The Tortures Begin
The Persian’s Narrative Continued.

The voice repeated angrily: “What have you done with my bag? So it was to take my bag that you asked me to release you!”

We heard hurried steps, Christine running back to the Louis-Philippe room, as though to seek shelter on the other side of our wall.

“What are you running away for?” asked the furious voice, which had followed her. “Give me back my bag, will you? Don’t you know that it is the bag of life and death?”

“Listen to me, Erik,” sighed the girl. “As it is settled that we are to live together . . . what difference can it make to you?”

“You know there are only two keys in it,” said the monster. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to look at this room which I have never seen and which you have always kept from me . . . It’s woman’s curiosity!” she said, in a tone which she tried to render playful.

But the trick was too childish for Erik to be taken in by it.

“I don’t like curious women,” he retorted, “and you had better remember the story of BLUE-BEARD and be careful . . . Come, give me back my bag! . . . Give me back my bag! . . . Leave the key alone, will you, you inquisitive little thing?”

And he chuckled, while Christine gave a cry of pain. Erik had evidently recovered the bag from her.

At that moment, the viscount could not help uttering an exclamation of impotent rage.

“Why, what’s that?” said the monster. “Did you hear, Christine?”

“No, no,” replied the poor girl. “I heard nothing.”

“I thought I heard a cry.”

“A cry! Are you going mad, Erik? Whom do you expect to give a cry, in this house? . . . I cried out, because you hurt me! I heard nothing.”

“I don’t like the way you said that! . . . You’re trembling . . . You’re quite excited . . . You’re lying! . . . That was a cry, there was a cry! . . . There is some one in the torture-chamber! . . . Ah, I understand now!”

“There is no one there, Erik!”

“I understand!”

“No one!”

“The man you want to marry, perhaps!”

“I don’t want to marry anybody, you know I don’t.”

Another nasty chuckle. “Well, it won’t take long to find out. Christine, my love, we need not open the door to see what is happening in the torture-chamber. Would you like to see? Would you like to see? Look here! If there is some one, if there is really some one there, you will see the invisible window light up at the top, near the ceiling. We need only draw the black curtain and put out the light in here. There, that’s it . . . Let’s put out the light! You’re not afraid of the dark, when you’re with your little husband!”

Then we heard Christine’s voice of anguish:

“No! . . . I’m frightened! . . . I tell you, I’m afraid of the dark! . . . I don’t care about that room now . . . You’re always frightening me, like a child, with your torture-chamber! . . . And so I became inquisitive . . . But I don’t care about it now . . . not a bit . . . not a bit!”

And that which I feared above all things began, AUTOMATICALLY. We were suddenly flooded with light! Yes, on our side of the wall, everything seemed aglow. The Vicomte de Chagny was so much taken aback that he staggered. And the angry voice roared:

“I told you there was some one! Do you see the window now? The lighted window, right up there? The man behind the wall can’t see it! But you shall go up the folding steps: that is what they are there for! . . . You have often asked me to tell you; and now you know! . . . They are there to give a peep into the torture-chamber . . . you inquisitive little thing!”

“What tortures? . . . Who is being tortured? . . . Erik, Erik, say you are only trying to frighten me! . . . Say it, if you love me, Erik! . . . There are no tortures, are there?”

“Go and look at the little window, dear!”

I do not know if the viscount heard the girl’s swooning voice, for he was too much occupied by the astounding spectacle that now appeared before his distracted gaze. As for me, I had seen that sight too often, through the little window, at the time of the rosy hours of Mazenderan; and I cared only for what was being said next door, seeking for a hint how to act, what resolution to take.

“Go and peep through the little window! Tell me what he looks like!”

We heard the steps being dragged against the wall.

“Up with you! . . . No! . . . No, I will go up myself, dear!”

“Oh, very well, I will go up. Let me go!”

“Oh, my darling, my darling! . . . How sweet of you! . . . How nice of you to save me the exertion at my age! . . . Tell me what he looks like!”

At that moment, we distinctly heard these words above our heads:

“There is no one there, dear!”

“No one? . . . Are you sure there is no one?”

“Why, of course not . . . no one!”

“Well, that’s all right! . . . What’s the matter, Christine? You’re not going to faint, are you . . . as there is no one there? . . . Here . . . come down . . . there! . . . Pull yourself together . . . as there is no one there! . . . BUT HOW DO YOU LIKE THE LANDSCAPE?”

“Oh, very much!”

“There, that’s better! . . . You’re better now, are you not? . . . That’s all right, you’re better! . . . No excitement! . . . And what a funny house, isn’t it, with landscapes like that in it?”

“Yes, it’s like the Musee Grevin . . . But, say, Erik . . . there are no tortures in there! . . . What a fright you gave me!”
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