Призрак Оперы
XXV The Scorpion Or The Grasshopper: Which
Therewasapause.
"Christine,"Icried,"whereareyou?"
"Bythescorpion."
"Don’ttouchit!"
Theideahadcometome—forIknewmyErik—thatthemonsterhadperhapsdeceivedthegirloncemore.Perhapsitwasthescorpionthatwouldbloweverythingup.Afterall,whywasn’thethere?Thefiveminuteswerelongpast...andhewasnotback...Perhapshehadtakenshelterandwaswaitingfortheexplosion!...Whyhadhenotreturned?...HecouldnotreallyexpectChristineevertoconsenttobecomehisvoluntaryprey!...Whyhadhenotreturned?
"Don’ttouchthescorpion!"Isaid.
"Herehecomes!"criedChristine."Ihearhim!Hereheis!"
WeheardhisstepsapproachingtheLouis-Philipperoom.HecameuptoChristine,butdidnotspeak.ThenIraisedmyvoice:
"Erik!ItisI!Doyouknowme?"
Withextraordinarycalmness,heatoncereplied:
"Soyouarenotdeadinthere?Well,then,seethatyoukeepquiet."
Itriedtospeak,buthesaidcoldly:
"Notaword,daroga,orIshallbloweverythingup."Andheadded,"Thehonorrestswithmademoiselle...Mademoisellehasnottouchedthescorpion"—howdeliberatelyhespoke!—"mademoisellehasnottouchedthegrasshopper"—withthatcomposure!—"butitisnottoolatetodotherightthing.There,Iopenthecasketswithoutakey,forIamatrap-doorloverandIopenandshutwhatIpleaseandasIplease.Iopenthelittleebonycaskets:mademoiselle,lookatthelittledearsinside.Aren’ttheypretty?Ifyouturnthegrasshopper,mademoiselle,weshallallbeblownup.Thereisenoughgun-powderunderourfeettoblowupawholequarterofParis.
