They both turned round and saw that night had fallen. Raoul made a movement as though to rise, but Christine kept him beside
her. "Don't go," she said. "I want you to know everything HERE!" "But why here, Christine? I am afraid of your catching cold." "We have nothing to fear except the trap-doors, dear, and here we are
miles away from the trap-doors ... and I am not allowed to see you
outside the theater. This is not the time to annoy him. We must not
arouse his suspicion." "Christine! Christine! Something tells me that we are wrong to wait
till to-morrow evening and that we ought to fly at once." "I tell you that, if he does not hear me sing tomorrow, it will cause
him infinite pain." "It is difficult not to cause him pain and yet to escape from him for
good." "You are right in that, Raoul, for certainly he will die of my flight." And she added in a dull voice, "But then it counts both ways ...  for
we risk his killing us." "Does he love you so much?" "He would commit murder for me." "But one can find out where he lives. One can go in search of him. Now that we know that Erik is not a ghost, one can speak to him and
force him to answer!" Christine shook her head. "No, no! There is nothing to be done with Erik except to run away!" "Then why, when you were able to run away, did you go back to him?" "Because I had to. And you will understand that when I tell you how I
left him." "Oh, I hate him!" cried Raoul. "And you, Christine, tell me, do you
hate him too?" "No," said Christine simply. "No, of course not ...  Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all
of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind
which people do not admit even to themselves," said Raoul bitterly. "The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it...  Picture it:
a man who lives in a palace underground!" And he gave a leer. "Then you want me to go back there?" said the young girl cruelly. "Take care, Raoul; I have told you:  I should never return!" There was an appalling silence between the three of them: the two who
spoke and the shadow that listened, behind them. "Before answering that," said Raoul, at last, speaking very slowly, "I
should like to know with what feeling he inspires you, since you do not
hate him." "With horror!" she said. "That is the terrible thing about it. He
fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think of Erik at my feet, in the house on the lake, underground. He
accuses himself, he curses himself, he implores my forgiveness! ... He
confesses his cheat. He loves me! He lays at my feet an immense and
tragic love... He has carried me off for love! ... He has imprisoned
me with him, underground, for love! ... But he respects me:  he crawls,
he moans, he weeps! ... And, when I stood up, Raoul, and told him that
I could only despise him if he did not, then and there, give me my
liberty ... he offered it ... he offered to show me the mysterious road
... Only ... only he rose too ... and I was made to remember that,
though he was not an angel, nor a ghost, nor a genius, he remained the
voice ... for he sang. And I listened ... and stayed! ... That night,
we did not exchange another word. He sang me to sleep. "When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished
little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp
standing on the marble top of an old Louis-Philippe chest of drawers. I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from
my room led to a very comfortable bath-room. On returning to the
bedroom, I saw on the chest of drawers a note, in red ink, which said,
'My dear Christine, you need have no concern as to your fate. You have
no better nor more respectful friend in the world than myself. You are
alone, at present, in this home which is yours. I am going out
shopping to fetch you all the things that you can need.' I felt sure
that I had fallen into the hands of a madman. I ran round my little
apartment, looking for a way of escape which I could not find. I
upbraided myself for my absurd superstition, which had caused me to
fall into the trap. I felt inclined to laugh and to cry at the same
time. "This was the state of mind in which Erik found me. After giving three
taps on the wall, he walked in quietly through a door which I had not
noticed and which he left open. He had his arms full of boxes and
parcels and arranged them on the bed, in a leisurely fashion, while I
overwhelmed him with abuse and called upon him to take off his mask, if
it covered the face of an honest man. He replied serenely, 'You shall
never see Erik's face.' And he reproached me with not having finished
dressing at that time of day: he was good enough to tell me that it was
two o'clock in the afternoon. He said he would give me half an hour
and, while he spoke, wound up my watch and set it for me. After which,
he asked me to come to the dining-room, where a nice lunch was waiting
for us. "I was very angry, slammed the door in his face and went to the
bath-room ... When I came out again, feeling greatly refreshed, Erik
said that he loved me, but that he would never tell me so except when I
allowed him and that the rest of the time would be devoted to music. 'What do you mean by the rest of the time?' I asked. 'Five days,' he
said, with decision. I asked him if I should then be free and he said,
'You will be free, Christine, for, when those five days are past, you
will have learned not to see me; and then, from time to time, you will
come to see your poor Erik!' He pointed to a chair opposite him, at a
small table, and I sat down, feeling greatly perturbed. However, I ate
a few prawns and the wing of a chicken and drank half a glass of tokay,
which he had himself, he told me, brought from the Konigsberg cellars. Erik did not eat or drink. I asked him what his nationality was and if
that name of Erik did not point to his Scandinavian origin. He said
that he had no name and no country and that he had taken the name of
Erik by accident. "After lunch, he rose and gave me the tips of his fingers, saying he
would like to show me over his flat; but I snatched away my hand and
gave a cry. What I had touched was cold and, at the same time, bony;
and I remembered that his hands smelt of death. 'Oh, forgive me!' he
moaned. And he opened a door before me. 'This is my bedroom, if you
care to see it. It is rather curious.' His manners, his words, his
attitude gave me confidence and I went in without hesitation. I felt
as if I were entering the room of a dead person. The walls were all
hung with black, but, instead of the white trimmings that usually set
off that funereal upholstery, there was an enormous stave of music with
the notes of the DIES IRAE, many times repeated. In the middle of the
room was a canopy, from which hung curtains of red brocaded stuff, and,
under the canopy, an open coffin. 'That is where I sleep,' said Erik. 'One has to get used to everything in life, even to eternity.'