.. Red Death! ... In a word, madam, your friend ... your Angel of
Music! ... But I shall snatch off his mask, as I shall snatch off my
own; and, this time, we shall look each other in the face, he and I,
with no veil and no lies between us; and I shall know whom you love and
who loves you!"

He burst into a mad laugh, while Christine gave a disconsolate moan
behind her velvet mask. With a tragic gesture, she flung out her two
arms, which fixed a barrier of white flesh against the door.

"In the name of our love, Raoul, you shall not pass! ..."

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 returnin