Suddenly, she raised
her head and hid the sheets in her bodice....She seemed
to be listening... Raoul also listened... Whence came
that strange sound, that distant rhythm?...A faint singing
seemed to issue from the walls...yes, it was as though
the walls themselves were singing!...The song became plainer
...the words were now distinguishable...he heard a voice,
a very beautiful, very soft, very captivating voice...but,
for all its softness, it remained a male voice...The voice came
nearer and nearer...it came through the wall...it approached
...and now the voice was IN THE ROOM, in front of Christine.
Christine rose and addressed the voice, as though speaking to some one:
"Here I am, Erik," she said. "I am ready. But you are late."
Raoul, peeping from behind the curtain, could not believe his eyes,
which showed him nothing. Christine's face lit up. A smile
of happiness appeared upon her bloodless lips, a smile like that
of sick people when they receive the first hope of recovery.
The voice without a body went on singing; and certainly Raoul had
never in his life heard anything more absolutely and heroically sweet,
more gloriously insidious, more delicate, more powerful, in short,
more irresistibly triumphant.
Pages:
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153