["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Chapter V The Enchanted Violin\n\n\nChristine Daae, owing to intrigues to which I will return later, did\nnot immediately continue her triumph at the Opera. After the famous\ngala night, she sang once at the Duchess de Zurich's; but this was the\nlast occasion on which she was heard in private. She refused, without\nplausible excuse, to appear at a charity concert to which she had\npromised her assistance. She acted throughout as though she were no\nlonger the mistress of her own destiny and as though she feared a fresh\ntriumph. She knew that the Comte de Chagny, to please his brother, had done his\nbest on her behalf with M. Richard; and she wrote to thank him and also\nto ask him to cease speaking in her favor. Her reason for this curious\nattitude was never known. Some pretended that it was due to\noverweening pride; others spoke of her heavenly modesty. But people on\nthe stage are not so modest as all that; and I think that I shall not\nbe far from the truth if I ascribe her action simply to fear. Yes, I\nbelieve that Christine Daae was frightened by what had happened to her. I have a letter of Christine's (it forms part of the Persian's\ncollection), relating to this period, which suggests a feeling of\nabsolute dismay:\n\n\"I don't know myself when I sing,\" writes the poor child. She showed herself nowhere; and the Vicomte de Chagny tried in vain to\nmeet her. He wrote to her, asking to call upon her, but despaired of\nreceiving a reply when, one morning, she sent him the following note:\n\nMONSIEUR:\n\nI have not forgotten the little boy who went into the sea to rescue my\nscarf. I feel that I must write to you to-day, when I am going to\nPerros, in fulfilment of a sacred duty. To-morrow is the anniversary\nof the death of my poor father, whom you knew and who was very fond of\nyou. He is buried there, with his violin, in the graveyard of the\nlittle church, at the bottom of the slope where we used to play as\nchildren, beside the road where, when we were a little bigger, we said\ngood-by for the last time. The Vicomte de Chagny hurriedly consulted a railway guide, dressed as\nquickly as he could, wrote a few lines for his valet to take to his\nbrother and jumped into a cab which brought him to the Gare\nMontparnasse just in time to miss the morning train. He spent a dismal\nday in town and did not recover his spirits until the evening, when he\nwas seated in his compartment in the Brittany express. He read\nChristine's note over and over again, smelling its perfume, recalling\nthe sweet pictures of his childhood, and spent the rest of that tedious\nnight journey in feverish dreams that began and ended with Christine\nDaae. Day was breaking when he alighted at Lannion. He hurried to the\ndiligence for Perros-Guirec. He was the only passenger. He questioned\nthe driver and learned that, on the evening of the previous day, a\nyoung lady who looked like a Parisian had gone to Perros and put up at\nthe inn known as the Setting Sun. The nearer he drew to her, the more fondly he remembered the story of\nthe little Swedish singer. Most of the details are still unknown to\nthe public. There was once, in a little market-town not far from Upsala, a peasant\nwho lived there with his family, digging the earth during the week and\nsinging in the choir on Sundays. This peasant had a little daughter to\nwhom he taught the musical alphabet before she knew how to read. Daae's father was a great musician, perhaps without knowing it. Not a\nfiddler throughout the length and breadth of Scandinavia played as he\ndid. His reputation was widespread and he was always invited to set\nthe couples dancing at weddings and other festivals. His wife died\nwhen Christine was entering upon her sixth year. Then the father, who\ncared only for his daughter and his music, sold his patch of ground and\nwent to Upsala in search of fame and fortune. He found nothing but\npoverty. He returned to the country, wandering from fair to fair, strumming his\nScandinavian melodies, while his child, who never left his side,\nlistened to him in ecstasy or sang to his playing. One day, at Ljimby\nFair, Professor Valerius heard them and took them to Gothenburg. He\nmaintained that the father was the first violinist in the world and\nthat the daughter had the making of a great artist. Her education and\ninstruction were provided for. She made rapid progress and charmed\neverybody with her prettiness, her grace of manner and her genuine\neagerness to please. When Valerius and his wife went to settle in France, they took Daae and\nChristine with them. \"Mamma\" Valerius treated Christine as her\ndaughter. As for Daae, he began to pine away with homesickness. He\nnever went out of doors in Paris, but lived in a sort of dream which he\nkept up with his violin. For hours at a time, he remained locked up in\nhis bedroom with his daughter, fiddling and singing, very, very softly. Sometimes Mamma Valerius would come and listen behind the door, wipe\naway a tear and go down-stairs again on tiptoe, sighing for her\nScandinavian skies. Daae seemed not to recover his strength until the summer, when the\nwhole family went to stay at Perros-Guirec, in a far-away corner of\nBrittany, where the sea was of the same color as in his own country. Often he would play his saddest tunes on the beach and pretend that the\nsea stopped its roaring to listen to them. And then he induced Mamma\nValerius to indulge a queer whim of his. At the time of the \"pardons,\"\nor Breton pilgrimages, the village festival and dances, he went off\nwith his fiddle, as in the old days, and was allowed to take his\ndaughter with him for a week. They gave the smallest hamlets music to\nlast them for a year and slept at night in a barn, refusing a bed at\nthe inn, lying close together on the straw, as when they were so poor\nin Sweden. At the same time, they were very neatly dressed, made no\ncollection, refused the halfpence offered them; and the people around\ncould not understand the conduct of this rustic fiddler, who tramped\nthe roads with that pretty child who sang like an angel from Heaven. They followed them from village to village. One day, a little boy, who was out with his governess, made her take a\nlonger walk than he intended, for he could not tear himself from the\nlittle girl whose pure, sweet voice seemed to bind him to her. They\ncame to the shore of an inlet which is still called Trestraou, but\nwhich now, I believe, harbors a casino or something of the sort. At\nthat time, there was nothing but sky and sea and a stretch of golden\nbeach. Only, there was also a high wind, which blew Christine's scarf\nout to sea. Christine gave a cry and put out her arms, but the scarf\nwas already far on the waves. Then she heard a voice say:\n\n\"It's all right, I'll go and fetch your scarf out of the sea.\" And she saw a little boy running fast, in spite of the outcries and the\nindignant protests of a worthy lady in black. The little boy ran into\nthe sea, dressed as he was, and brought her back her scarf. Boy and\nscarf were both soaked through. The lady in black made a great fuss,\nbut Christine laughed merrily and kissed the little boy, who was none\nother than the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, staying at Lannion with his\naunt. During the season, they saw each other and played together almost every\nday. At the aunt's request, seconded by Professor Valerius, Daae\nconsented to give the young viscount some violin lessons. In this way,\nRaoul learned to love the same airs that had charmed Christine's\nchildhood. They also both had the same calm and dreamy little cast of\nmind. They delighted in stories, in old Breton legends; and their\nfavorite sport was to go and ask for them at the cottage-doors, like\nbeggars:\n\n\"Ma'am ...\" or, \"Kind gentleman ... have you a little story to tell us,\nplease?\" And it seldom happened that they did not have one \"given\" them; for\nnearly every old Breton grandame has, at least once in her life, seen\nthe \"korrigans\" dance by moonlight on the heather.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> But their great treat was, in the twilight, in the great silence of the\nevening, after the sun had set in the sea, when Daae came and sat down\nby them on the roadside and, in a low voice, as though fearing lest he\nshould frighten the ghosts whom he evoked, told them the legends of the\nland of the North. And, the moment he stopped, the children would ask\nfor more. There was one story that began:\n\n\"A king sat in a little boat on one of those deep, still lakes that\nopen like a bright eye in the midst of the Norwegian mountains ...\"\n\nAnd another:\n\n\"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was golden\nas the sun's rays and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She\nwheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock\nand her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved, when\nshe went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music.\" While the old man told this story, Raoul looked at Christine's blue\neyes and golden hair; and Christine thought that Lotte was very lucky\nto hear the Angel of Music when she went to sleep. The Angel of Music\nplayed a part in all Daddy Daae's tales; and he maintained that every\ngreat musician, every great artist received a visit from the Angel at\nleast once in his life. Sometimes the Angel leans over their cradle,\nas happened to Lotte, and that is how there are little prodigies who\nplay the fiddle at six better than men at fifty, which, you must admit,\nis very wonderful. Sometimes, the Angel comes much later, because the\nchildren are naughty and won't learn their lessons or practise their\nscales. And, sometimes, he does not come at all, because the children\nhave a bad heart or a bad conscience. No one ever sees the Angel; but he is heard by those who are meant to\nhear him. He often comes when they least expect him, when they are sad\nand disheartened. Then their ears suddenly perceive celestial\nharmonies, a divine voice, which they remember all their lives. Persons who are visited by the Angel quiver with a thrill unknown to\nthe rest of mankind. And they can not touch an instrument, or open\ntheir mouths to sing, without producing sounds that put all other human\nsounds to shame. Then people who do not know that the Angel has\nvisited those persons say that they have genius. Little Christine asked her father if he had heard the Angel of Music. But Daddy Daae shook his head sadly; and then his eyes lit up, as he\nsaid:\n\n\"You will hear him one day, my child! When I am in Heaven, I will send\nhim to you!\" Daddy was beginning to cough at that time. Three years later, Raoul and Christine met again at Perros. Professor\nValerius was dead, but his widow remained in France with Daddy Daae and\nhis daughter, who continued to play the violin and sing, wrapping in\ntheir dream of harmony their kind patroness, who seemed henceforth to\nlive on music alone. The young man, as he now was, had come to Perros\non the chance of finding them and went straight to the house in which\nthey used to stay. He first saw the old man; and then Christine\nentered, carrying the tea-tray. She flushed at the sight of Raoul, who\nwent up to her and kissed her. She asked him a few questions,\nperformed her duties as hostess prettily, took up the tray again and\nleft the room. Then she ran into the garden and took refuge on a\nbench, a prey to feelings that stirred her young heart for the first\ntime. Raoul followed her and they talked till the evening, very shyly. They were quite changed, cautious as two diplomatists, and told each\nother things that had nothing to do with their budding sentiments. When they took leave of each other by the roadside, Raoul, pressing a\nkiss on Christine's trembling hand, said:\n\n\"Mademoiselle, I shall never forget you!\" And he went away regretting his words, for he knew that Christine could\nnot be the wife of the Vicomte de Chagny. As for Christine, she tried not to think of him and devoted herself\nwholly to her art. She made wonderful progress and those who heard her\nprophesied that she would be the greatest singer in the world. Meanwhile, the father died; and, suddenly, she seemed to have lost,\nwith him, her voice, her soul and her genius. She retained just, but\nonly just, enough of this to enter the CONSERVATOIRE, where she did not\ndistinguish herself at all, attending the classes without enthusiasm\nand taking a prize only to please old Mamma Valerius, with whom she\ncontinued to live. The first time that Raoul saw Christine at the Opera, he was charmed by\nthe girl's beauty and by the sweet images of the past which it evoked,\nbut was rather surprised at the negative side of her art. He returned\nto listen to her. He followed her in the wings. He waited for her\nbehind a Jacob's ladder. He tried to attract her attention. More than\nonce, he walked after her to the door of her box, but she did not see\nhim. She seemed, for that matter, to see nobody. She was all\nindifference. Raoul suffered, for she was very beautiful and he was\nshy and dared not confess his love, even to himself. And then came the\nlightning-flash of the gala performance: the heavens torn asunder and\nan angel's voice heard upon earth for the delight of mankind and the\nutter capture of his heart. And then ... and then there was that man's voice behind the door--\"You\nmust love me!\" --and no one in the room...\n\nWhy did she laugh when he reminded her of the incident of the scarf? Why did she not recognize him? And why had she written to him? ...\n\nPerros was reached at last. Raoul walked into the smoky sitting-room\nof the Setting Sun and at once saw Christine standing before him,\nsmiling and showing no astonishment. \"So you have come,\" she said. \"I felt that I should find you here,\nwhen I came back from mass. Some one told me so, at the church.\" \"Who?\" asked Raoul, taking her little hand in his. \"Why, my poor father, who is dead.\" There was a silence; and then Raoul asked:\n\n\"Did your father tell you that I love you, Christine, and that I can\nnot live without you?\" Christine blushed to the eyes and turned away her head. In a trembling\nvoice, she said:\n\n\"Me? You are dreaming, my friend!\" And she burst out laughing, to put herself in countenance. \"Don't laugh, Christine; I am quite serious,\" Raoul answered. And she replied gravely:  \"I did not make you come to tell me such\nthings as that.\" \"You 'made me come,' Christine; you knew that your letter would not\nleave me indignant and that I should hasten to Perros. How can you\nhave thought that, if you did not think I loved you?\" \"I thought you would remember our games here, as children, in which my\nfather so often joined. I really don't know what I thought...  Perhaps\nI was wrong to write to you ... This anniversary and your sudden\nappearance in my room at the Opera, the other evening, reminded me of\nthe time long past and made me write to you as the little girl that I\nthen was...\"\n\nThere was something in Christine's attitude that seemed to Raoul not\nnatural. He did not feel any hostility in her; far from it: the\ndistressed affection shining in her eyes told him that. But why was\nthis affection distressed? That was what he wished to know and what\nwas irritating him. \"When you saw me in your dressing-room, was that the first time you\nnoticed me, Christine?\" She was incapable of lying. \"No,\" she said, \"I had seen you several times in your brother's box. And also on the stage.\" \"I thought so!\" said Raoul, compressing his lips. \"But then why, when\nyou saw me in your room, at your feet, reminding you that I had rescued\nyour scarf from the sea, why did you answer as though you did not know\nme and also why did you laugh?\" The tone of these questions was so rough that Christine stared at Raoul\nwithout replying. The young man himself was aghast at the sudden\nquarrel which he had dared to raise at the very moment when he had\nresolved to speak words of gentleness, love and submission to\nChristine. A husband, a lover with all rights, would talk no\ndifferently to a wife, a mistress who had offended him. But he had\ngone too far and saw no other way out of the ridiculous position than\nto behave odiously. \"You don't answer!\" he said angrily and unhappily. \"Well, I will\nanswer for you.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-07 The user is reading a book]\n<User> It was because there was some one in the room who was\nin your way, Christine, some one that you did not wish to know that you\ncould be interested in any one else!\" \"If any one was in my way, my friend,\" Christine broke in coldly, \"if\nany one was in my way, that evening, it was yourself, since I told you\nto leave the room!\" \"Yes, so that you might remain with the other!\" \"What are you saying, monsieur?\" asked the girl excitedly. \"And to\nwhat other do you refer?\" \"To the man to whom you said, 'I sing only for you! ... to-night I gave\nyou my soul and I am dead!'\" Christine seized Raoul's arm and clutched it with a strength which no\none would have suspected in so frail a creature. \"Then you were listening behind the door?\" \"Yes, because I love you everything ... And I heard everything ...\"\n\n\"You heard what?\" And the young girl, becoming strangely calm, released Raoul's arm. \"He said to you, 'Christine, you must love me!'\" At these words, a deathly pallor spread over Christine's face, dark\nrings formed round her eyes, she staggered and seemed on the point of\nswooning. Raoul darted forward, with arms outstretched, but Christine\nhad overcome her passing faintness and said, in a low voice:\n\n\"Go on! Go on! Tell me all you heard!\" At an utter loss to understand, Raoul answered:  \"I heard him reply,\nwhen you said you had given him your soul, 'Your soul is a beautiful\nthing, child, and I thank you. No emperor ever received so fair a\ngift. The angels wept tonight.'\" Christine carried her hand to her heart, a prey to indescribable\nemotion. Her eyes stared before her like a madwoman's. Raoul was\nterror-stricken. But suddenly Christine's eyes moistened and two great\ntears trickled, like two pearls, down her ivory cheeks. \"Christine!\" \"Raoul!\" The young man tried to take her in his arms, but she escaped and fled\nin great disorder. While Christine remained locked in her room, Raoul was at his wit's end\nwhat to do. He refused to breakfast. He was terribly concerned and\nbitterly grieved to see the hours, which he had hoped to find so sweet,\nslip past without the presence of the young Swedish girl. Why did she\nnot come to roam with him through the country where they had so many\nmemories in common? He heard that she had had a mass said, that\nmorning, for the repose of her father's soul and spent a long time\npraying in the little church and on the fiddler's tomb. Then, as she\nseemed to have nothing more to do at Perros and, in fact, was doing\nnothing there, why did she not go back to Paris at once? Raoul walked away, dejectedly, to the graveyard in which the church\nstood and was indeed alone among the tombs, reading the inscriptions;\nbut, when he turned behind the apse, he was suddenly struck by the\ndazzling note of the flowers that straggled over the white ground. They were marvelous red roses that had blossomed in the morning, in the\nsnow, giving a glimpse of life among the dead, for death was all around\nhim. It also, like the flowers, issued from the ground, which had\nflung back a number of its corpses. Skeletons and skulls by the\nhundred were heaped against the wall of the church, held in position by\na wire that left the whole gruesome stack visible. Dead men's bones,\narranged in rows, like bricks, to form the first course upon which the\nwalls of the sacristy had been built. The door of the sacristy opened\nin the middle of that bony structure, as is often seen in old Breton\nchurches. Raoul said a prayer for Daae and then, painfully impressed by all those\neternal smiles on the mouths of skulls, he climbed the slope and sat\ndown on the edge of the heath overlooking the sea. The wind fell with\nthe evening. Raoul was surrounded by icy darkness, but he did not feel\nthe cold. It was here, he remembered, that he used to come with little\nChristine to see the Korrigans dance at the rising of the moon. He had\nnever seen any, though his eyes were good, whereas Christine, who was a\nlittle shortsighted, pretended that she had seen many. He smiled at\nthe thought and then suddenly gave a start. A voice behind him said:\n\n\"Do you think the Korrigans will come this evening?\" It was Christine. He tried to speak. She put her gloved hand on his\nmouth. \"Listen, Raoul. I have decided to tell you something serious, very\nserious ... Do you remember the legend of the Angel of Music?\" \"I do indeed,\" he said. \"I believe it was here that your father first\ntold it to us.\" \"And it was here that he said, 'When I am in Heaven, my child, I will\nsend him to you.' Well, Raoul, my father is in Heaven, and I have been\nvisited by the Angel of Music.\" \"I have no doubt of it,\" replied the young man gravely, for it seemed\nto him that his friend, in obedience to a pious thought, was connecting\nthe memory of her father with the brilliancy of her last triumph. Christine appeared astonished at the Vicomte de Chagny's coolness:\n\n\"How do you understand it?\" she asked, bringing her pale face so close\nto his that he might have thought that Christine was going to give him\na kiss; but she only wanted to read his eyes in spite of the dark. \"I understand,\" he said, \"that no human being can sing as you sang the\nother evening without the intervention of some miracle. No professor\non earth can teach you such accents as those. You have heard the Angel\nof Music, Christine.\" \"Yes,\" she said solemnly, \"IN MY DRESSING-ROOM. That is where he comes\nto give me my lessons daily.\" \"In your dressing-room?\" he echoed stupidly. \"Yes, that is where I have heard him; and I have not been the only one\nto hear him.\" \"Who else heard him, Christine?\" \"You, my friend.\" \"I? I heard the Angel of Music?\" \"Yes, the other evening, it was he who was talking when you were\nlistening behind the door. It was he who said, 'You must love me.' But\nI then thought that I was the only one to hear his voice. Imagine my\nastonishment when you told me, this morning, that you could hear him\ntoo.\" Raoul burst out laughing. The first rays of the moon came and shrouded\nthe two young people in their light. Christine turned on Raoul with a\nhostile air. Her eyes, usually so gentle, flashed fire. \"What are you laughing at? YOU think you heard a man's voice, I\nsuppose?\" \"Well! ...\" replied the young man, whose ideas began to grow confused\nin the face of Christine's determined attitude. \"It's you, Raoul, who say that? You, an old playfellow of my own! A\nfriend of my father's! But you have changed since those days. What are\nyou thinking of? I am an honest girl, M. le Vicomte de Chagny, and I\ndon't lock myself up in my dressing-room with men's voices. If you had\nopened the door, you would have seen that there was nobody in the room!\" \"That's true! I did open the door, when you were gone, and I found no\none in the room.\" \"So you see! ... Well?\" The viscount summoned up all his courage. \"Well, Christine, I think that somebody is making game of you.\" She gave a cry and ran away. He ran after her, but, in a tone of\nfierce anger, she called out:  \"Leave me! Leave me!\" And she\ndisappeared. Raoul returned to the inn feeling very weary, very low-spirited and\nvery sad. He was told that Christine had gone to her bedroom saying\nthat she would not be down to dinner. Raoul dined alone, in a very\ngloomy mood. Then he went to his room and tried to read, went to bed\nand tried to sleep. There was no sound in the next room. The hours passed slowly. It was about half-past eleven when he\ndistinctly heard some one moving, with a light, stealthy step, in the\nroom next to his. Then Christine had not gone to bed! Without\ntroubling for a reason, Raoul dressed, taking care not to make a sound,\nand waited. Waited for what? How could he tell? But his heart\nthumped in his chest when he heard Christine's door turn slowly on its\nhinges.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-07, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Where could she be going, at this hour, when every one was\nfast asleep at Perros? Softly opening the door, he saw Christine's\nwhite form, in the moonlight, slipping along the passage. She went\ndown the stairs and he leaned over the baluster above her. Suddenly he\nheard two voices in rapid conversation. He caught one sentence: \"Don't\nlose the key.\" It was the landlady's voice. The door facing the sea was opened and\nlocked again. Then all was still. Raoul ran back to his room and threw back the window. Christine's\nwhite form stood on the deserted quay. The first floor of the Setting Sun was at no great height and a tree\ngrowing against the wall held out its branches to Raoul's impatient\narms and enabled him to climb down unknown to the landlady. Her\namazement, therefore, was all the greater when, the next morning, the\nyoung man was brought back to her half frozen, more dead than alive,\nand when she learned that he had been found stretched at full length on\nthe steps of the high altar of the little church. She ran at once to\ntell Christine, who hurried down and, with the help of the landlady,\ndid her best to revive him. He soon opened his eyes and was not long\nin recovering when he saw his friend's charming face leaning over him. A few weeks later, when the tragedy at the Opera compelled the\nintervention of the public prosecutor, M. Mifroid, the commissary of\npolice, examined the Vicomte de Chagny touching the events of the night\nat Perros. I quote the questions and answers as given in the official\nreport pp. 150 et seq. :\n\nQ. \"Did Mlle. Daae not see you come down from your room by the curious\nroad which you selected?\" R. \"No, monsieur, no, although, when walking behind her, I took no\npains to deaden the sound of my footsteps. In fact, I was anxious that\nshe should turn round and see me. I realized that I had no excuse for\nfollowing her and that this way of spying on her was unworthy of me. But she seemed not to hear me and acted exactly as though I were not\nthere. She quietly left the quay and then suddenly walked quickly up\nthe road. The church-clock had struck a quarter to twelve and I\nthought that this must have made her hurry, for she began almost to run\nand continued hastening until she came to the church.\" Q. \"Was the gate open?\" R. \"Yes, monsieur, and this surprised me, but did not seem to surprise\nMlle. Daae.\" Q. \"Was there no one in the churchyard?\" R. \"I did not see any one; and, if there had been, I must have seen\nhim. The moon was shining on the snow and made the night quite light.\" Q. \"Was it possible for any one to hide behind the tombstones?\" R. \"No, monsieur. They were quite small, poor tombstones, partly\nhidden under the snow, with their crosses just above the level of the\nground. The only shadows were those of the crosses and ourselves. The\nchurch stood out quite brightly. I never saw so clear a night. It was\nvery fine and very cold and one could see everything.\" Q. \"Are you at all superstitious?\" R. \"No, monsieur, I am a practising Catholic,\"\n\nQ. \"In what condition of mind were you?\" R. \"Very healthy and peaceful, I assure you. Mlle. Daae's curious\naction in going out at that hour had worried me at first; but, as soon\nas I saw her go to the churchyard, I thought that she meant to fulfil\nsome pious duty on her father's grave and I considered this so natural\nthat I recovered all my calmness. I was only surprised that she had\nnot heard me walking behind her, for my footsteps were quite audible on\nthe hard snow. But she must have been taken up with her intentions and\nI resolved not to disturb her. She knelt down by her father's grave,\nmade the sign of the cross and began to pray. At that moment, it\nstruck midnight. At the last stroke, I saw Mlle. Daae life{sic} her\neyes to the sky and stretch out her arms as though in ecstasy. I was\nwondering what the reason could be, when I myself raised my head and\neverything within me seemed drawn toward the invisible, WHICH WAS\nPLAYING THE MOST PERFECT MUSIC! Christine and I knew that music; we\nhad heard it as children. But it had never been executed with such\ndivine art, even by M. Daae. I remembered all that Christine had told\nme of the Angel of Music. The air was The Resurrection of Lazarus,\nwhich old M. Daae used to play to us in his hours of melancholy and of\nfaith. If Christine's Angel had existed, he could not have played\nbetter, that night, on the late musician's violin. When the music\nstopped, I seemed to hear a noise from the skulls in the heap of bones;\nit was as though they were chuckling and I could not help shuddering.\" Q. \"Did it not occur to you that the musician might be hiding behind\nthat very heap of bones?\" R. \"It was the one thought that did occur to me, monsieur, so much so\nthat I omitted to follow Mlle. Daae, when she stood up and walked\nslowly to the gate. She was so much absorbed just then that I am not\nsurprised that she did not see me.\" Q. \"Then what happened that you were found in the morning lying\nhalf-dead on the steps of the high altar?\" R. \"First a skull rolled to my feet ... then another ... then another\n... It was as if I were the mark of that ghastly game of bowls. And I\nhad an idea that false step must have destroyed the balance of the\nstructure behind which our musician was concealed. This surmise seemed\nto be confirmed when I saw a shadow suddenly glide along the sacristy\nwall. I ran up. The shadow had already pushed open the door and\nentered the church. But I was quicker than the shadow and caught hold\nof a corner of its cloak. At that moment, we were just in front of the\nhigh altar; and the moonbeams fell straight upon us through the\nstained-glass windows of the apse. As I did not let go of the cloak,\nthe shadow turned round; and I saw a terrible death's head, which\ndarted a look at me from a pair of scorching eyes. I felt as if I were\nface to face with Satan; and, in the presence of this unearthly\napparition, my heart gave way, my courage failed me ... and I remember\nnothing more until I recovered consciousness at the Setting Sun.\" Chapter VI  A Visit to Box Five\n\n\nWe left M. Firmin Richard and M. Armand Moncharmin at the moment when\nthey were deciding \"to look into that little matter of Box Five.\" Leaving behind them the broad staircase which leads from the lobby\noutside the managers' offices to the stage and its dependencies, they\ncrossed the stage, went out by the subscribers' door and entered the\nhouse through the first little passage on the left. Then they made\ntheir way through the front rows of stalls and looked at Box Five on\nthe grand tier, They could not see it well, because it was half in\ndarkness and because great covers were flung over the red velvet of the\nledges of all the boxes. They were almost alone in the huge, gloomy house; and a great silence\nsurrounded them. It was the time when most of the stage-hands go out\nfor a drink. The staff had left the boards for the moment, leaving a\nscene half set. A few rays of light, a wan, sinister light, that\nseemed to have been stolen from an expiring luminary, fell through some\nopening or other upon an old tower that raised its pasteboard\nbattlements on the stage; everything, in this deceptive light, adopted\na fantastic shape. In the orchestra stalls, the drugget covering them\nlooked like an angry sea, whose glaucous waves had been suddenly\nrendered stationary by a secret order from the storm phantom, who, as\neverybody knows, is called Adamastor. MM. Moncharmin and Richard were\nthe shipwrecked mariners amid this motionless turmoil of a calico sea. They made for the left boxes, plowing their way like sailors who leave\ntheir ship and try to struggle to the shore. The eight great polished\ncolumns stood up in the dusk like so many huge piles supporting the\nthreatening, crumbling, big-bellied cliffs whose layers were\nrepresented by the circular, parallel, waving lines of the balconies of\nthe grand, first and second tiers of boxes. At the top, right on top\nof the cliff, lost in M. Lenepveu's copper ceiling, figures grinned and\ngrimaced, laughed and jeered at MM.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-09 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Richard and Moncharmin's distress. And yet these figures were usually very serious. Their names were\nIsis, Amphitrite, Hebe, Pandora, Psyche, Thetis, Pomona, Daphne,\nClytie, Galatea and Arethusa. Yes, Arethusa herself and Pandora, whom\nwe all know by her box, looked down upon the two new managers of the\nOpera, who ended by clutching at some piece of wreckage and from there\nstared silently at Box Five on the grand tier. I have said that they were distressed. At least, I presume so. M.\nMoncharmin, in any case, admits that he was impressed. To quote his\nown words, in his Memoirs:\n\n\"This moonshine about the Opera ghost in which, since we first took\nover the duties of MM. Poligny and Debienne, we had been so nicely\nsteeped\"--Moncharmin's style is not always irreproachable--\"had no\ndoubt ended by blinding my imaginative and also my visual faculties. It may be that the exceptional surroundings in which we found\nourselves, in the midst of an incredible silence, impressed us to an\nunusual extent. It may be that we were the sport of a kind of\nhallucination brought about by the semi-darkness of the theater and the\npartial gloom that filled Box Five. At any rate, I saw and Richard\nalso saw a shape in the box. Richard said nothing, nor I either. But\nwe spontaneously seized each other's hand. We stood like that for some\nminutes, without moving, with our eyes fixed on the same point; but the\nfigure had disappeared. Then we went out and, in the lobby,\ncommunicated our impressions to each other and talked about 'the\nshape.' The misfortune was that my shape was not in the least like\nRichard's. I had seen a thing like a death's head resting on the ledge\nof the box, whereas Richard saw the shape of an old woman who looked\nlike Mme. Giry. We soon discovered that we had really been the victims\nof an illusion, whereupon, without further delay and laughing like\nmadmen, we ran to Box Five on the grand tier, went inside and found no\nshape of any kind.\" Box Five is just like all the other grand tier boxes. There is nothing\nto distinguish it from any of the others. M. Moncharmin and M.\nRichard, ostensibly highly amused and laughing at each other, moved the\nfurniture of the box, lifted the cloths and the chairs and particularly\nexamined the arm-chair in which \"the man's voice\" used to sit. But\nthey saw that it was a respectable arm-chair, with no magic about it. Altogether, the box was the most ordinary box in the world, with its\nred hangings, its chairs, its carpet and its ledge covered in red\nvelvet. After, feeling the carpet in the most serious manner possible,\nand discovering nothing more here or anywhere else, they went down to\nthe corresponding box on the pit tier below. In Box Five on the pit\ntier, which is just inside the first exit from the stalls on the left,\nthey found nothing worth mentioning either. \"Those people are all making fools of us!\" Firmin Richard ended by\nexclaiming. \"It will be FAUST on Saturday:  let us both see the\nperformance from Box Five on the grand tier!\" Chapter VII  Faust and What Followed\n\n\nOn the Saturday morning, on reaching their office, the joint managers\nfound a letter from O. G. worded in these terms:\n\nMY DEAR MANAGERS:\n\nSo it is to be war between us? If you still care for peace, here is my ultimatum. It consists of the\nfour following conditions:\n\n1. You must give me back my private box; and I wish it to be at my\nfree disposal from henceforward. 2. The part of Margarita shall be sung this evening by Christine Daae. Never mind about Carlotta; she will be ill.\n\n3. I absolutely insist upon the good and loyal services of Mme. Giry,\nmy box-keeper, whom you will reinstate in her functions forthwith. 4. Let me know by a letter handed to Mme. Giry, who will see that it\nreaches me, that you accept, as your predecessors did, the conditions\nin my memorandum-book relating to my monthly allowance. I will inform\nyou later how you are to pay it to me. If you refuse, you will give FAUST to-night in a house with a curse\nupon it. Take my advice and be warned in time. O. G.\n\n\"Look here, I'm getting sick of him, sick of him!\" shouted Richard,\nbringing his fists down on his office-table. Just then, Mercier, the acting-manager, entered. \"Lachenel would like to see one of you gentlemen,\" he said. \"He says\nthat his business is urgent and he seems quite upset.\" \"Who's Lachenel?\" asked Richard. \"He's your stud-groom.\" \"What do you mean? My stud-groom?\" \"Yes, sir,\" explained Mercier, \"there are several grooms at the Opera\nand M. Lachenel is at the head of them.\" \"And what does this groom do?\" \"He has the chief management of the stable.\" \"What stable?\" \"Why, yours, sir, the stable of the Opera.\" \"Is there a stable at the Opera? Upon my word, I didn't know. Where\nis it?\" \"In the cellars, on the Rotunda side. It's a very important\ndepartment; we have twelve horses.\" \"Twelve horses! And what for, in Heaven's name?\" \"Why, we want trained horses for the processions in the Juive, The\nProfeta and so on; horses 'used to the boards.' It is the grooms'\nbusiness to teach them. M. Lachenel is very clever at it. He used to\nmanage Franconi's stables.\" \"Very well ... but what does he want?\" \"I don't know; I never saw him in such a state.\" \"He can come in.\" M. Lachenel came in, carrying a riding-whip, with which he struck his\nright boot in an irritable manner. \"Good morning, M. Lachenel,\" said Richard, somewhat impressed. \"To\nwhat do we owe the honor of your visit?\" \"Mr. Manager, I have come to ask you to get rid of the whole stable.\" \"What, you want to get rid of our horses?\" \"I'm not talking of the horses, but of the stablemen.\" \"How many stablemen have you, M. Lachenel?\" \"Six stablemen! That's at least two too many.\" \"These are 'places,'\" Mercier interposed, \"created and forced upon us\nby the under-secretary for fine arts. They are filled by protegees of\nthe government and, if I may venture to ...\"\n\n\"I don't care a hang for the government!\" roared Richard. \"We don't\nneed more than four stablemen for twelve horses.\" \"Eleven,\" said the head riding-master, correcting him. \"Twelve,\" repeated Richard. \"Eleven,\" repeated Lachenel. \"Oh, the acting-manager told me that you had twelve horses!\" \"I did have twelve, but I have only eleven since Cesar was stolen.\" And M. Lachenel gave himself a great smack on the boot with his whip. \"Has Cesar been stolen?\" cried the acting-manager. \"Cesar, the white\nhorse in the Profeta?\" \"There are not two Cesars,\" said the stud-groom dryly. \"I was ten\nyears at Franconi's and I have seen plenty of horses in my time. Well,\nthere are not two Cesars. And he's been stolen.\" \"How?\" \"I don't know. Nobody knows. That's why I have come to ask you to\nsack the whole stable.\" \"What do your stablemen say?\" \"All sorts of nonsense. Some of them accuse the supers. Others\npretend that it's the acting-manager's doorkeeper ...\"\n\n\"My doorkeeper? I'll answer for him as I would for myself!\" protested\nMercier. \"But, after all, M. Lachenel,\" cried Richard, \"you must have some idea.\" \"Yes, I have,\" M. Lachenel declared. \"I have an idea and I'll tell you\nwhat it is. There's no doubt about it in my mind.\" He walked up to the\ntwo managers and whispered. \"It's the ghost who did the trick!\" Richard gave a jump. \"What, you too! You too!\" \"How do you mean, I too? Isn't it natural, after what I saw?\" \"What did you see?\" \"I saw, as clearly as I now see you, a black shadow riding a white\nhorse that was as like Cesar as two peas!\" \"And did you run after them?\" \"I did and I shouted, but they were too fast for me and disappeared in\nthe darkness of the underground gallery.\" M. Richard rose. \"That will do, M. Lachenel.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-09, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-12 The user is reading a book]\n<User> You can go ...  We will\nlodge a complaint against THE GHOST.\" \"And sack my stable?\" \"Oh, of course! Good morning.\" M. Lachenel bowed and withdrew. Richard foamed at the mouth. \"Settle that idiot's account at once, please.\" \"He is a friend of the government representative's!\" Mercier ventured\nto say. \"And he takes his vermouth at Tortoni's with Lagrene, Scholl and\nPertuiset, the lion-hunter,\" added Moncharmin. \"We shall have the\nwhole press against us! He'll tell the story of the ghost; and\neverybody will be laughing at our expense! We may as well be dead as\nridiculous!\" \"All right, say no more about it.\" At that moment the door opened. It must have been deserted by its\nusual Cerberus, for Mme. Giry entered without ceremony, holding a\nletter in her hand, and said hurriedly:\n\n\"I beg your pardon, excuse me, gentlemen, but I had a letter this\nmorning from the Opera ghost. He told me to come to you, that you had\nsomething to ...\"\n\nShe did not complete the sentence. She saw Firmin Richard's face; and\nit was a terrible sight. He seemed ready to burst. He said nothing,\nhe could not speak. But suddenly he acted. First, his left arm seized\nupon the quaint person of Mme. Giry and made her describe so unexpected\na semicircle that she uttered a despairing cry. Next, his right foot\nimprinted its sole on the black taffeta of a skirt which certainly had\nnever before undergone a similar outrage in a similar place. The thing\nhappened so quickly that Mme. Giry, when in the passage, was still\nquite bewildered and seemed not to understand. But, suddenly, she\nunderstood; and the Opera rang with her indignant yells, her violent\nprotests and threats. About the same time, Carlotta, who had a small house of her own in the\nRue du Faubourg St. Honore, rang for her maid, who brought her letters\nto her bed. Among them was an anonymous missive, written in red ink,\nin a hesitating, clumsy hand, which ran:\n\nIf you appear to-night, you must be prepared for a great misfortune at\nthe moment when you open your mouth to sing ... a misfortune worse than\ndeath. The letter took away Carlotta's appetite for breakfast. She pushed\nback her chocolate, sat up in bed and thought hard. It was not the\nfirst letter of the kind which she had received, but she never had one\ncouched in such threatening terms. She thought herself, at that time, the victim of a thousand jealous\nattempts and went about saying that she had a secret enemy who had\nsworn to ruin her. She pretended that a wicked plot was being hatched\nagainst her, a cabal which would come to a head one of those days; but\nshe added that she was not the woman to be intimidated. The truth is that, if there was a cabal, it was led by Carlotta herself\nagainst poor Christine, who had no suspicion of it. Carlotta had never\nforgiven Christine for the triumph which she had achieved when taking\nher place at a moment's notice. When Carlotta heard of the astounding\nreception bestowed upon her understudy, she was at once cured of an\nincipient attack of bronchitis and a bad fit of sulking against the\nmanagement and lost the slightest inclination to shirk her duties. From that time, she worked with all her might to \"smother\" her rival,\nenlisting the services of influential friends to persuade the managers\nnot to give Christine an opportunity for a fresh triumph. Certain\nnewspapers which had begun to extol the talent of Christine now\ninterested themselves only in the fame of Carlotta. Lastly, in the\ntheater itself, the celebrated, but heartless and soulless diva made\nthe most scandalous remarks about Christine and tried to cause her\nendless minor unpleasantnesses. When Carlotta had finished thinking over the threat contained in the\nstrange letter, she got up. \"We shall see,\" she said, adding a few oaths in her native Spanish with\na very determined air. The first thing she saw, when looking out of her window, was a hearse. She was very superstitious; and the hearse and the letter convinced her\nthat she was running the most serious dangers that evening. She\ncollected all her supporters, told them that she was threatened at that\nevening's performance with a plot organized by Christine Daae and\ndeclared that they must play a trick upon that chit by filling the\nhouse with her, Carlotta's, admirers. She had no lack of them, had\nshe? She relied upon them to hold themselves prepared for any\neventuality and to silence the adversaries, if, as she feared, they\ncreated a disturbance. M. Richard's private secretary called to ask after the diva's health\nand returned with the assurance that she was perfectly well and that,\n\"were she dying,\" she would sing the part of Margarita that evening. The secretary urged her, in his chief's name, to commit no imprudence,\nto stay at home all day and to be careful of drafts; and Carlotta could\nnot help, after he had gone, comparing this unusual and unexpected\nadvice with the threats contained in the letter. It was five o'clock when the post brought a second anonymous letter in\nthe same hand as the first. It was short and said simply:\n\nYou have a bad cold. If you are wise, you will see that it is madness\nto try to sing to-night. Carlotta sneered, shrugged her handsome shoulders and sang two or three\nnotes to reassure herself. Her friends were faithful to their promise. They were all at the Opera\nthat night, but looked round in vain for the fierce conspirators whom\nthey were instructed to suppress. The only unusual thing was the\npresence of M. Richard and M. Moncharmin in Box Five. Carlotta's\nfriends thought that, perhaps, the managers had wind, on their side, of\nthe proposed disturbance and that they had determined to be in the\nhouse, so as to stop it then and there; but this was unjustifiable\nsupposition, as the reader knows. M. Richard and M. Moncharmin were\nthinking of nothing but their ghost. \"Vain! In vain do I call, through my vigil weary, On creation and its\nLord! Never reply will break the silence dreary! No sign! No single\nword!\" The famous baritone, Carolus Fonta, had hardly finished Doctor Faust's\nfirst appeal to the powers of darkness, when M. Firmin Richard, who was\nsitting in the ghost's own chair, the front chair on the right, leaned\nover to his partner and asked him chaffingly:\n\n\"Well, has the ghost whispered a word in your ear yet?\" \"Wait, don't be in such a hurry,\" replied M. Armand Moncharmin, in the\nsame gay tone. \"The performance has only begun and you know that the\nghost does not usually come until the middle of the first act.\" The first act passed without incident, which did not surprise\nCarlotta's friends, because Margarita does not sing in this act. As\nfor the managers, they looked at each other, when the curtain fell. \"That's one!\" said Moncharmin. \"Yes, the ghost is late,\" said Firmin Richard. \"It's not a bad house,\" said Moncharmin, \"for 'a house with a curse on\nit.'\" M. Richard smiled and pointed to a fat, rather vulgar woman, dressed in\nblack, sitting in a stall in the middle of the auditorium with a man in\na broadcloth frock-coat on either side of her. \"Who on earth are 'those?'\" asked Moncharmin. \"'Those,' my dear fellow, are my concierge, her husband and her\nbrother.\" \"Did you give them their tickets?\" \"I did ... My concierge had never been to the Opera--this is, the first\ntime--and, as she is now going to come every night, I wanted her to\nhave a good seat, before spending her time showing other people to\ntheirs.\" Moncharmin asked what he meant and Richard answered that he had\npersuaded his concierge, in whom he had the greatest confidence, to\ncome and take Mme. Giry's place. Yes, he would like to see if, with\nthat woman instead of the old lunatic, Box Five would continue to\nastonish the natives? \"By the way,\" said Moncharmin, \"you know that Mother Giry is going to\nlodge a complaint against you.\" \"With whom? The ghost?\" The ghost! Moncharmin had almost forgotten him. However, that\nmysterious person did nothing to bring himself to the memory of the\nmanagers; and they were just saying so to each other for the second\ntime, when the door of the box suddenly opened to admit the startled\nstage-manager. \"What's the matter?\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-12, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-14 The user is reading a book]\n<User> they both asked, amazed at seeing him there at\nsuch a time. \"It seems there's a plot got up by Christine Daae's friends against\nCarlotta. Carlotta's furious.\" \"What on earth ... ?\" said Richard, knitting his brows. But the curtain rose on the kermess scene and Richard made a sign to\nthe stage-manager to go away. When the two were alone again,\nMoncharmin leaned over to Richard:\n\n\"Then Daae has friends?\" he asked. \"Yes, she has.\" \"Whom?\" Richard glanced across at a box on the grand tier containing no one but\ntwo men. \"The Comte de Chagny?\" \"Yes, he spoke to me in her favor with such warmth that, if I had not\nknown him to be Sorelli's friend ...\"\n\n\"Really? Really?\" said Moncharmin. \"And who is that pale young man\nbeside him?\" \"That's his brother, the viscount.\" \"He ought to be in his bed. He looks ill.\"\n\nThe stage rang with gay song:\n\n            \"Red or white liquor,\n            Coarse or fine! What can it matter,\n            So we have wine?\" Students, citizens, soldiers, girls and matrons whirled light-heartedly\nbefore the inn with the figure of Bacchus for a sign. Siebel made her\nentrance. Christine Daae looked charming in her boy's clothes; and\nCarlotta's partisans expected to hear her greeted with an ovation which\nwould have enlightened them as to the intentions of her friends. But\nnothing happened. On the other hand, when Margarita crossed the stage and sang the only\ntwo lines allotted her in this second act:\n\n         \"No, my lord, not a lady am I, nor yet a beauty,\n         And do not need an arm to help me on my way,\"\n\nCarlotta was received with enthusiastic applause. It was so unexpected\nand so uncalled for that those who knew nothing about the rumors looked\nat one another and asked what was happening. And this act also was\nfinished without incident. Then everybody said:  \"Of course, it will be during the next act.\" Some, who seemed to be better informed than the rest, declared that the\n\"row\" would begin with the ballad of the KING OF THULE and rushed to\nthe subscribers' entrance to warn Carlotta. The managers left the box\nduring the entr'acte to find out more about the cabal of which the\nstage-manager had spoken; but they soon returned to their seats,\nshrugging their shoulders and treating the whole affair as silly. The first thing they saw, on entering the box, was a box of English\nsweets on the little shelf of the ledge. Who had put it there? They\nasked the box-keepers, but none of them knew. Then they went back to\nthe shelf and, next to the box of sweets, found an opera glass. They\nlooked at each other. They had no inclination to laugh. All that Mme. Giry had told them returned to their memory ... and then ... and then\n... they seemed to feel a curious sort of draft around them ... They\nsat down in silence. The scene represented Margarita's garden:\n\n            \"Gentle flow'rs in the dew,\n                Be message from me ...\"\n\nAs she sang these first two lines, with her bunch of roses and lilacs\nin her hand, Christine, raising her head, saw the Vicomte de Chagny in\nhis box; and, from that moment, her voice seemed less sure, less\ncrystal-clear than usual. Something seemed to deaden and dull her\nsinging...\n\n\"What a queer girl she is!\" said one of Carlotta's friends in the\nstalls, almost aloud. \"The other day she was divine; and to-night\nshe's simply bleating. She has no experience, no training.\" \"Gentle flow'rs, lie ye there\n                And tell her from me ...\"\n\nThe viscount put his head under his hands and wept. The count, behind\nhim, viciously gnawed his mustache, shrugged his shoulders and frowned. For him, usually so cold and correct, to betray his inner feelings like\nthat, by outward signs, the count must be very angry. He was. He had\nseen his brother return from a rapid and mysterious journey in an\nalarming state of health. The explanation that followed was\nunsatisfactory and the count asked Christine Daae for an appointment. She had the audacity to reply that she could not see either him or his\nbrother...\n\n            \"Would she but deign to hear me\n            And with one smile to cheer me ...\"\n\n\"The little baggage!\" growled the count. And he wondered what she wanted. What she was hoping for... She was a\nvirtuous girl, she was said to have no friend, no protector of any sort\n...  That angel from the North must be very artful! Raoul, behind the curtain of his hands that veiled his boyish tears,\nthought only of the letter which he received on his return to Paris,\nwhere Christine, fleeing from Perros like a thief in the night, had\narrived before him:\n\nMY DEAR LITTLE PLAYFELLOW:\n\nYou must have the courage not to see me again, not to speak of me\nagain. If you love me just a little, do this for me, for me who will\nnever forget you, my dear Raoul. My life depends upon it. Your life\ndepends upon it. YOUR LITTLE CHRISTINE. Thunders of applause. Carlotta made her entrance. \"I wish I could but know who was he\n           That addressed me,\n           If he was noble, or, at least, what his name is ...\"\n\nWhen Margarita had finished singing the ballad of the KING OF THULE,\nshe was loudly cheered and again when she came to the end of the jewel\nsong:\n\n            \"Ah, the joy of past compare\n            These jewels bright to wear! ...\"\n\nThenceforth, certain of herself, certain of her friends in the house,\ncertain of her voice and her success, fearing nothing, Carlotta flung\nherself into her part without restraint of modesty ...  She was no\nlonger Margarita, she was Carmen. She was applauded all the more; and\nher debut with Faust seemed about to bring her a new success, when\nsuddenly ... a terrible thing happened. Faust had knelt on one knee:\n\n         \"Let me gaze on the form below me,\n             While from yonder ether blue\n         Look how the star of eve, bright and tender,\n                lingers o'er me,\n             To love thy beauty too!\" And Margarita replied:\n\n         \"Oh, how strange! Like a spell does the evening bind me! And a deep languid charm\n         I feel without alarm\n             With its melody enwind me\n         And all my heart subdue.\" At that moment, at that identical moment, the terrible thing\nhappened... Carlotta croaked like a toad:\n\n\"Co-ack!\" There was consternation on Carlotta's face and consternation on the\nfaces of all the audience. The two managers in their box could not\nsuppress an exclamation of horror. Every one felt that the thing was\nnot natural, that there was witchcraft behind it. That toad smelt of\nbrimstone. Poor, wretched, despairing, crushed Carlotta! The uproar in the house was indescribable. If the thing had happened\nto any one but Carlotta, she would have been hooted. But everybody\nknew how perfect an instrument her voice was; and there was no display\nof anger, but only of horror and dismay, the sort of dismay which men\nwould have felt if they had witnessed the catastrophe that broke the\narms of the Venus de Milo...  And even then they would have seen ...\nand understood ... But here that toad was incomprehensible! So much so that, after some\nseconds spent in asking herself if she had really heard that note, that\nsound, that infernal noise issue from her throat, she tried to persuade\nherself that it was not so, that she was the victim of an illusion, an\nillusion of the ear, and not of an act of treachery on the part of her\nvoice.... Meanwhile, in Box Five, Moncharmin and Richard had turned very pale. This extraordinary and inexplicable incident filled them with a dread\nwhich was the more mysterious inasmuch as for some little while, they\nhad fallen within the direct influence of the ghost. They had felt his\nbreath. Moncharmin's hair stood on end. Richard wiped the\nperspiration from his forehead. Yes, the ghost was there, around them,\nbehind them, beside them; they felt his presence without seeing him,\nthey heard his breath, close, close, close to them! ... They were sure\nthat there were three people in the box ... They trembled ... They\nthought of running away ... They dared not ... They dared not make a\nmovement or exchange a word that would have told the ghost that they\nknew that he was there! ... What was going to happen? This happened. \"Co-ack!\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-14, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-15 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Their joint exclamation of horror was heard all over the\nhouse. THEY FELT THAT THEY WERE SMARTING UNDER THE GHOST'S ATTACKS. Leaning over the ledge of their box, they stared at Carlotta as though\nthey did not recognize her. That infernal girl must have given the\nsignal for some catastrophe. Ah, they were waiting for the\ncatastrophe! The ghost had told them it would come! The house had a\ncurse upon it! The two managers gasped and panted under the weight of\nthe catastrophe. Richard's stifled voice was heard calling to Carlotta:\n\n\"Well, go on!\" No, Carlotta did not go on ...  Bravely, heroically, she started afresh\non the fatal line at the end of which the toad had appeared. An awful silence succeeded the uproar. Carlotta's voice alone once\nmore filled the resounding house:\n\n\"I feel without alarm ...\"\n\nThe audience also felt, but not without alarm. ..\n\n        \"I feel without alarm ... I feel without alarm--co-ack! With its melody enwind me--co-ack! And all my heart sub--co-ack!\" The toad also had started afresh! The house broke into a wild tumult. The two managers collapsed in\ntheir chairs and dared not even turn round; they had not the strength;\nthe ghost was chuckling behind their backs! And, at last, they\ndistinctly heard his voice in their right ears, the impossible voice,\nthe mouthless voice, saying:\n\n\"SHE IS SINGING TO-NIGHT TO BRING THE CHANDELIER DOWN!\" With one accord, they raised their eyes to the ceiling and uttered a\nterrible cry. The chandelier, the immense mass of the chandelier was\nslipping down, coming toward them, at the call of that fiendish voice. Released from its hook, it plunged from the ceiling and came smashing\ninto the middle of the stalls, amid a thousand shouts of terror. A\nwild rush for the doors followed. The papers of the day state that there were numbers wounded and one\nkilled. The chandelier had crashed down upon the head of the wretched\nwoman who had come to the Opera for the first time in her life, the one\nwhom M. Richard had appointed to succeed Mme. Giry, the ghost's\nbox-keeper, in her functions! She died on the spot and, the next\nmorning, a newspaper appeared with this heading:\n\nTWO HUNDRED KILOS ON THE HEAD OF A CONCIERGE\n\nThat was her sole epitaph! Chapter VIII  The Mysterious Brougham\n\n\nThat tragic evening was bad for everybody. Carlotta fell ill.  As for\nChristine Daae, she disappeared after the performance. A fortnight\nelapsed during which she was seen neither at the Opera nor outside. Raoul, of course, was the first to be astonished at the prima donna's\nabsence. He wrote to her at Mme. Valerius' flat and received no reply. His grief increased and he ended by being seriously alarmed at never\nseeing her name on the program. FAUST was played without her. One afternoon he went to the managers' office to ask the reason of\nChristine's disappearance. He found them both looking extremely\nworried. Their own friends did not recognize them: they had lost all\ntheir gaiety and spirits. They were seen crossing the stage with\nhanging heads, care-worn brows, pale cheeks, as though pursued by some\nabominable thought or a prey to some persistent sport of fate. The fall of the chandelier had involved them in no little\nresponsibility; but it was difficult to make them speak about it. The\ninquest had ended in a verdict of accidental death, caused by the wear\nand tear of the chains by which the chandelier was hung from the\nceiling; but it was the duty of both the old and the new managers to\nhave discovered this wear and tear and to have remedied it in time. And I feel bound to say that MM. Richard and Moncharmin at this time\nappeared so changed, so absent-minded, so mysterious, so\nincomprehensible that many of the subscribers thought that some event\neven more horrible than the fall of the chandelier must have affected\ntheir state of mind. In their daily intercourse, they showed themselves very impatient,\nexcept with Mme. Giry, who had been reinstated in her functions. And\ntheir reception of the Vicomte de Chagny, when he came to ask about\nChristine, was anything but cordial. They merely told him that she was\ntaking a holiday. He asked how long the holiday was for, and they\nreplied curtly that it was for an unlimited period, as Mlle. Daae had\nrequested leave of absence for reasons of health. \"Then she is ill!\" he cried. \"What is the matter with her?\" \"We don't know.\" \"Didn't you send the doctor of the Opera to see her?\" \"No, she did not ask for him; and, as we trust her, we took her word.\" Raoul left the building a prey to the gloomiest thoughts. He resolved,\ncome what might, to go and inquire of Mamma Valerius. He remembered\nthe strong phrases in Christine's letter, forbidding him to make any\nattempt to see her. But what he had seen at Perros, what he had heard\nbehind the dressing-room door, his conversation with Christine at the\nedge of the moor made him suspect some machination which, devilish\nthough it might be, was none the less human. The girl's highly strung\nimagination, her affectionate and credulous mind, the primitive\neducation which had surrounded her childhood with a circle of legends,\nthe constant brooding over her dead father and, above all, the state of\nsublime ecstasy into which music threw her from the moment that this\nart was made manifest to her in certain exceptional conditions, as in\nthe churchyard at Perros; all this seemed to him to constitute a moral\nground only too favorable for the malevolent designs of some mysterious\nand unscrupulous person. Of whom was Christine Daae the victim? This\nwas the very reasonable question which Raoul put to himself as he\nhurried off to Mamma Valerius. He trembled as he rang at a little flat in the Rue\nNotre-Dame-des-Victoires. The door was opened by the maid whom he had\nseen coming out of Christine's dressing-room one evening. He asked if\nhe could speak to Mme. Valerius. He was told that she was ill in bed\nand was not receiving visitors. \"Take in my card, please,\" he said. The maid soon returned and showed him into a small and scantily\nfurnished drawing-room, in which portraits of Professor Valerius and\nold Daae hung on opposite walls. \"Madame begs Monsieur le Vicomte to excuse her,\" said the servant. \"She can only see him in her bedroom, because she can no longer stand\non her poor legs.\" Five minutes later, Raoul was ushered into an ill-lit room where he at\nonce recognized the good, kind face of Christine's benefactress in the\nsemi-darkness of an alcove. Mamma Valerius' hair was now quite white,\nbut her eyes had grown no older; never, on the contrary, had their\nexpression been so bright, so pure, so child-like. \"M. de Chagny!\" she cried gaily, putting out both her hands to her\nvisitor. \"Ah, it's Heaven that sends you here! ... We can talk of HER.\" This last sentence sounded very gloomily in the young man's ears. He\nat once asked:\n\n\"Madame ... where is Christine?\" And the old lady replied calmly:\n\n\"She is with her good genius!\" \"What good genius?\" exclaimed poor Raoul. \"Why, the Angel of Music!\" The viscount dropped into a chair. Really? Christine was with the\nAngel of Music? And there lay Mamma Valerius in bed, smiling to him\nand putting her finger to her lips, to warn him to be silent! And she\nadded:\n\n\"You must not tell anybody!\" \"You can rely on me,\" said Raoul. He hardly knew what he was saying, for his ideas about Christine,\nalready greatly confused, were becoming more and more entangled; and it\nseemed as if everything was beginning to turn around him, around the\nroom, around that extraordinary good lady with the white hair and\nforget-me-not eyes. \"I know! I know I can!\" she said, with a happy laugh. \"But why don't\nyou come near me, as you used to do when you were a little boy? Give\nme your hands, as when you brought me the story of little Lotte, which\nDaddy Daae had told you. I am very fond of you, M. Raoul, you know. And so is Christine too!\" \"She is fond of me!\" sighed the young man.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-15, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-18 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He found a difficulty in\ncollecting his thoughts and bringing them to bear on Mamma Valerius'\n\"good genius,\" on the Angel of Music of whom Christine had spoken to\nhim so strangely, on the death's head which he had seen in a sort of\nnightmare on the high altar at Perros and also on the Opera ghost,\nwhose fame had come to his ears one evening when he was standing behind\nthe scenes, within hearing of a group of scene-shifters who were\nrepeating the ghastly description which the hanged man, Joseph Buquet,\nhad given of the ghost before his mysterious death. He asked in a low voice:  \"What makes you think that Christine is fond\nof me, madame?\" \"She used to speak of you every day.\" \"Really? ... And what did she tell you?\" \"She told me that you had made her a proposal!\" And the good old lady began laughing wholeheartedly. Raoul sprang from\nhis chair, flushing to the temples, suffering agonies. \"What's this? Where are you going? Sit down again at once, will you? ... Do you think I will let you go like that? ... If you're angry with\nme for laughing, I beg your pardon... After all, what has happened\nisn't your fault... Didn't you know? ... Did you think that Christine\nwas free? ...\"\n\n\"Is Christine engaged to be married?\" the wretched Raoul asked, in a\nchoking voice. \"Why no! Why no! ... You know as well as I do that Christine couldn't\nmarry, even if she wanted to!\" \"But I don't know anything about it! ... And why can't Christine marry?\" \"Because of the Angel of Music, of course! ...\"\n\n\"I don't follow ...\"\n\n\"Yes, he forbids her to! ...\"\n\n\"He forbids her! ... The Angel of Music forbids her to marry!\" \"Oh, he forbids her ... without forbidding her. It's like this: he\ntells her that, if she got married, she would never hear him again. That's all! ... And that he would go away for ever! ... So, you\nunderstand, she can't let the Angel of Music go. It's quite natural.\" \"Yes, yes,\" echoed Raoul submissively, \"it's quite natural.\" \"Besides, I thought Christine had told you all that, when she met you\nat Perros, where she went with her good genius.\" \"Oh, she went to Perros with her good genius, did she?\" \"That is to say, he arranged to meet her down there, in Perros\nchurchyard, at Daae's grave. He promised to play her The Resurrection\nof Lazarus on her father's violin!\" Raoul de Chagny rose and, with a very authoritative air, pronounced\nthese peremptory words:\n\n\"Madame, you will have the goodness to tell me where that genius lives.\" The old lady did not seem surprised at this indiscreet command. She\nraised her eyes and said:\n\n\"In Heaven!\" Such simplicity baffled him. He did not know what to say in the\npresence of this candid and perfect faith in a genius who came down\nnightly from Heaven to haunt the dressing-rooms at the Opera. He now realized the possible state of mind of a girl brought up between\na superstitious fiddler and a visionary old lady and he shuddered when\nhe thought of the consequences of it all. \"Is Christine still a good girl?\" he asked suddenly, in spite of\nhimself. \"I swear it, as I hope to be saved!\" exclaimed the old woman, who, this\ntime, seemed to be incensed. \"And, if you doubt it, sir, I don't know\nwhat you are here for!\" Raoul tore at his gloves. \"How long has she known this 'genius?'\" \"About three months ... Yes, it's quite three months since he began to\ngive her lessons.\" The viscount threw up his arms with a gesture of despair. \"The genius gives her lessons! ... And where, pray?\" \"Now that she has gone away with him, I can't say; but, up to a\nfortnight ago, it was in Christine's dressing-room. It would be\nimpossible in this little flat. The whole house would hear them. Whereas, at the Opera, at eight o'clock in the morning, there is no one\nabout, do you see!\" \"Yes, I see! I see!\" cried the viscount. And he hurriedly took leave of Mme. Valerius, who asked herself if the\nyoung nobleman was not a little off his head. He walked home to his brother's house in a pitiful state. He could\nhave struck himself, banged his head against the walls! To think that\nhe had believed in her innocence, in her purity! The Angel of Music! He knew him now! He saw him! It was beyond a doubt some unspeakable\ntenor, a good-looking jackanapes, who mouthed and simpered as he sang! He thought himself as absurd and as wretched as could be. Oh, what a\nmiserable, little, insignificant, silly young man was M. le Vicomte de\nChagny! thought Raoul, furiously. And she, what a bold and damnable\nsly creature! His brother was waiting for him and Raoul fell into his arms, like a\nchild. The count consoled him, without asking for explanations; and\nRaoul would certainly have long hesitated before telling him the story\nof the Angel of Music. His brother suggested taking him out to dinner. Overcome as he was with despair, Raoul would probably have refused any\ninvitation that evening, if the count had not, as an inducement, told\nhim that the lady of his thoughts had been seen, the night before, in\ncompany of the other sex in the Bois. At first, the viscount refused\nto believe; but he received such exact details that he ceased\nprotesting. She had been seen, it appeared, driving in a brougham,\nwith the window down. She seemed to be slowly taking in the icy night\nair. There was a glorious moon shining. She was recognized beyond a\ndoubt. As for her companion, only his shadowy outline was\ndistinguished leaning back in the dark. The carriage was going at a\nwalking pace in a lonely drive behind the grand stand at Longchamp. Raoul dressed in frantic haste, prepared to forget his distress by\nflinging himself, as people say, into \"the vortex of pleasure.\" Alas,\nhe was a very sorry guest and, leaving his brother early, found\nhimself, by ten o'clock in the evening, in a cab, behind the Longchamp\nrace-course. It was bitterly cold. The road seemed deserted and very bright under\nthe moonlight. He told the driver to wait for him patiently at the\ncorner of a near turning and, hiding himself as well as he could, stood\nstamping his feet to keep warm. He had been indulging in this healthy\nexercise for half an hour or so, when a carriage turned the corner of\nthe road and came quietly in his direction, at a walking pace. As it approached, he saw that a woman was leaning her head from the\nwindow. And, suddenly, the moon shed a pale gleam over her features. \"Christine!\" The sacred name of his love had sprung from his heart and his lips. He\ncould not keep it back... He would have given anything to withdraw it,\nfor that name, proclaimed in the stillness of the night, had acted as\nthough it were the preconcerted signal for a furious rush on the part\nof the whole turn-out, which dashed past him before he could put into\nexecution his plan of leaping at the horses' heads. The carriage\nwindow had been closed and the girl's face had disappeared. And the\nbrougham, behind which he was now running, was no more than a black\nspot on the white road. He called out again:  \"Christine!\" No reply. And he stopped in the midst of the silence. With a lack-luster eye, he stared down that cold, desolate road and\ninto the pale, dead night. Nothing was colder than his heart, nothing\nhalf so dead:  he had loved an angel and now he despised a woman! Raoul, how that little fairy of the North has trifled with you! Was it\nreally, was it really necessary to have so fresh and young a face, a\nforehead so shy and always ready to cover itself with the pink blush of\nmodesty in order to pass in the lonely night, in a carriage and pair,\naccompanied by a mysterious lover? Surely there should be some limit\nto hypocrisy and lying! ...\n\nShe had passed without answering his cry ...  And he was thinking of\ndying; and he was twenty years old! ...\n\nHis valet found him in the morning sitting on his bed. He had not\nundressed and the servant feared, at the sight of his face, that some\ndisaster had occurred. Raoul snatched his letters from the man's\nhands.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-18, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-19 The user is reading a book]\n<User> He had recognized Christine's paper and hand-writing. She said:\n\nDEAR:\n\nGo to the masked ball at the Opera on the night after to-morrow. At\ntwelve o'clock, be in the little room behind the chimney-place of the\nbig crush-room. Stand near the door that leads to the Rotunda. Don't\nmention this appointment to any one on earth. Wear a white domino and\nbe carefully masked. As you love me, do not let yourself be\nrecognized. CHRISTINE. Chapter IX  At the Masked Ball\n\n\nThe envelope was covered with mud and unstamped. It bore the words \"To\nbe handed to M. le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny,\" with the address in\npencil. It must have been flung out in the hope that a passer-by would\npick up the note and deliver it, which was what happened. The note had\nbeen picked up on the pavement of the Place de l'Opera. Raoul read it over again with fevered eyes. No more was needed to\nrevive his hope. The somber picture which he had for a moment imagined\nof a Christine forgetting her duty to herself made way for his original\nconception of an unfortunate, innocent child, the victim of imprudence\nand exaggerated sensibility. To what extent, at this time, was she\nreally a victim? Whose prisoner was she? Into what whirlpool had she\nbeen dragged? He asked himself these questions with a cruel anguish;\nbut even this pain seemed endurable beside the frenzy into which he was\nthrown at the thought of a lying and deceitful Christine. What had\nhappened? What influence had she undergone? What monster had carried\nher off and by what means? ...\n\nBy what means indeed but that of music? He knew Christine's story. After her father's death, she acquired a distaste of everything in\nlife, including her art. She went through the CONSERVATOIRE like a\npoor soulless singing-machine. And, suddenly, she awoke as though\nthrough the intervention of a god. The Angel of Music appeared upon\nthe scene! She sang Margarita in FAUST and triumphed! ... The Angel of Music! ... For three months the Angel of Music had been\ngiving Christine lessons ...  Ah, he was a punctual singing-master! ...\nAnd now he was taking her for drives in the Bois! ...\n\nRaoul's fingers clutched at his flesh, above his jealous heart. In his\ninexperience, he now asked himself with terror what game the girl was\nplaying? Up to what point could an opera-singer make a fool of a\ngood-natured young man, quite new to love? O misery! ... Thus did Raoul's thoughts fly from one extreme to the other. He no\nlonger knew whether to pity Christine or to curse her; and he pitied\nand cursed her turn and turn about. At all events, he bought a white\ndomino. The hour of the appointment came at last. With his face in a mask\ntrimmed with long, thick lace, looking like a pierrot in his white\nwrap, the viscount thought himself very ridiculous. Men of the world\ndo not go to the Opera ball in fancy-dress! It was absurd. One\nthought, however, consoled the viscount:  he would certainly never be\nrecognized! This ball was an exceptional affair, given some time before Shrovetide,\nin honor of the anniversary of the birth of a famous draftsman; and it\nwas expected to be much gayer, noisier, more Bohemian than the ordinary\nmasked ball. Numbers of artists had arranged to go, accompanied by a\nwhole cohort of models and pupils, who, by midnight, began to create a\ntremendous din. Raoul climbed the grand staircase at five minutes to\ntwelve, did not linger to look at the motley dresses displayed all the\nway up the marble steps, one of the richest settings in the world,\nallowed no facetious mask to draw him into a war of wits, replied to no\njests and shook off the bold familiarity of a number of couples who had\nalready become a trifle too gay. Crossing the big crush-room and\nescaping from a mad whirl of dancers in which he was caught for a\nmoment, he at last entered the room mentioned in Christine's letter. He found it crammed; for this small space was the point where all those\nwho were going to supper in the Rotunda crossed those who were\nreturning from taking a glass of champagne. The fun, here, waxed fast\nand furious. Raoul leaned against a door-post and waited. He did not wait long. A\nblack domino passed and gave a quick squeeze to the tips of his\nfingers. He understood that it was she and followed her:\n\n\"Is that you, Christine?\" he asked, between his teeth. The black domino turned round promptly and raised her finger to her\nlips, no doubt to warn him not to mention her name again. Raoul\ncontinued to follow her in silence. He was afraid of losing her, after meeting her again in such strange\ncircumstances. His grudge against her was gone. He no longer doubted\nthat she had \"nothing to reproach herself with,\" however peculiar and\ninexplicable her conduct might seem. He was ready to make any display\nof clemency, forgiveness or cowardice. He was in love. And, no doubt,\nhe would soon receive a very natural explanation of her curious absence. The black domino turned back from time to time to see if the white\ndomino was still following. As Raoul once more passed through the great crush-room, this time in\nthe wake of his guide, he could not help noticing a group crowding\nround a person whose disguise, eccentric air and gruesome appearance\nwere causing a sensation. It was a man dressed all in scarlet, with a\nhuge hat and feathers on the top of a wonderful death's head. From his\nshoulders hung an immense red-velvet cloak, which trailed along the\nfloor like a king's train; and on this cloak was embroidered, in gold\nletters, which every one read and repeated aloud, \"Don't touch me! I\nam Red Death stalking abroad!\" Then one, greatly daring, did try to touch him ... but a skeleton hand\nshot out of a crimson sleeve and violently seized the rash one's wrist;\nand he, feeling the clutch of the knucklebones, the furious grasp of\nDeath, uttered a cry of pain and terror. When Red Death released him\nat last, he ran away like a very madman, pursued by the jeers of the\nbystanders. It was at this moment that Raoul passed in front of the funereal\nmasquerader, who had just happened to turn in his direction. And he\nnearly exclaimed:\n\n\"The death's head of Perros-Guirec!\" He had recognized him! ... He wanted to dart forward, forgetting\nChristine; but the black domino, who also seemed a prey to some strange\nexcitement, caught him by the arm and dragged him from the crush-room,\nfar from the mad crowd through which Red Death was stalking... The black domino kept on turning back and, apparently, on two occasions\nsaw something that startled her, for she hurried her pace and Raoul's\nas though they were being pursued. They went up two floors. Here, the stairs and corridors were almost\ndeserted. The black domino opened the door of a private box and\nbeckoned to the white domino to follow her. Then Christine, whom he\nrecognized by the sound of her voice, closed the door behind them and\nwarned him, in a whisper, to remain at the back of the box and on no\naccount to show himself. Raoul took off his mask. Christine kept hers\non. And, when Raoul was about to ask her to remove it, he was\nsurprised to see her put her ear to the partition and listen eagerly\nfor a sound outside. Then she opened the door ajar, looked out into\nthe corridor and, in a low voice, said:\n\n\"He must have gone up higher.\" Suddenly she exclaimed:  \"He is coming\ndown again!\" She tried to close the door, but Raoul prevented her; for he had seen,\non the top step of the staircase that led to the floor above, A RED\nFOOT, followed by another ... and slowly, majestically, the whole\nscarlet dress of Red Death met his eyes. And he once more saw the\ndeath's head of Perros-Guirec. \"It's he!\" he exclaimed. \"This time, he shall not escape me! ...\"\n\nBut Christian{sic} had slammed the door at the moment when Raoul was on\nthe point of rushing out. He tried to push her aside. \"Whom do you mean by 'he'?\" she asked, in a changed voice. \"Who shall\nnot escape you?\" Raoul tried to overcome the girl's resistance by force, but she\nrepelled him with a strength which he would not have suspected in her. He understood, or thought he understood, and at once lost his temper. \"Who?\" he repeated angrily.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-19, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-21 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Why, he, the man who hides behind that\nhideous mask of death! ... The evil genius of the churchyard at Perros! ... Red Death! ... In a word, madam, your friend ...  your Angel of\nMusic! ... But I shall snatch off his mask, as I shall snatch off my\nown; and, this time, we shall look each other in the face, he and I,\nwith no veil and no lies between us; and I shall know whom you love and\nwho loves you!\" He burst into a mad laugh, while Christine gave a disconsolate moan\nbehind her velvet mask. With a tragic gesture, she flung out her two\narms, which fixed a barrier of white flesh against the door. \"In the name of our love, Raoul, you shall not pass! ...\"\n\nHe stopped. What had she said? ... In the name of their love? ...\nNever before had she confessed that she loved him. And yet she had had\nopportunities enough ...  Pooh, her only object was to gain a few\nseconds! ... She wished to give the Red Death time to escape ...  And,\nin accents of childish hatred, he said:\n\n\"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\ndone! Why did you give me every reason for hope, at Perros ...  for\nhonest hope, madam, for I am an honest man and I believed you to be an\nhonest woman, when your only intention was to deceive me! Alas, you\nhave deceived us all! You have taken a shameful advantage of the\ncandid affection of your benefactress herself, who continues to believe\nin your sincerity while you go about the Opera ball with Red Death! ... I despise you! ...\"\n\nAnd he burst into tears. She allowed him to insult her. She thought\nof but one thing, to keep him from leaving the box. \"You will beg my pardon, one day, for all those ugly words, Raoul, and\nwhen you do I shall forgive you!\" He shook his head. \"No, no, you have driven me mad! When I think that\nI 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 ...\ngood-by. Good-by, Raoul ...\"\n\nThe boy stepped forward, staggering as he went. He risked one more\nsarcasm:\n\n\"Oh, you must let me come and applaud you from time to time!\" \"I shall never sing again, Raoul! ...\"\n\n\"Really?\" he replied, still more satirically. \"So he is taking you off\nthe stage:  I congratulate you! ... But we shall meet in the Bois, one\nof these evenings!\" \"Not in the Bois nor anywhere, Raoul:  you shall not see me again ...\"\n\n\"May one ask at least to what darkness you are returning? ... For what\nhell are you leaving, mysterious lady ... or for what paradise?\" \"I came to tell you, dear, but I can't tell you now ... you would not\nbelieve me! You have lost faith in me, Raoul; it is finished!\" She spoke in such a despairing voice that the lad began to feel remorse\nfor his cruelty. \"But look here!\" he cried. \"Can't you tell me what all this means! ...  You are free, there is no one to interfere with you...  You go\nabout Paris ...  You put on a domino to come to the ball...  Why do you\nnot go home? ... What have you been doing this past fortnight? ... What\nis this tale about the Angel of Music, which you have been telling\nMamma Valerius? Some one may have taken you in, played upon your\ninnocence. I was a witness of it myself, at Perros ... but you know\nwhat to believe now! You seem to me quite sensible, Christine. You\nknow what you are doing ...  And meanwhile Mamma Valerius lies waiting\nfor you at home and appealing to your 'good genius!' ... Explain\nyourself, Christine, I beg of you! Any one might have been deceived as\nI was. What is this farce?\" Christine simply took off her mask and said:  \"Dear, it is a tragedy!\" Raoul now saw her face and could not restrain an exclamation of\nsurprise and terror. The fresh complexion of former days was gone. A\nmortal pallor covered those features, which he had known so charming\nand so gentle, and sorrow had furrowed them with pitiless lines and\ntraced dark and unspeakably sad shadows under her eyes. \"My dearest! My dearest!\" he moaned, holding out his arms. \"You\npromised to forgive me ...\"\n\n\"Perhaps! ... Some day, perhaps!\" she said, resuming her mask; and she\nwent away, forbidding him, with a gesture, to follow her. He tried to disobey her; but she turned round and repeated her gesture\nof farewell with such authority that he dared not move a step. He watched her till she was out of sight. Then he also went down among\nthe crowd, hardly knowing what he was doing, with throbbing temples and\nan aching heart; and, as he crossed the dancing-floor, he asked if\nanybody had seen Red Death. Yes, every one had seen Red Death; but\nRaoul could not find him; and, at two o'clock in the morning, he turned\ndown the passage, behind the scenes, that led to Christine Daae's\ndressing-room. His footsteps took him to that room where he had first known suffering. He tapped at the door. There was no answer. He entered, as he had\nentered when he looked everywhere for \"the man's voice.\" The room was\nempty. A gas-jet was burning, turned down low. He saw some\nwriting-paper on a little desk. He thought of writing to Christine,\nbut he heard steps in the passage. He had only time to hide in the\ninner room, which was separated from the dressing-room by a curtain. Christine entered, took off her mask with a weary movement and flung it\non the table. She sighed and let her pretty head fall into her two\nhands. What was she thinking of? Of Raoul? No, for Raoul heard her\nmurmur:  \"Poor Erik!\" At first, he thought he must be mistaken. To begin with, he was\npersuaded that, if any one was to be pitied, it was he, Raoul. It\nwould have been quite natural if she had said, \"Poor Raoul,\" after what\nhad happened between them. But, shaking her head, she repeated:  \"Poor\nErik!\" What had this Erik to do with Christine's sighs and why was she pitying\nErik when Raoul was so unhappy? Christine began to write, deliberately, calmly and so placidly that\nRaoul, who was still trembling from the effects of the tragedy that\nseparated them, was painfully impressed. \"What coolness!\" he said to himself. She wrote on, filling two, three, four sheets. Suddenly, she raised\nher head and hid the sheets in her bodice ... She seemed to be\nlistening ...  Raoul also listened ...  Whence came that strange sound,\nthat distant rhythm? ... A faint singing seemed to issue from the walls\n... yes, it was as though the walls themselves were singing! ... The\nsong became plainer ... the words were now distinguishable ... he heard\na voice, a very beautiful, very soft, very captivating voice ... but,\nfor all its softness, it remained a male voice ... The voice came\nnearer and nearer ... it came through the wall ... it approached ...\nand now the voice was IN THE ROOM, in front of Christine. Christine\nrose and addressed the voice, as though speaking to some one:\n\n\"Here I am, Erik,\" she said. \"I am ready. But you are late.\" Raoul, peeping from behind the curtain, could not believe his eyes,\nwhich showed him nothing. Christine's face lit up. A smile of\nhappiness appeared upon her bloodless lips, a smile like that of sick\npeople when they receive the first hope of recovery. The voice without a body went on singing; and certainly Raoul had never\nin his life heard anything more absolutely and heroically sweet, more\ngloriously insidious, more delicate, more powerful, in short, more\nirresistibly triumphant. He listened to it in a fever and he now began\nto understand how Christine Daae was able to appear one evening, before\nthe stupefied audience, with accents of a beauty hitherto unknown, of a\nsuperhuman exaltation, while doubtless still under the influence of the\nmysterious and invisible master. The voice was singing the Wedding-night Song from Romeo and Juliet.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-21, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-22 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Raoul saw Christine stretch out her arms to the voice as she had done,\nin Perros churchyard, to the invisible violin playing The Resurrection\nof Lazarus. And nothing could describe the passion with which the\nvoice sang:\n\n\"Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!\" The strains went through Raoul's heart. Struggling against the charm\nthat seemed to deprive him of all his will and all his energy and of\nalmost all his lucidity at the moment when he needed them most, he\nsucceeded in drawing back the curtain that hid him and he walked to\nwhere Christine stood. She herself was moving to the back of the room,\nthe whole wall of which was occupied by a great mirror that reflected\nher image, but not his, for he was just behind her and entirely covered\nby her. \"Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!\" Christine walked toward her image in the glass and the image came\ntoward her. The two Christines--the real one and the reflection--ended\nby touching; and Raoul put out his arms to clasp the two in one\nembrace. But, by a sort of dazzling miracle that sent him staggering,\nRaoul was suddenly flung back, while an icy blast swept over his face;\nhe saw, not two, but four, eight, twenty Christines spinning round him,\nlaughing at him and fleeing so swiftly that he could not touch one of\nthem. At last, everything stood still again; and he saw himself in the\nglass. But Christine had disappeared. He rushed up to the glass. He struck at the walls. Nobody! And\nmeanwhile the room still echoed with a distant passionate singing:\n\n\"Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!\" Which way, which way had Christine gone? ... Which way would she\nreturn? ...\n\nWould she return? Alas, had she not declared to him that everything\nwas finished? And was the voice not repeating:\n\n\"Fate links thee to me for ever and a day!\" To me? To whom? Then, worn out, beaten, empty-brained, he sat down on the chair which\nChristine had just left. Like her, he let his head fall into his\nhands. When he raised it, the tears were streaming down his young\ncheeks, real, heavy tears like those which jealous children shed, tears\nthat wept for a sorrow which was in no way fanciful, but which is\ncommon to all the lovers on earth and which he expressed aloud:\n\n\"Who is this Erik?\" he said.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-22, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-22", "answer": "M. Firmin Richard, M. Armand Moncharmin, Box Five, Opera Ghost, Christine Daa\u00e9, Margarita, Mme. Giry, Faust performance, letter from Opera Ghost, curse upon Faust, Carlotta, croaks like a toad, chandelier crash, Richard's concierge, Raoul, Mme. Valerius, Angel of Music, Perros, Resurrection of Lazarus, father's violin, Bois, Longchamp racecourse, masked ball, white domino, black domino, Red Death, Perros-Guirec, private box, dressing room, Erik, glass mirror, spinning Christines, ring on Christine's finger, Mamma Valerius, Raoul and Christine argument, forbidden marriage, victimizing Christine, mysterious man, tragic evening, disappearance of Christine, two weeks absence, Raoul's letter, Christine's instructions, love, jealousy, fear, supernatural, illusion, authority, forgiveness, secrecy, curse, death, shattered chandelier, wounded audience, identity of Erik"}]