The Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux (bill gates best books .TXT) 📗

“Perhaps he has left Christine behind the wall.”

And we thought only of the possibility of warning Christine Daaé of our presence, unknown to the monster. We were unable to leave the torture-chamber now, unless Christine opened the door to us; and it was only on this condition that we could hope to help her, for we did not even know where the door might be.

Suddenly, the silence in the next room was disturbed by the ringing of an electric bell. There was a bound on the other side of the wall and Erik’s voice of thunder:

“Somebody ringing! Walk in, please!”

A sinister chuckle.

“Who has come bothering now? Wait for me here.⁠ ⁠… I am going to tell the siren to open the door.”

Steps moved away, a door closed. I had no time to think of the fresh horror that was preparing; I forgot that the monster was only going out perhaps to perpetrate a fresh crime; I understood but one thing: Christine was alone behind the wall!

The Vicomte de Chagny was already calling to her:

“Christine! Christine!”

As we could hear what was said in the next room, there was no reason why my companion should not be heard in his turn. Nevertheless, the viscount had to repeat his cry time after time.

At last, a faint voice reached us.

“I am dreaming!” it said.

“Christine, Christine, it is I, Raoul!”

A silence.

“But answer me, Christine!⁠ ⁠… In Heaven’s name, if you are alone, answer me!”

Then Christine’s voice whispered Raoul’s name.

“Yes! Yes! It is I! It is not a dream!⁠ ⁠… Christine, trust me!⁠ ⁠… We are here to save you⁠ ⁠… but be prudent! When you hear the monster, warn us!”

Then Christine gave way to fear. She trembled lest Erik should discover where Raoul was hidden; she told us in a few hurried words that Erik had gone quite mad with love and that he had decided to kill everybody and himself with everybody if she did not consent to become his wife. He had given her till eleven o’clock the next evening for reflection. It was the last respite. She must choose, as he said, between the wedding mass and the requiem.

And Erik had then uttered a phrase which Christine did not quite understand:

“Yes or no! If your answer is no, everybody will be dead and buried!”

But I understood the sentence perfectly, for it corresponded in a terrible manner with my own dreadful thought.

“Can you tell us where Erik is?” I asked.

She replied that he must have left the house.

“Could you make sure?”

“No. I am fastened. I can not stir a limb.”

When we heard this, M. de Chagny and I gave a yell of fury. Our safety, the safety of all three of us, depended on the girl’s liberty of movement.

“But where are you?” asked Christine. “There are only two doors in my room, the Louis-Philippe room of which I told you, Raoul; a door through which Erik comes and goes, and another which he has never opened before me and which he has forbidden me ever to go through, because he says it is the most dangerous of the doors, the door of the torture-chamber!”

“Christine, that is where we are!”

“You are in the torture-chamber?”

“Yes, but we can not see the door.”

“Oh, if I could only drag myself so far! I would knock at the door and that would tell you where it is.”

“Is it a door with a lock to it?” I asked.

“Yes, with a lock.”

“Mademoiselle,” I said, “it is absolutely necessary that you should open that door to us!”

“But how?” asked the poor girl tearfully.

We heard her straining, trying to free herself from the bonds that held her.

“I know where the key is,” she said, in a voice that seemed exhausted by the effort she had made. “But I am fastened so tight.⁠ ⁠… Oh, the wretch!”

And she gave a sob.

“Where is the key?” I asked, signing to M. de Chagny not to speak and to leave the business to me, for we had not a moment to lose.

“In the next room, near the organ, with another little bronze key, which he also forbade me to touch. They are both in a little leather bag which he calls the bag of life and death.⁠ ⁠… Raoul! Raoul! Fly! Everything is mysterious and terrible here, and Erik will soon have gone quite mad, and you are in the torture-chamber!⁠ ⁠… Go back by the way you came. There must be a reason why the room is called by that name!”

“Christine,” said the young man, “we will go from here together or die together!”

“We must keep cool,” I whispered. “Why has he fastened you, mademoiselle? You can’t escape from his house; and he knows it!”

“I tried to commit suicide! The monster went out last night, after carrying me here fainting and half chloroformed. He was going to his banker, so he said!⁠ ⁠… When he returned he found me with my face covered with blood.⁠ ⁠… I had tried to kill myself by striking my forehead against the walls.”

“Christine!” groaned Raoul; and he began to sob.

“Then he bound me.⁠ ⁠… I am not allowed to die until eleven o’clock tomorrow evening.”

“Mademoiselle,” I declared, “the monster bound you⁠ ⁠… and he shall unbind you. You have only to play the necessary part! Remember that he loves you!”

“Alas!” we heard. “Am I likely to forget it!”

“Remember it and smile to him⁠ ⁠… entreat him⁠ ⁠… tell him that your bonds hurt you.”

But Christine Daaé said:

“Hush!⁠ ⁠… I hear something in the wall on the lake!⁠ ⁠… It is he!⁠ ⁠… Go away! Go away! Go away!”

“We could not go away, even if we wanted to,” I said, as impressively as I could. “We can not leave this! And we are in the torture-chamber!”

“Hush!” whispered Christine again.

Heavy steps sounded slowly behind the wall, then stopped and made the floor creak once more. Next came a tremendous sigh, followed by a cry of horror from Christine, and we heard Erik’s voice:

“I beg your pardon for letting you see a face like this! What a state I am in, am I not? It’s the other one’s fault! Why did