"And, if she does love that man, Monsieur le Vicomte, even then it
is no business of yours!"
"Alas, madame," Raoul humbly replied, unable to restrain his tears,
"alas, I believe that Christine really does love him!...But
it is not only that which drives me to despair; for what I am not
certain of, madame, is that the man whom Christine loves is worthy
of her love!"
"It is for me to be the judge of that, monsieur!" said Christine,
looking Raoul angrily in the face.
"When a man," continued Raoul, "adopts such romantic methods
to entice a young girl's affections. .."
"The man must be either a villain, or the girl a fool: is that it?"
"Christine!"
"Raoul, why do you condemn a man whom you have never seen,
whom no one knows and about whom you yourself know nothing?"
"Yes, Christine....Yes....I at least know the name
that you thought to keep from me for ever....The name
of your Angel of Music, mademoiselle, is Erik!"
Christine at once betrayed herself. She turned as white as a sheet
and stammered: "Who told you?"
"You yourself!"
"How do you mean?"
"By pitying him the other night, the night of the masked ball.
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