Призрак Оперы
VIII The Mysterious Brougham
"Christine!"
Thesacrednameofhislovehadsprungfromhisheartandhislips.Hecouldnotkeepitback...Hewouldhavegivenanythingtowithdrawit,forthatname,proclaimedinthestillnessofthenight,hadactedasthoughitwerethepreconcertedsignalforafuriousrushonthepartofthewholeturn-out,whichdashedpasthimbeforehecouldputintoexecutionhisplanofleapingatthehorses’heads.Thecarriagewindowhadbeenclosedandthegirl’sfacehaddisappeared.Andthebrougham,behindwhichhewasnowrunning,wasnomorethanablackspotonthewhiteroad.
Hecalledoutagain:"Christine!"
Noreply.Andhestoppedinthemidstofthesilence.
Withalack-lustereye,hestareddownthatcold,desolateroadandintothepale,deadnight.Nothingwascolderthanhisheart,nothinghalfsodead:hehadlovedanangelandnowhedespisedawoman!
Raoul,howthatlittlefairyoftheNorthhastrifledwithyou!Wasitreally,wasitreallynecessarytohavesofreshandyoungaface,aforeheadsoshyandalwaysreadytocoveritselfwiththepinkblushofmodestyinordertopassinthelonelynight,inacarriageandpair,accompaniedbyamysteriouslover?Surelythereshouldbesomelimittohypocrisyandlying!...
Shehadpassedwithoutansweringhiscry...Andhewasthinkingofdying;andhewastwentyyearsold!...
Hisvaletfoundhiminthemorningsittingonhisbed.Hehadnotundressedandtheservantfeared,atthesightofhisface,thatsomedisasterhadoccurred.Raoulsnatchedhislettersfromtheman’shands.HehadrecognizedChristine’spaperandhand-writing
