that which I feared above all things began, AUTOMATICALLY. We were
suddenly flooded with light! Yes, on our side of the wall, everything
seemed aglow. The Vicomte de Chagny was so much taken aback that he
staggered. And the angry voice roared:

"I told you there was some one! Do you see the window now? The
lighted window, right up there? The man behind the wall can't see it! But you shall go up the folding steps:  that is what they are there
for! ... You have often asked me to tell you; and now you know! ... They are there to give a peep into the torture-chamber ... you
inquisitive little thing!" "What tortures? ... Who is being tortured? ... Erik, Erik, say you are
only trying to frighten me! ... Say it, if you love me, Erik! ... There
are no tortures, are there?" "Go and look at the little window, dear!" I do not know if the viscount heard the girl's swooning voice, for he
was too much occupied by the astounding spectacle that now appeared
before his distracted gaze. As for me, I had seen that sight too
often, through the little window, at the time of the rosy hours of
Mazenderan; and I cared only for what was being said next door, seeking
for a hint how to act, what resolution to take. "Go and peep through the little window! Tell me what he looks like!" We heard the steps being dragged against the wall. "Up with you! ... No! ... No, I will go up myself, dear!" "Oh, very well, I will go up. Let me go!" "Oh, my darling, my darling! ... How sweet of you! ... How nice of you
to save me the exertion at my age! ... Tell me what he looks like!" At that moment, we distinctly heard these words above our heads:

"There is no one there, dear!" "No one? ... Are you sure there is no one?" "Why, of course not ... no one!" "Well, that's all right! ... What's the matter, Christine? You're not
going to faint, are you ... as there is no one there? ... Here ...
come down ... there! ... Pull yourself together ... as there is no one
there! ... BUT HOW DO YOU LIKE THE LANDSCAPE?" "Oh, very much!" "There, that's better! ... You're better now, are you not? ...  That's
all right, you're better! ... No excitement! ... And what a funny
house, isn't it, with landscapes like that in it?" "Yes, it's like the Musee Grevin ... But, say, Erik ... there are no
tortures in there! ... What a fright you gave me!" "Why ... as there is no one there?" "Did you design that room? It's very handsome. You're a great artist,
Erik." "Yes, a great artist, in my own line."