A few days later, what was not my amazement to learn by my own eyes and ears that Erik and Christine Daae saw each other and to catch the monster stooping over the little well, in the Communists' road and sprinkling the forehead of Christine Daae, who had fainted. A white horse, the horse out of the PROFETA, which had disappeared from the stables under the Opera, was standing quietly beside them.

The rococo church of the Scalzi is here, all marble and malachite, all a cold, hard glitter and a costly, curly ugliness, and here too, opposite, on the top of its high steps, is San Simeone Profeta, I won't say immortalised, but unblushingly misrepresented, by the perfidious Canaletto.

It's a very important department; we have twelve horses." "Twelve horses! And what for, in Heaven's name?" "Why, we want trained horses for the processions in the Juive, The Profeta and so on; horses 'used to the boards. It is the grooms' business to teach them. M. Lachenel is very clever at it. He used to manage Franconi's stables." "Very well ... but what does he want?"

Raoul, I was lying half back on a saddle and I had recognized the white horse out of the PROFETA, which I had so often fed with sugar and sweets. I remembered that, one evening, there was a rumor in the theater that the horse had disappeared and that it had been stolen by the Opera ghost. I believed in the voice, but had never believed in the ghost.

San Simeone Profeta appears to hang there upon the wall; but it is on the wrong side of the Canal and the other elements quite fail to correspond.

La una era de la Vulgata que se podria hacer otra mejor, y yo le dije riendo: pues quieren atar las manos á Dios que no pueda hacer un profeta en su iglesia. Y la otra era que los Cantares eran Carmen amatorium, y le dije: Carmen amatorium ni dice bien ni mal. Si dice Carmen amatorium carnale, eso es mal; pero si dice Carmen amatorium spirituale, eso verdad es.

"Has Cesar been stolen?" cried the acting-manager. "Cesar, the white horse in the Profeta?" "There are not two Cesars," said the stud-groom dryly. "I was ten years at Franconi's and I have seen plenty of horses in my time. Well, there are not two Cesars. And he's been stolen." "How?" "I don't know. Nobody knows. That's why I have come to ask you to sack the whole stable."

Now, however, I began to wonder, with a shiver, whether I was the ghost's prisoner. I called upon the voice to help me, for I should never have imagined that the voice and the ghost were one. You have heard about the Opera ghost, have you not, Raoul?" "Yes, but tell me what happened when you were on the white horse of the Profeta?" "I made no movement and let myself go.