Nevertheless, I had sufficient
lucidity left to understand that, if the grasshopper were turned,
it would hop...and with it many members of the human race!
There was no doubt but that the grasshopper controlled an electric
current intended to blow up the powder-magazine!
M. de Chagny, who seemed to have recovered all his moral force
from hearing Christine's voice, explained to her, in a few
hurried words, the situation in which we and all the Opera were.
He told her to turn the scorpion at once.
There was a pause.
"Christine," I cried, "where are you?"
"By the scorpion."
"Don't touch it!"
The idea had come to me--for I knew my Erik--that the monster had
perhaps deceived the girl once more. Perhaps it was the scorpion
that would blow everything up. After all, why wasn't he there?
The five minutes were long past...and he was not back.
...Perhaps he had taken shelter and was waiting for the explosion!
...Why had he not returned?...He could not really expect
Christine ever to consent to become his voluntary prey!...Why
had he not returned?
"Don't touch the scorpion!" I said.
"Here he comes!" cried Christine.
Pages:
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364