and then the voice began to sing the leading phrase, "come! and believe in me! whoso believes in me shall live! walk! whoso hath believed in me shall never die!...' i can not tell you the effect which that music had upon me.it seemed to command me, personally, to come, to stand up and come to it.it retreated and i followed.`come! and believe in me!' i believed in it, i came....i came and--this was the extraordinary thing--my dressing-room, as i moved, seemed to lengthen out...to lengthen out....evidently, it must have been an effect of mirrors...for i had the mirror in front of me....and, suddenly, i was outside the room without knowing how!""what! without knowing how? christine, christine, you must really stop dreaming!""i was not dreaming, dear, i was outside my room without knowing how.you, who saw me disappear from my room one evening, may be able to explain it; but i can not.i can only tell you that, suddenly, there was no mirror before me and no dressing-room.
i was in a dark passage, i was frightened and i cried out.
it was quite dark, but for a faint red glimmer at a distant corner of the wall.i tried out.my voice was the only sound, for the singing and the violin had stopped.and, suddenly, a hand was laid on mine...or rather a stone-cold, bony thing that seized my wrist and did not let go.i cried out again.
an arm took me round the waist and supported me.i struggled for a little while and then gave up the attempt.i was dragged toward the little red light and then i saw that i was in the hands of a man wrapped in a large cloak and wearing a mask that hid his whole face.i made one last effort; my limbs stiffened, my mouth opened to scream, but a hand closed it, a hand which ifelt on my lips, on my skin...a hand that smelt of death.
then i fainted away.
"when i opened my eyes, we were still surrounded by darkness.
a lantern, standing on the ground, ed a bubbling well.
the water splashing from the well disappeared, almost at once, under the floor on which i was lying, with my head on the knee of the man in the black cloak and the black mask.he was bathing my temples and his hands smelt of death.i tried to push them away and asked, `who are you? where is the voice?' his only answer was a sigh.suddenly, a hot breath passed over my face and i perceived a white shape, beside the man's black shape, in the darkness.the black shape lifted me on to the white shape, a glad neighing greeted my astounded ears and i murmured, `cesar!' the animal quivered.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.