Призрак Оперы
XX In The Cellars Of The Opera
Thedarknesswasthickaroundthem,thesilenceheavyandterrible.
ThenthePersianbegantomakeplaywiththedarklanternagain,turningtheraysovertheirheads,lookingfortheholethroughwhichtheyhadcome,andfailingtofindit:
"Oh!"hesaid."Thestonehasclosedofitself!"
Andthelightofthelanternsweptdownthewallandoverthefloor.
ThePersianstoopedandpickedupsomething,asortofcord,whichheexaminedforasecondandflungawaywithhorror.
"ThePunjablasso!"hemuttered.
"Whatisit?"askedRaoul.
ThePersianshivered."Itmightverywellbetheropebywhichthemanwashanged,andwhichwaslookedforsolong."
And,suddenlyseizedwithfreshanxiety,hemovedthelittlereddiskofhislanternoverthewalls.Inthisway,helitupacuriousthing:thetrunkofatree,whichseemedstillquitealive,withitsleaves;andthebranchesofthattreeranrightupthewallsanddisappearedintheceiling.
Becauseofthesmallnessoftheluminousdisk,itwasdifficultatfirsttomakeouttheappearanceofthings:theysawacornerofabranch...andaleaf...andanotherleaf...and,nexttoit,nothingatall,nothingbuttherayoflightthatseemedtoreflectitself...Raoulpassedhishandoverthatnothing,overthatreflection.
"Hullo!"hesaid."Thewallisalooking-glass!"
"Yes,alooking-glass!"saidthePersian,inatoneofdeepemotion
