I am very fond of you, M. Raoul,
you know. And so is Christine too!"
"She is fond of me!" sighed the young man. He found a difficulty
in collecting his thoughts and bringing them to bear on Mamma Valerius'
"good genius," on the Angel of Music of whom Christine had spoken
to him so strangely, on the death's head which he had seen in a sort
of nightmare on the high altar at Perros and also on the Opera ghost,
whose fame had come to his ears one evening when he was standing
behind the scenes, within hearing of a group of scene-shifters
who were repeating the ghastly description which the hanged man,
Joseph Buquet, had given of the ghost before his mysterious death.
He asked in a low voice: "What makes you think that Christine
is fond of me, madame?"
"She used to speak of you every day."
"Really?...And what did she tell you?"
"She told me that you had made her a proposal!"
And the good old lady began laughing wholeheartedly. Raoul sprang
from his chair, flushing to the temples, suffering agonies.
"What's this? Where are you going? Sit down again at once,
will you?...Do you think I will let you go like that?.
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