Then you can hide in
the lumber-room and you shall see Christine, who will have gone to her
dressing-room, delighted to come back by the Communists' road... And,
now, be off, for I must go and do some shopping!" To my intense astonishment, things happened as he had announced. Christine Daae left the house on the lake and returned to it several
times, without, apparently, being forced to do so. It was very
difficult for me to clear my mind of Erik. However, I resolved to be
extremely prudent, and did not make the mistake of returning to the
shore of the lake, or of going by the Communists' road. But the idea
of the secret entrance in the third cellar haunted me, and I repeatedly
went and waited for hours behind a scene from the Roi de Lahore, which
had been left there for some reason or other. At last my patience was
rewarded. One day, I saw the monster come toward me, on his knees. I
was certain that he could not see me. He passed between the scene
behind which I stood and a set piece, went to the wall and pressed on a
spring that moved a stone and afforded him an ingress. He passed
through this, and the stone closed behind him. I waited for at least thirty minutes and then pressed the spring in my
turn. Everything happened as with Erik. But I was careful not to go
through the hole myself, for I knew that Erik was inside. On the other
hand, the idea that I might be caught by Erik suddenly made me think of
the death of Joseph Buquet. I did not wish to jeopardize the
advantages of so great a discovery which might be useful to many
people, "to a goodly number of the human race," in Erik's words; and I
left the cellars of the Opera after carefully replacing the stone. I continued to be greatly interested in the relations between Erik and
Christine Daae, not from any morbid curiosity, but because of the
terrible thought which obsessed my mind that Erik was capable of
anything, if he once discovered that he was not loved for his own sake,
as he imagined. I continued to wander, very cautiously, about the
Opera and soon learned the truth about the monster's dreary love-affair. He filled Christine's mind, through the terror with which he inspired
her, but the dear child's heart belonged wholly to the Vicomte Raoul de
Chagny. While they played about, like an innocent engaged couple, on
the upper floors of the Opera, to avoid the monster, they little
suspected that some one was watching over them. I was prepared to do
anything:  to kill the monster, if necessary, and explain to the police
afterward. But Erik did not show himself; and I felt none the more
comfortable for that. I must explain my whole plan. I thought that the monster, being driven
from his house by jealousy, would thus enable me to enter it, without
danger, through the passage in the third cellar. It was important, for
everybody's sake, that I should know exactly what was inside. One day,
tired of waiting for an opportunity, I moved the stone and at once
heard an astounding music: the monster was working at his Don Juan
Triumphant, with every door in his house wide open. I knew that this
was the work of his life. I was careful not to stir and remained
prudently in my dark hole. He stopped playing, for a moment, and began walking about his place,
like a madman. And he said aloud, at the top of his voice:

"It must be finished FIRST! Quite finished!" This speech was not calculated to reassure me and, when the music
recommenced, I closed the stone very softly. On the day of the abduction of Christine Daae, I did not come to the
theater until rather late in the evening, trembling lest I should hear
bad news. I had spent a horrible day, for, after reading in a morning
paper the announcement of a forthcoming marriage between Christine and
the Vicomte de Chagny, I wondered whether, after all, I should not do
better to denounce the monster. But reason returned to me, and I was
persuaded that this action could only precipitate a possible
catastrophe. When, my cab set me down before the Opera, I was really almost
astonished to see it still standing! But I am something of a fatalist,
like all good Orientals, and I entered ready, for anything. Christine Daae's abduction in the Prison Act, which naturally surprised
everybody, found me prepared. I was quite certain that she had been
juggled away by Erik, that prince of conjurers. And I thought
positively that this was the end of Christine and perhaps of everybody,
so much so that I thought of advising all these people who were staying
on at the theater to make good their escape. I felt, however, that
they would be sure to look upon me as mad and I refrained. On the other hand, I resolved to act without further delay, as far as I
was concerned. The chances were in my favor that Erik, at that moment,
was thinking only of his captive. This was the moment to enter his
house through the third cellar; and I resolved to take with me that
poor little desperate viscount, who, at the first suggestion, accepted,
with an amount of confidence in myself that touched me profoundly. I
had sent my servant for my pistols. I gave one to the viscount and
advised him to hold himself ready to fire, for, after all, Erik might
be waiting for us behind the wall. We were to go by the Communists'
road and through the trap-door. Seeing my pistols, the little viscount asked me if we were going to
fight a duel. I said:

"Yes; and what a duel!" But, of course, I had no time to explain
anything to him. The little viscount is a brave fellow, but he knew
hardly anything about his adversary; and it was so much the better. My
great fear was that he was already somewhere near us, preparing the
Punjab lasso. No one knows better than he how to throw the Punjab
lasso, for he is the king of stranglers even as he is the prince of
conjurors. When he had finished making the little sultana laugh, at
the time of the "rosy hours of Mazenderan," she herself used to ask him
to amuse her by giving her a thrill. It was then that he introduced
the sport of the Punjab lasso. He had lived in India and acquired an incredible skill in the art of
strangulation. He would make them lock him into a courtyard to which
they brought a warrior--usually, a man condemned to death--armed with a
long pike and broadsword. Erik had only his lasso; and it was always
just when the warrior thought that he was going to fell Erik with a
tremendous blow that we heard the lasso whistle through the air. With
a turn of the wrist, Erik tightened the noose round his adversary's
neck and, in this fashion, dragged him before the little sultana and
her women, who sat looking from a window and applauding. The little
sultana herself learned to wield the Punjab lasso and killed several of
her women and even of the friends who visited her. But I prefer to
drop this terrible subject of the rosy hours of Mazenderan.