Призрак Оперы
XII Apollo's Lyre
Herowedwithaquick,powerfulstroke;andhiseyes,underthemask,neverleftme.WeslippedacrossthenoiselesswaterintheblueylightwhichItoldyouof;thenwewereinthedarkagainandwetouchedshore.AndIwasoncemoretakenupintheman’sarms.Icriedaloud.Andthen,suddenly,Iwassilent,dazedbythelight...Yes,adazzlinglightinthemidstofwhichIhadbeenputdown.Isprangtomyfeet.Iwasinthemiddleofadrawing-roomthatseemedtometobedecorated,adornedandfurnishedwithnothingbutflowers,flowersbothmagnificentandstupid,becauseofthesilkribbonsthattiedthemtobaskets,likethosewhichtheysellintheshopsontheboulevards.Theyweremuchtoocivilizedflowers,likethosewhichIusedtofindinmydressing-roomafterafirstnight.And,inthemidstofalltheseflowers,stoodtheblackshapeofthemaninthemask,witharmscrossed,andhesaid,’Don’tbeafraid,Christine;youareinnodanger.’ITWASTHEVOICE!
"Myangerequaledmyamazement.Irushedatthemaskandtriedtosnatchitaway,soastoseethefaceofthevoice.Themansaid,’Youareinnodanger,solongasyoudonottouchthemask.’And,takingmegentlybythewrists,heforcedmeintoachairandthenwentdownonhiskneesbeforemeandsaidnothingmore!Hishumilitygavemebacksomeofmycourage;andthelightrestoredmetotherealtiesoflife.Howeverextraordinarytheadventuremightbe,Iwasnowsurroundedbymortal,visible,tangiblethings.
