"
The viscount threw up his arms with a gesture of despair.
"The genius gives her lessons!...And where, pray?"
"Now that she has gone away with him, I can't say; but, up to a fortnight
ago, it was in Christine's dressing-room. It would be impossible in this
little flat. The whole house would hear them. Whereas, at the Opera,
at eight o'clock in the morning, there is no one about, do you see!"
"Yes, I see! I see!" cried the viscount.
And he hurriedly took leave of Mme. Valerius, who asked herself
if the young nobleman was not a little off his head.
He walked home to his brother's house in a pitiful state.
He could have struck himself, banged his head against the walls!
To think that he had believed in her innocence, in her purity!
The Angel of Music! He knew him now! He saw him! It was beyond
a doubt some unspeakable tenor, a good-looking jackanapes, who mouthed
and simpered as he sang! He thought himself as absurd and as wretched
as could be. Oh, what a miserable, little, insignificant, silly young
man was M. le Vicomte de Chagny! thought Raoul, furiously. And she,
what a bold and damnable sly creature!
His brother was waiting for him and Raoul fell into his arms,
like a child.
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