y, where you were
concerned, for I had seen you in your brother's box and I knew that you
were not in danger. But the voice had told me that it would be at the
performance and I was really afraid for it, just as if it had been an
ordinary person who was capable of dying. I thought to myself, 'The
chandelier may have come down upon the voice.' I was then on the stage
and was nearly running into the house, to look for the voice among the
killed and wounded, when I thought that, if the voice was safe, it
would be sure to be in my dressing-room and I rushed to my room. The
voice was not there. I locked my door and, with tears in my eyes,
besought it, if it were still alive, to manifest itself to me. The
voice did not reply, but suddenly I heard a long, beautiful wail which
I knew well. It is the plaint of Lazarus when, at the sound of the
Redeemer's voice, he begins to open his eyes and see the light of day.
It was the music which you and I, Raoul, heard at Perros. And then the
voice began to sing the leading phrase, 'Come! And believe in me!
Whoso believes in me shall live! Walk! Whoso hath believed in me
shall never die! ...' I can not tell you the effect which that music
had upon me. It seemed to command me, personally, to come, to stand up
and come to it. It retreated and I followed. 'Come! And believe in
me!' I believed in it, I came ... I came and--this was the
extraordinary thing--my dressing-room, as I moved, seemed to lengthen
out ... to lengthen out ... Evidently, it must have been an effect of
mirrors ... for I had the mirror in front of me ... And, suddenly, I
was outside the room without knowing how!"

"What! Without knowing how? Christine, Christine, you must really
stop dreaming!"

"I was not dreaming, dear, I was outside my room without knowing how.
You, who saw me disappear from my room one evening, may be able to
explain it; but I can not. I can only tell you that, suddenly, there
was no mirror before me and no dressing-room. I was in a dark passage,
I was frightened and I cried out. It was quite dark, but for a faint
red glimmer at a distant corner of the wall. I tried out. My voice
was the only sound, for the singing and the violin had stopped. And,
suddenly, a hand was laid on mine ... or rather a stone-cold, bony
thing that seized my wrist and did not let go. I cried out again. An
arm took me round the waist and supported me. I struggled for a little
while and then gave