As for the pistol itself, when all is said, you can put that in
your pocket!" And he added, "Let this be clearly understood,
or I will answer for nothing. It is a matter of life and death.
And now, silence and follow me!"
The cellars of the Opera are enormous and they are five in number.
Raoul followed the Persian and wondered what he would have done
without his companion in that extraordinary labyrinth. They went
down to the third cellar; and their progress was still lit by some
distant lamp.
The lower they went, the more precautions the Persian seemed to take.
He kept on turning to Raoul to see if he was holding his arm properly,
showing him how he himself carried his hand as if always ready to fire,
though the pistol was in his pocket.
Suddenly, a loud voice made them stop. Some one above them shouted:
"All the door-shutters on the stage! The commissary of police
wants them!"
Steps were heard and shadows glided through the darkness. The Persian
drew Raoul behind a set piece. They saw passing before and above
them old men bent by age and the past burden of opera-scenery.
Some could hardly drag themselves along; others, from habit,
with stooping bodies and outstretched hands, looked for doors to shut.
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