Призрак Оперы
I Is It A Ghost?
Hewascoveredwithbruisesandhisfacewasalloverblood.Wewerefrightenedoutofourlives,but,allatonce,hebegantothankProvidencethathehadgotoffsocheaply.Thenhetolduswhathadfrightenedhim.HehadseentheghostbehindthePersian,THEGHOSTWITHTHEDEATH’SHEADjustlikeJosephBuquet’sdescription!"
Jammeshadtoldherstoryeversoquickly,asthoughtheghostwereatherheels,andwasquiteoutofbreathatthefinish.Asilencefollowed,whileSorellipolishedhernailsingreatexcitement.ItwasbrokenbylittleGiry,whosaid:
"JosephBuquetwoulddobettertoholdhistongue."
"Whyshouldheholdhistongue?"askedsomebody.
"That’smother’sopinion,"repliedMeg,loweringhervoiceandlookingallaboutherasthoughfearinglestotherearsthanthosepresentmightoverhear.
"Andwhyisityourmother’sopinion?"
"Hush!Mothersaystheghostdoesn’tlikebeingtalkedabout."
"Andwhydoesyourmothersayso?"
"Because—because—nothing—"
Thisreticenceexasperatedthecuriosityoftheyoungladies,whocrowdedroundlittleGiry,begginghertoexplainherself.Theywerethere,sidebyside,leaningforwardsimultaneouslyinonemovementofentreatyandfear,communicatingtheirterrortooneanother,takingakeenpleasureinfeelingtheirbloodfreezeintheirveins.
"Isworenottotell!"gaspedMeg.
Buttheylefthernopeaceandpromisedtokeepthesecret,untilMeg,burningtosayallsheknew,began,withhereyesfixedonthedoor:
"Well,it’sbecauseoftheprivatebox.
