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A shadow in a long black cloak and a soft black felt hat passed along the pavement between the Rotunda and the carriages, examined the barouche carefully, went up to the horses and the coachman and then moved away without saying a word, The magistrate afterward believed that this shadow was that of the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny; but I do not agree, seeing that that evening, as every evening, the Vicomte de Chagny was wearing a tall hat, which hat, besides, was subsequently found.
"If you can do me that service, sir, my life is yours! ... One word more: the commissary of police tells me that Christine Daae has been carried off by my brother, Count Philippe." "Oh, M. de Chagny, I don't believe a word of it." "It's not possible, is it?"
Suddenly, the organ and the voice ceased so suddenly that M. de Chagny sprang back, on the other side of the wall, with emotion. And the voice, changed and transformed, distinctly grated out these metallic syllables: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY BAG?" The voice repeated angrily: "What have you done with my bag? So it was to take my bag that you asked me to release you!"
"Well! ..." replied the young man, whose ideas began to grow confused in the face of Christine's determined attitude. "It's you, Raoul, who say that? You, an old playfellow of my own! A friend of my father's! But you have changed since those days. What are you thinking of? I am an honest girl, M. le Vicomte de Chagny, and I don't lock myself up in my dressing-room with men's voices.
Philippe Georges Marie Comte de Chagny was just forty-one years of age. He was a great aristocrat and a good-looking man, above middle height and with attractive features, in spite of his hard forehead and his rather cold eyes. He was exquisitely polite to the women and a little haughty to the men, who did not always forgive him for his successes in society.
"Did you know that there were three other carriages there, in addition to yours?" "I did not pay the least attention." "They were the carriages of Mlle. Sorelli, which could not find room in the Cour de l'Administration; of Carlotta; and of your brother, M. le Comte de Chagny..." "Very likely..."
Artists, scene-shifters, dancers, supers, choristers, subscribers were all asking questions, shouting and hustling one another. "What became of her?" "She's run away." "With the Vicomte de Chagny, of course!" "No, with the count!" "Ah, here's Carlotta! Carlotta did the trick!" "No, it was the ghost!"
And, again in a whisper, so as not to wake M. de Chagny, he said to the Persian, after sitting down and feeling his pulse: "You are now saved, both of you. And soon I shall take you up to the surface of the earth, TO PLEASE MY WIFE." Thereupon he rose, without any further explanation, and disappeared once more. The Persian now looked at Christine's quiet profile under the lamp.
I had spent a horrible day, for, after reading in a morning paper the announcement of a forthcoming marriage between Christine and the Vicomte de Chagny, I wondered whether, after all, I should not do better to denounce the monster. But reason returned to me, and I was persuaded that this action could only precipitate a possible catastrophe.
I continued to wander, very cautiously, about the Opera and soon learned the truth about the monster's dreary love-affair. He filled Christine's mind, through the terror with which he inspired her, but the dear child's heart belonged wholly to the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.
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