The Persian said coldly: "We shall do all that it is humanly possible to do. But he may stop us at the first step. He commands the walls, the doors and the trapdoors. In my country, he was known by a name which means 'the trapdoor lover'."
"But why do these walls obey him alone? He did not build them!"
"Yes, sir, that is just what he did do."
Raoul looked at him in amazement, but the Persian made a sign for him to be silent and pointed to the glass. There was a sort of shivering reflection, then all became stationary again.
"You see, sir, that it is not turning/' Raoul said. "Let us take another road."
"Tonight, there is no other," declared the Persian in a sad voice. "Now look out! And be ready to fire!"
He raised his pistol opposite the glass. Raoul imitated his movement. With his free arm, the Persian drew the young man to his chest and the mirror turned in a blinding daze of cross-lights, hurling them from the full light into the deepest darkness.
"Hold your hand high, ready to fire!" repeated Raoul's companion quickly.
The wall behind them closed again and the two men stood motionless for a moment, holding their breaths.
At last the Persian made a movement, and Raoul heard him drop to his knees and feel for something in the dark. He stood up and Raoul saw that he had a lantern. The little red disc turned in every direction and Raoul observed that the floor, the walls and the ceiling were all made out of planking. This was Erik's secret route to reach Christine's dressing-room. It had been contrived at the time of the Paris Commune, to allow the gaolers to move their prisoners straight to the dungeons constructed for them in the cellars.
The Persian went on his knees again and put his lantern on the ground. He seemed to be working at the floor. Suddenly he turned off his light. Then Raoul heard a faint click and saw a very pale luminous square in the floor of the passage. It was as though he had opened a window.
"Follow me," the Persian commanded, "and do all that I do."
Raoul turned to the opening and saw his guide, who was still on his knees, then hang by his hands from the rim, with his pistol between his teeth, and slide into the cellar below. Raoul went on his knees also and hung from the trap with both hands.
"Let go!" said a voice.
He dropped into the arms of the Persian and found he was in the cellars.
The cellars of the Opera are enormous and five in number. Following the Persian, Raoul wondered what he would have done without him in that extraordinary labyrinth. They eventually arrived in the
huge cellars directly below the stage. The Persian touched a partition-wall and said, "If I am not mistaken, this wall belongs to the house on the lake."
Raoul flung himself against the wall and listened eagerly. But he heard nothing, nothing except distant steps sounding on the floor of the upper portions of the theatre.
The Persian darkened his lantern again. 'We shall try another way of getting in."
And he led him back to the little staircase by which they had descended.
They went up, stopping at each step, until they reached the third cellar. Here the Persian motioned to Raoul to go down on his knees and in this way they crawled to the end wall. The Persian pressed against the wall; then a stone gave way, leaving a narrow hole in the wall.
He stopped almost at once. Raoul heard him say in a whisper, "We shall have to drop a few yards, without making a noise. Take off your boots."
He crawled a little farther on his knees, then turned right round and, facing Raoul, said: "I am going to hang by my hands from the edge of the stone and let myself drop into his house. You must do exactly the same. Do not be afraid. I will catch you in my arms."
Raoul soon heard a dull thud as the Persian jumped down and then dropped in his turn.
"Hush!" whispered the Persian.
And they stood motionless, listening.
The Persian stooped and picked up something, a sort of cord, which he examined for a second and flung away with horror.
"The Punjab lasso!"
"What is it?" asked Raoul.
The Persian shivered: "It might very well be the rope which Joseph Buquet was hanged with, the rope which they spent such a long time looking for!"
And, suddenly seized with a fresh anxiety, he moved his lantern over the walls. Then they saw a curious thing; the trunk of a tree, which seemed to be still quite alive, and the branches of that tree running right up the walls and disappearing into the ceiling.
Because of the light's smallness, it was difficult at first to make out what it looked like. They saw a corner of a branch, a leaf, then another leaf and next to it, nothing at all but a ray of light that seemed to make
its own reflection. Raoul passed his hand over that reflection, "The wall is a looking-glass!" he said excitedly.
"Yes, a looking-glass!" gasped the Persian. Passing the hand that held the pistol over his moist forehead, he said, "We have dropped into the torture-chamber!"
What the Persian knew of this torture-chamber and what happened to his companion and himself shall be told in his own words, as set down in a manuscript which he left behind him and which I reproduce as I found it.
the Persian's narrative
It was the first time that I had ever been to the house on the lake. I had often begged Erik to open its mysterious doors to me. He always refused. Watch him as I might, the darkness was always too impenetrable to allow me to see how he worked the door in the wall on the lake. One day, when I thought I was alone, I stepped into the boat and rowed towards that part of the wall through which I had seen Erik disappear. It was then that I heard the siren who guarded the approach and whose charm was very nearly fatal to me.
I had no sooner left the bank than the silence was disturbed by a sort of whispered singing that hovered all around me. It rose softly from the waters of the lake, following me, moving with me, and it was so soft that it did not even alarm me. On the contrary, in my longing to approach the source of that sweet and enticing harmony, I leaned out of my little boat for I believed that the singing came from the water itself. By this time I was in the middle of the lake. The voice—for it was now distinctly a voice—was beside me, in the water.
I leant farther and farther over the side, and suddenly two monstrous arms seized me by the neck, dragging me down to the depths. I should certainly have been lost, if I had not had time to give a cry by which Erik knew me. For it was he in the water and, instead of drowning me, as was certainly his first intention, he swam with me and laid me gently on the bank.
"How imprudent you are!" he said as he stood before me, dripping with water. "Why do you try to enter my house? I did not invite you. I don't want you there, nor anybody! Did you save my life only to make it unbearable to me? However great the service rendered, Erik will perhaps end by forgetting it, and you know that nothing can restrain Erik, not even Erik himself."
I spoke to him severely. "You nearly killed me!" I said. "And your trick may have been fatal to others! You know what you promised me, Erik? No more murders!"
"Have I really committed murders?" he asked, putting on his most amiable air.
"Wretched man!" I cried. "Have you forgotten Mazenderan?"
"Yes," he replied, in a sadder tone, "I prefer to forget it."
"All that belongs to the past," I declared, "but there is the present, because if I had wished there would have been none at all for you. Remember that, Erik; I saved your life!"
And I took advantage of the turn in the conversation to speak to him of something that had long been on my mind.
"Erik," I asked, "Erik, swear that. . ."
"Swear what?" he retorted. "You know I never keep my oaths. Oaths are made to catch fools with."
"The chandelier, Erik."
"What about the chandelier?"
"You know what I mean."
"Oh," he sniggered, "I don't mind telling you about that. It wasn't I! The chandelier was very old and worn."
When Erik laughed he was more
terrible than ever. He jumped into the boat, laughing so horribly that I could not help trembling. "Very old and worn, my dear Daroga!* And now, Daroga, take my advice and go dry yourself, or you'll catch cold. And whatever you do, don't try to enter my house. I should be sorry to have to dedicate my Requiem Mass to you!"
So, still chuckling, he pushed off from shore and soon disappeared in the darkness of the lake.
From that day, I gave up all thought of penetrating into his house by way of the lake. That entrance was obviously too well guarded, especially since he had learnt that I knew about it. But I felt that there must be another entrance, for I had often seen Erik disappear in the third cellar, though I could not imagine how.
By watching his movements, I soon discovered the curious relationship which existed between the monster and Christine Daae. Hiding in her room, I listened to wonderful musical displays that evidently sent Christine into such ecstasy, but I was puzzled at how Erik's voice— which was as loud as thunder or as soft as an angel's voice—could have
* Editor's note: Daroga is Persian for chief of police.
made her forget his ugliness. I understood, however, when I learned that Christine had never seen him! I went to the dressing-room and, remembering the lessons he had once given me, I had no difficulty in discovering the trick that made the wall with the mirror swing round, and thus I ascertained the means by which he made his voice carry to Christine. In this way also I discovered the road that led to the well and the dungeon—the Communards' dungeon—and also the trapdoor that enabled Erik to go straight to the cellars below the stage.
I discovered that Christine was a prisoner in the house on the lake. Without hesitation, I resolved to return to the shore, notwithstanding the certain danger. For twenty-four hours, I lay watching for the monster to appear. I was beginning to think that he had gone through the other door, in the third cellar when I heard a slight splash in the dark. I saw the two yellow eyes shining like candles and soon the boat touched shore. Erik jumped out and walked up to me. His anger was terrible to see. "Yes, you must learn," he said, "once and for all. I tell you that with your recklessness I shall soon be discovered, and if I am you will be in trouble! I won't be answerable for anything that happens to you."
"It's not Erik that I'm after!" I replied.
"Who then?"
"You know as well as I do, it's Christine Daae."
He was furious, "I have every right to see her in my house. I am loved for my own sake."
"That's not true," I said. "You have carried her off and are keeping her locked up."
"Christine Daae shall leave as she pleases and come back again! She will come back because she loves me for myself!"
I said, "I shall believe you if I see Christine Daae come out of the house on the lake and go back to it of her own accord."
"And you won't meddle any more in my affairs?"
"No."
"Very well, you shall see her tonight. Come to the masked ball. Christine and I will go and then you can hide in her room where you will see her come back to me by the underground passage."
I was greatly interested in the relationship between Erik and Christine Daae, not from any morbid curiosity, but because of the terrible thought that Erik was capable of anything if he discovered that he was not loved for himself alone. I continued my investigations in the Opera house and soon discovered the truth of the matter. He filled Christine's
mind, through the terror with which he inspired her, but the child's heart belonged wholly to the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. While they played about like an innocent engaged couple, they little suspected that I was watching over their safety. I was prepared to go to any lengths; to kill the monster, if necessary, and explain to the police afterwards. But Erik did not show himself, and I felt none the more comfortable for that.
On the day of the abduction of Christine Daae, I did not come to the theatre until rather late in the evening. Her abduction in the Prison Act, which naturally surprised everybody, found me prepared. It was quite certain that she had been spirited away by Erik, that prince of conjurors. The chances were in my favour that Erik, at that moment, was thinking only of his captive. This was the moment to enter his house through the third cellar, and I resolved to take with me the Vicomte de Chagny, who accepted with a confidence that touched me profoundly. He is a brave fellow, and he knew hardly anything about his adversary, which was all the better.
I knew Erik too well to feel at all comfortable when I jumped into his house, for I knew what he had done in a certain palace at Mazen-deran. He soon turned it into a house of the very devil, and with his trapdoors the monster was responsible for endless tragedies of all kinds. He hit upon astonishing inventions. Of these, the most curious, horrible and dangerous was the so-called torture-chamber. My alarm, therefore, was great when I saw that the room into which Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny and I had dropped was an exact copy of the torture-chamber of Mazenderan! At our feet, I found the Punjab lasso which I had been dreading all the evening. I was convinced that this rope had already been used for Joseph Buquet who like myself, must have caught Erik one evening working the stone in the third cellar. He probably tried it in his turn and fell into the torture-chamber. I could well imagine Erik dragging the body, in order to get rid of it, to the scene from the Roi de Lahore and hanging it there as an example, or to increase the superstitious terror that would help him in guarding the approaches to his lair.
We were then, in the middle of a small hexagonal room, the sides of which were covered with mirrors from floor to ceiling. Suddenly, we heard noises on our left. It sounded at first like a door opening and shutting in the next room, and then we heard a dull moan. I clutched Monsieur de Chagny's arm when we distinctly heard these words, "You must make your choice! The wedding mass or the requiem mass!"
I recognized the voice of the monster.
There followed another moan, then complete silence.
I was sure by now that the monster was unaware of our presence in his house, for otherwise he would certainly have kept silent. Besides, I was certain that if he had known of our presence the tortures would have begun at once.
The important thing was not to let him know, and I dreaded that the Vicomte de Chagny, who wanted to rush through the walls to Christine Daae, would give us away.
"The requiem mass is not at all gay," Erik's voice resumed, "whereas the wedding mass is magnificent! I can't go on living like this, like a mole under the ground! Don Juan Triumphant is finished. Now I want to live like a normal man and have a wife like everybody else. You will be the happiest of women, you know. And we will sing, all by ourselves, until we swoon away with delight. You are crying! You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself. If you loved me, I should be as gentle as a lamb, and you could do anything with me that you pleased."
Soon the moans grew louder and longer. Monsieur de Chagny and I recognized that this terrible lamentation came from Erik himself. Three times over, Erik fiercely bewailed his fate. "You don't love me! You don't love me! You don't love me!" And then, more gendy, "Why do you cry? You know it hurts to see you cry!"
A silence.
Suddenly, the silence in the next room was disturbed by the ringing of a bell. There was a bound on the other side of the wall and Erik's voice of thunder, "Somebody ringing! Come in!" A sinister chuckle: "Who has come bothering me now? Wait for me here. I am going to tell the siren to open the door."
We heard his steps move away, a door close. I had no time to think of the fresh horror that he was preparing. My only thought was that Christine was alone behind the wall!
The Vicomte de Chagny was already calling to her, "Christine! Christine!"
At last, a faint voice reached us: "I am dreaming!" it said.
"Christine, it is Raoul!"
A silence.
"But answer me, Christine! In heaven's name, if you are alone, answer me!"
Then Christine's voice whi
spered RaouPs name.
"Yes!" he cried, "Yes! It is I! It is not a dream! Christine, trust me! We are here to save you, but be careful! When you hear the monster, warn us!"
Trembling 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 if she did not consent to become his wife. He had given her till eleven o'clock the next evening for reflection. If the answer was still no, he had repeated, "everybody will be dead and buried."
"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 cannot stir a limb."
When we heard this, Monsieur de Chagny and I were dumbfounded. Our safety, the safety of all the three of us depended on the girl's freedom of movement.
"There are only two doors in my room," she said, "one which Erik uses and another which he has never opened because he says it is the door to the torture-chamber."
"Christine, that is where we are!"
"You are in the torture-chamber?"
"Yes, but we cannot 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, and 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!"
"Where is the key?" I asked.
"In the next room, near the organ, with another little bronze key. Oh, 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 the way you came."
"Christine," said the young man, "we will go from here together or die together."
"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!"
The ghouls Page 12