But the men were not out of earshot before the
count's valet heard Raoul say, distinctly and emphatically:

"I shall carry off Christine Daae to-night." This phrase was afterward repeated to M. Faure, the
examining-magistrate. But no one ever knew exactly what passed between
the two brothers at this interview. The servants declared that this
was not their first quarrel. Their voices penetrated the wall; and it
was always an actress called Christine Daae that was in question. At breakfast--the early morning breakfast, which the count took in his
study--Philippe sent for his brother. Raoul arrived silent and gloomy. The scene was a very short one. Philippe handed his brother a copy of
the Epoque and said:

"Read that!" The viscount read:

"The latest news in the Faubourg is that there is a promise of marriage
between Mlle. Christine Daae, the opera-singer, and M. le Vicomte Raoul
de Chagny. If the gossips are to be credited, Count Philippe has sworn
that, for the first time on record, the Chagnys shall not keep their
promise. But, as love is all-powerful, at the Opera as--and even more
than--elsewhere, we wonder how Count Philippe intends to prevent the
viscount, his brother, from leading the new Margarita to the altar. The two brothers are said to adore each other; but the count is
curiously mistaken if he imagines that brotherly love will triumph over
love pure and simple." "You see, Raoul," said the count, "you are making us ridiculous! That
little girl has turned your head with her ghost-stories." The viscount had evidently repeated Christine's narrative to his
brother, during the night. All that he now said was:

"Good-by, Philippe." "Have you quite made up your mind? You are going to-night? With her?" No reply. "Surely you will not do anything so foolish? I SHALL know how to
prevent you!" "Good-by, Philippe," said the viscount again and left the room. This scene was described to the examining-magistrate by the count
himself, who did not see Raoul again until that evening, at the Opera,
a few minutes before Christine's disappearance. Raoul, in fact, devoted the whole day to his preparations for the
flight. The horses, the carriage, the coachman, the provisions, the
luggage, the money required for the journey, the road to be taken (he
had resolved not to go by train, so as to throw the ghost off the
scent): all this had to be settled and provided for; and it occupied
him until nine o'clock at night. At nine o'clock, a sort of traveling-barouche with the curtains of its
windows close-down, took its place in the rank on the Rotunda side. It
was drawn by two powerful horses driven by a coachman whose face was
almost concealed in the long folds of a muffler. In front of this
traveling-carriage were three broughams, belonging respectively to
Carlotta, who had suddenly returned to Paris, to Sorelli and, at the
head of the rank, to Comte Philippe de Chagny. No one left the
barouche. The coachman remained on his box, and the three other
coachmen remained on theirs. A shadow in a long black cloak and a soft black felt hat passed along
the pavement between the Rotunda and the carriages, examined the
barouche carefully, went up to the horses and the coachman and then
moved away without saying a word, The magistrate afterward believed
that this shadow was that of the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny; but I do not
agree, seeing that that evening, as every evening, the Vicomte de
Chagny was wearing a tall hat, which hat, besides, was subsequently
found. I am more inclined to think that the shadow was that of the
ghost, who knew all about the whole affair, as the reader will soon
perceive. They were giving FAUST, as it happened, before a splendid house. The
Faubourg was magnificently represented; and the paragraph in that
morning's EPOQUE had already produced its effect, for all eyes were
turned to the box in which Count Philippe sat alone, apparently in a
very indifferent and careless frame of mind. The feminine element in
the brilliant audience seemed curiously puzzled; and the viscount's
absence gave rise to any amount of whispering behind the fans. Christine Daae met with a rather cold reception. That special audience
could not forgive her for aiming so high. The singer noticed this unfavorable attitude of a portion of the house
and was confused by it. The regular frequenters of the Opera, who pretended to know the truth
about the viscount's love-story, exchanged significant smiles at
certain passages in Margarita's part; and they made a show of turning
and looking at Philippe de Chagny's box when Christine sang:

        "I wish I could but know who was he
        That addressed me,
        If he was noble, or, at least, what his name is." The count sat with his chin on his hand and seemed to pay no attention
to these manifestations. He kept his eyes fixed on the stage; but his
thoughts appeared to be far away. Christine lost her self-assurance more and more. She trembled. She
felt on the verge of a breakdown ...  Carolus Fonta wondered if she was
ill, if she could keep the stage until the end of the Garden Act. In
the front of the house, people remembered the catastrophe that had
befallen Carlotta at the end of that act and the historic "co-ack"
which had momentarily interrupted her career in Paris. Just then, Carlotta made her entrance in a box facing the stage, a
sensational entrance. Poor Christine raised her eyes upon this fresh
subject of excitement. She recognized her rival. She thought she saw
a sneer on her lips. That saved her. She forgot everything, in order
to triumph once more. From that moment the prima donna sang with all her heart and soul. She
tried to surpass all that she had done till then; and she succeeded. In the last act when she began the invocation to the angels, she made
all the members of the audience feel as though they too had wings. In the center of the amphitheater a man stood up and remained standing,
facing the singer. It was Raoul. "Holy angel, in Heaven blessed ..."

And Christine, her arms outstretched, her throat filled with music, the
glory of her hair falling over her bare shoulders, uttered the divine
cry:

"My spirit longs with thee to rest!" It was at that moment that the stage was suddenly plunged in darkness. It happened so quickly that the spectators hardly had time to utter a
sound of stupefaction, for the gas at once lit up the stage again. But
Christine Daae was no longer there! What had become of her? What was that miracle? All exchanged glances
without understanding, and the excitement at once reached its height. Nor was the tension any less great on the stage itself. Men rushed
from the wings to the spot where Christine had been singing that very
instant. The performance was interrupted amid the greatest disorder. Where had Christine gone? What witchcraft had snatched her, away
before the eyes of thousands of enthusiastic onlookers and from the
arms of Carolus Fonta himself?