He stopped. What had she said?… In the name of their love?… Never before had she confessed that she loved him. And yet she had had opportunities enough… Pooh, her only object was to gain a few seconds!… She wished to give the Red Death time to escape… And, in accents of childish hatred, he said:
"You lie, madam, for you do not love me and you have never loved me! What a poor fellow I must be to let you mock and flout me as you have done! Why did you give me every reason for hope, at Perros… for honest hope, madam, for I am an honest man and I believed you to be an honest woman, when your only intention was to deceive me! Alas, you have deceived us all! You have taken a shameful advantage of the candid affection of your benefactress herself, who continues to believe in your sincerity while you go about the Opera ball with Red Death!… I despise you!…"
And he burst into tears. She allowed him to insult her. She thought of but one thing, to keep him from leaving the box.
"You will beg my pardon, one day, for all those ugly words, Raoul, and when you do I shall forgive you!"
He shook his head. "No, no, you have driven me mad! When I think that I had only one object in life: to give my name to an opera wench!"
"Raoul!… How can you?"
"I shall die of shame!"
"No, dear, live!" said Christine’s grave and changed voice. "And… good–by. Good–by, Raoul…"
The boy stepped forward, staggering as he went. He risked one more sarcasm:
"Oh, you must let me come and applaud you from time to time!"
"I shall never sing again, Raoul!…"
"Really?" he replied, still more satirically. "So he is taking you off the stage: I congratulate you!… But we shall meet in the Bois, one of these evenings!"
"Not in the Bois nor anywhere, Raoul: you shall not see me again…"
"May one ask at least to what darkness you are returning?… For what hell are you leaving, mysterious lady… or for what paradise?"
"I came to tell you, dear, but I can’t tell you now… you would not believe me! You have lost faith in me, Raoul; it is finished!"
She spoke in such a despairing voice that the lad began to feel remorse for his cruelty.
"But look here!" he cried. "Can’t you tell me what all this means! … You are free, there is no one to interfere with you… You go about Paris… You put on a domino to come to the ball… Why do you not go home?… What have you been doing this past fortnight?… What is this tale about the Angel of Music, which you have been telling Mamma Valerius? Some one may have taken you in, played upon your innocence. I was a witness of it myself, at Perros… but you know what to believe now! You seem to me quite sensible, Christine. You know what you are doing… And meanwhile Mamma Valerius lies waiting for you at home and appealing to your 'good genius!'… Explain yourself, Christine, I beg of you! Any one might have been deceived as I was. What is this farce?"
Christine simply took off her mask and said: "Dear, it is a tragedy!"
Raoul now saw her face and could not restrain an exclamation of surprise and terror. The fresh complexion of former days was gone. A mortal pallor covered those features, which he had known so charming and so gentle, and sorrow had furrowed them with pitiless lines and traced dark and unspeakably sad shadows under her eyes.
"My dearest! My dearest!" he moaned, holding out his arms. "You promised to forgive me…"
"Perhaps!… Some day, perhaps!" she said, resuming her mask; and she went away, forbidding him, with a gesture, to follow her.
He tried to disobey her; but she turned round and repeated her gesture of farewell with such authority that he dared not move a step.
He watched her till she was out of sight. Then he also went down among the crowd, hardly knowing what he was doing, with throbbing temples and an aching heart; and, as he crossed the dancing–floor, he asked if anybody had seen Red Death. Yes, every one had seen Red Death; but Raoul could not find him; and, at two o’clock in the morning, he turned down the passage, behind the scenes, that led to Christine Daae’s dressing–room.
