ne ... They kissed before me in the
Louis-Philippe room ... Christine had my ring ... I made Christine
swear to come back, one night, when I was dead, crossing the lake from
the Rue-Scribe side, and bury me in the greatest secrecy with the gold
ring, which she was to wear until that moment. ... I told her where
she would find my body and what to do with it... Then Christine kissed
me, for the first time, herself, here, on the forehead--don't look,
daroga!--here, on the forehead ... on my forehead, mine--don't look,
daroga!--and they went off together... Christine had stopped crying
... I alone cried ... Daroga, daroga, if Christine keeps her promise,
she will come back soon! ..."

The Persian asked him no questions. He was quite reassured as to the
fate of Raoul Chagny and Christine Daae; no one could have doubted the
word of the weeping Erik that night.

The monster resumed his mask and collected his strength to leave the
daroga. He told him that, when he felt his end to be very near at
hand, he would send him, in gratitude for the kindness which the
Persian had once shown him, that which he held dearest in the world:
all Christine Daae's papers, which she had written for Raoul's benefit
and left with Erik, together with a few objects belonging to her, such
as a pair of gloves, a shoe-buckle and two pocket-handkerchiefs. In
reply to the Persian's questions, Erik told him that the two young
people, at soon as they found themselves free, had resolved to go and
look for a priest in some lonely spot where they could hide their
happiness and that, with this object in view, they had started from
"the northern railway station of the world." Lastly, Erik relied on
the Persian, as soon as he received the promised relics and papers, to
inform the young couple of his death and to advertise it in the EPOQUE.

That was all. The Persian saw Erik to the door of his flat, and Darius
helped him down to the street. A cab was waiting for him. Erik
stepped in; and the Persian, who had gone back to the window, heard him
say to the driver:

"Go to the Opera."

And the cab drove off into the night.

The Persian had seen the poor, unfortunate Erik for the last time.
Three weeks later, the Epoque published this advertisement:

"Erik is dead."

Epilogue.

I have now told the singular, but veracious story of the Opera ghost.
As I declared on the first page of this work, it is no longer possible
to deny that Erik r