Призрак Оперы
XIII A Master-stroke Of The Trap-door Lover
Justthen,Carlottamadeherentranceinaboxfacingthestage,asensationalentrance.PoorChristineraisedhereyesuponthisfreshsubjectofexcitement.Sherecognizedherrival.Shethoughtshesawasneeronherlips.Thatsavedher.Sheforgoteverything,inordertotriumphoncemore.
Fromthatmomenttheprimadonnasangwithallherheartandsoul.Shetriedtosurpassallthatshehaddonetillthen;andshesucceeded.Inthelastactwhenshebegantheinvocationtotheangels,shemadeallthemembersoftheaudiencefeelasthoughtheytoohadwings.
Inthecenteroftheamphitheateramanstoodupandremainedstanding,facingthesinger.ItwasRaoul.
"Holyangel,inHeavenblessed..."
AndChristine,herarmsoutstretched,herthroatfilledwithmusic,thegloryofherhairfallingoverherbareshoulders,utteredthedivinecry:
"Myspiritlongswiththeetorest!"
Itwasatthatmomentthatthestagewassuddenlyplungedindarkness.Ithappenedsoquicklythatthespectatorshardlyhadtimetoutterasoundofstupefaction,forthegasatoncelitupthestageagain.ButChristineDaaewasnolongerthere!
Whathadbecomeofher?Whatwasthatmiracle?Allexchangedglanceswithoutunderstanding,andtheexcitementatoncereacheditsheight.Norwasthetensionanylessgreatonthestageitself.MenrushedfromthewingstothespotwhereChristinehadbeensingingthatveryinstant.Theperformancewasinterruptedamidthegreatestdisorder
