"i don't know if it is possible or not; but there are ways and ways of carrying people off; and m.le comte philippe has never, as far as i know, had anything to do with witchcraft.""your arguments are convincing, sir, and i am a fool!...oh, let us make haste! i place myself entirely in your hands!...
how should i not believe you, when you are the only one to believe me...when you are the only one not to smile when erik's name is mentioned?"and the young man impetuously seized the persian's hands.
they were ice-cold.
"silence!" said the persian, stopping and listening to the distant sounds of the theater."we must not mention that name here.
let us say `he' and `him;' then there will be less danger of attracting his attention.""do you think he is near us?"
"it is quite possible, sir, if he is not, at this moment, with his victim, in the house on the lake.""ah, so you know that house too?"
"if he is not there, he may be here, in this wall, in this floor, in this ceiling!...come!"and the persian, asking raoul to deaden the sound of his footsteps, led him down passages which raoul had never seen before, even at the time when christine used to take him for walks through that labyrinth.
"if only darius has come!" said the persian.
"who is darius?"
"darius? my servant."
they were now in the center of a real deserted square, an immense apartment ill-lit by a small lamp.the persian stopped raoul and, in the softest of whispers, asked:
"what did you say to the commissary?"
"i said that christine daae's abductor was the angel of music, alias the opera ghost, and that the real name was...""hush!...and did he believe you?"