"how do you mean?"
"by pitying him the other night, the night of the masked ball.
when you went to your dressing-room, did you not say, `poor erik?'
well, christine, there was a poor raoul who overheard you.""this is the second time that you have listened behind the door, m.de chagny!""i was not behind the door...i was in the dressing-room, in the inner room, mademoiselle.""oh, unhappy man!" moaned the girl, ing every sign of unspeakable terror."unhappy man! do you want to be killed?""perhaps."
raoul uttered this "perhaps" with so much love and despair in his voice that christine could not keep back a sob.she took his hands and looked at him with all the pure affection of which she was capable:
"raoul," she said, "forget the man's voice and do not even remember its name...you must never try to fathom the mystery of theman's voice."
"is the mystery so very terrible?"
"there is no more awful mystery on this earth.swear to me that you will make no attempt to find out," she insisted."swear to me that you will never come to my dressing-room, unless i send for you.""then you promise to send for me sometimes, christine?""i promise."
"when?"
"to-morrow."
"then i swear to do as you ask."
he kissed her hands and went away, cursing erik and resolving to be patient.