.."
As she sang these first two lines, with her bunch of roses and lilacs
in her hand, Christine, raising her head, saw the Vicomte de Chagny
in his box; and, from that moment, her voice seemed less sure,
less crystal-clear than usual. Something seemed to deaden and dull
her singing. ...
"What a queer girl she is!" said one of Carlotta's friends
in the stalls, almost aloud. "The other day she was divine;
and to-night she's simply bleating. She has no experience, no training."
"Gentle flow'rs, lie ye there
And tell her from me..."
The viscount put his head under his hands and wept. The count, behind
him, viciously gnawed his mustache, shrugged his shoulders and frowned.
For him, usually so cold and correct, to betray his inner feelings
like that, by outward signs, the count must be very angry. He was.
He had seen his brother return from a rapid and mysterious journey
in an alarming state of health. The explanation that followed was
unsatisfactory and the count asked Christine Daae for an appointment.
She had the audacity to reply that she could not see either him
or his brother.
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