It was the first ... time, daroga, the first ... time I ever kissed a woman ...
Yes, alive ... I kissed her alive ... and she looked as beautiful as if she had been dead!"
The Persian shook Erik by the arm:
"Will you tell me if she is alive or dead."
"Why do you shake me like that?" asked Erik, making an effort to speak more connectedly.
"I tell you that I am going to die... Yes, I kissed her alive ..."
"And now she is dead?"
"I tell you I kissed her just like that, on her forehead ... and she did not draw back her forehead from my lips! ...
Oh, she is a good girl! ...
As to her being dead, I don't think so; but it has nothing to do with me ... No, no, she is not dead!
And no one shall touch a hair of her head!
She is a good, honest girl, and she saved your life, daroga, at a moment when I would not have given twopence for your Persian skin.
As a matter of fact, nobody bothered about you.
Why were you there with that little chap?
You would have died as well as he!
My word, how she entreated me for her little chap! But I told her that, as she had turned the scorpion, she had, through that very fact, and of her own free will, become engaged to me and that she did not need to have two men engaged to her, which was true enough.
"As for you, you did not exist, you had ceased to exist, I tell you, and you were going to die with the other! ...
Only, mark me, daroga, when you were yelling like the devil, because of the water, Christine came to me with her beautiful blue eyes wide open, and swore to me, as she hoped to be saved, that she consented to be MY LIVING WIFE! ...
Until then, in the depths of her eyes, daroga, I had always seen my dead wife; it was the first time I saw MY LIVING WIFE there. She was sincere, as she hoped to be saved.
She would not kill herself.
It was a bargain ...
Half a minute later, all the water was back in the lake; and I had a hard job with you, daroga, for, upon my honor, I thought you were done for! ... However! ... There you were! ... It was understood that I was to take you both up to the surface of the earth.
When, at last, I cleared the Louis-Philippe room of you, I came back alone ..."
"What have you done with the Vicomte de Chagny?" asked the Persian, interrupting him.
"Ah, you see, daroga, I couldn't carry HIM up like that, at once. ...
He was a hostage ...
But I could not keep him in the house on the lake, either, because of Christine; so I locked him up comfortably, I chained him up nicely—a whiff of the Mazenderan scent had left him as limp as a rag—in the Communists' dungeon, which is in the most deserted and remote part of the Opera, below the fifth cellar, where no one ever comes, and where no one ever hears you.
Then I came back to Christine, she was waiting for me."
Erik here rose solemnly. Then he continued, but, as he spoke, he was overcome by all his former emotion and began to tremble like a leaf:
"Yes, she was waiting for me ... waiting for me erect and alive, a real, living bride ... as she hoped to be saved ... And, when I ... came forward, more timid than ... a little child, she did not run away ... no, no ... she stayed ... she waited for me ...
I even believe ... daroga ... that she put out her forehead ... a little ... oh, not much ... just a little ... like a living bride ...
And ... and ... I ... kissed her! ... I! ... I! ... I! ...
And she did not die! ...
Oh, how good it is, daroga, to kiss somebody on the forehead! ...
You can't tell! ... But I! I! ... My mother, daroga, my poor, unhappy mother would never ... let me kiss her ...
She used to run away ... and throw me my mask! ... Nor any other woman ... ever, ever! ... Ah, you can understand, my happiness was so great, I cried.
And I fell at her feet, crying ... and I kissed her feet ... her little feet ... crying.
You're crying, too, daroga ... and she cried also ... the angel cried! ..."
Erik sobbed aloud and the Persian himself could not retain his tears in the presence of that masked man, who, with his shoulders shaking and his hands clutched at his chest, was moaning with pain and love by turns.
"Yes, daroga ... I felt her tears flow on my forehead ... on mine, mine! ...
They were soft ... they were sweet! ... They trickled under my mask ... they mingled with my tears in my eyes ... yes ... they flowed between my lips ...
Listen, daroga, listen to what I did ... I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears ... and she did not run away! ...
And she did not die! ...
She remained alive, weeping over me, with me.
We cried together!
I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer!"
And Erik fell into a chair, choking for breath:
"Ah, I am not going to die yet ... presently I shall ... but let me cry! ...
Listen, daroga ... listen to this ... While I was at her feet ... I heard her say,
'Poor, unhappy Erik!' ... AND SHE TOOK MY HAND! ...