The ghouls

by Haining, Peter, comp

  "Remember it and smile on him, entreat him, tell him that your bonds hurt you."

  But Christine Daae said, "Hush! I hear something in the wall on the lake. It is he. Go away. Go away!"

  Heavy steps dragged slowly behind the wall, then came a tremendous sigh, followed by a cry of pain from Christine, and we heard Erik's voice:

  "Why did you cry out, Christine?"

  "Because I am in pain, Erik."

  "I thought I had frightened you."

  "Erik, unloose my bonds. Am I not your prisoner?"

  "You will try to kill yourself again."

  "You have given me till eleven o'clock tomorrow evening, Erik."

  The footsteps dragged along the floor once more.

  "After all, since we are to die together and since I am just as eager to die as you are, yes, I have had enough of this life, you know . . . Wait, don't move, I will release you . . . you have only one word to say, 'No!' And it will be finished. There, turn round—you're free now. Oh, Christine, look at your poor dear wrists. Tell me, have I hurt them? That alone deserves death."

  Then the voice asked angrily, "What have you done with my bag? So it was to take my bag that you asked me to release you!"

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

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

  "I want to look at this room which I have never seen and which you have always kept hidden from me."

  "Give me the key, will you, you inquisitive little thing!"

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

  At that moment, the vicomte could not help himself any longer and cried out with rage.

  "What's that?" said the monster. "Did you hear that, Christine?"

  "No, no!" replied the poor girl. "I heard nothing!"

  "I thought I heard a cry."

  "A cry! Are you going mad, Erik? Whom do you expect to cry out in this house? I cried out, because you hurt me!"

  "I don't like the way you said that. You're trembling. You're lying!

  There was a cry. There is someone in the torture-chamber! Ah, I understand now!"

  "There is no one there, Erik!"

  "I understand."

  "No one!"

  "The man you want to marry, perhaps!"

  "I don't want to marry anybody, you know I don't."

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

  Then we heard Christine's cry of anguish.

  "No! I'm frightened! I tell you, I'm afraid of the dark! I don't care about that room now!"

  And that which I feared above all things was set in motion. The room was suddenly flooded with light. The Vicomte de Chagny was so much taken by surprise that he staggered where he stood. And the angry voice roared:

  "I told you there was someone! Do you see the window now? The lighted window up there? The man behind the wall can't see it! But you shall go up the folding steps. That is what they are there for! You have often asked me to tell you and now you know! They are there to see the torture-chamber! Go and look through the little window, dear!"

  I do not know if the viscount heard the girl's swooning voice, for he was too much absorbed by the astounding spectacle that he now saw before him. As for me, I had seen that sight too often, through the litde window at Mazenderan.

  We heard the steps being dragged against the wall.

  "Up with you! No? Then I will go up myself, dear!"

  "No, let me go!"

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

  "There is no one there, dear!"

  "No one? Are you sure there is no one?"

  "Why, of course not. . . No one!"

  "Well, that's all right! What's the matter, Christine? You're not going to faint, are you, considering there is no one there? Here come

  down. That's it! Pull yourself together. How do you like the view from the little window?"

  "Oh, very much!"

  "There, that's right! You're better now, aren't you? And what a funny house it is, isn't it?"

  "It's very handsome! Did you make it? You're a great artist, Erik."

  "Yes, a great artist, in my own line."

  "But tell me, Erik, why did you call that room the torture-chamber?"

  "Oh, it's very simple. First of all, what did you see?"

  "I saw a forest."

  "And what is in a forest?"

  "Trees."

  "And you saw branches! And what is in the branches?" asked the terrible voice. "There's a gibbet! That is why I call my forest the torture-chamber!"

  Christine was distraught. "Put the light out in the little window!" she entreated him, "Erik, do put out the light!"

  For she saw that this light, which appeared so suddenly and of which the monster had spoken in so threatening a voice, must mean something terrible. One thing must have pacified her for a moment, and that was seeing the two of us behind the wall in the midst of that dazzling light, alive and well.

  But then she cried out again, "What does this mean? The wall is quite hot! The wall is burning!"

  And the monster replied, "It is because of the forest next door."

  'Well, what has that got to do with it?"

  "Why, didn't you see that it was an African forest?"

  And the monster laughed so loudly and hideously that we could no longer distinguish Christine's cries. The Vicomte de Chagny shouted and banged against the wall like a madman, I could not restrain him. But we heard nothing except the monster's laughter. Then there was the sound of a body falling on the floor and being dragged along, a door slammed and then another—nothing more save the scorching silence of the torture-chamber!

  There was only one possible outlet—that opening into the room where Erik and Christine Daae were. But, though this outlet looked like just an ordinary door on their side, it was absolutely invisible to us. When I was quite sure that there was no hope for us from Christine Daae's side, I resolved to set to work without delay.

  But I had first to calm Monsieur de Chagny, who was already walk-

  ing about like a madman, uttering incoherent cries. The snatches of conversation which he had caught between Christine and the monster had driven him mad with despair; add to that the shock of the magic forest and the scorching heat which was beginning to make the perspiration stream down his temples and you will have no difficulty in understanding his state of mind. He shouted Christine's name, brandished his pistol, and rushed against the glass walls in his endeavours to break through them. The torture was beginning to work its spell upon a brain unprepared to resist it.

  I did my best to induce the poor viscount to listen to reason. I made him touch the mirrors and the iron tree and the branches and explained to him logically all the luminous imagery which surrounded us.

  "We are in a room, a little room; that is what you must keep saying to yourself. And we shall leave the room as soon as we have found the door."

  Forgetting the forest, I tackled a glass panel and began to finger it in every direction, hunting for the spot which I must press in order to turn the door. The spring might lay hidden under a mere speck on the glass no larger than a pea. I hunted and hunted, feeling as high as my hands could reach.

  While groping over the successive panels with the greatest care, I endeavoured not to lose a minute, for I was feeling more and more overcome with the heat and we were literally roasting in that blazing forest.

  I had been working like this for half an hour and
had finished three panels when, as ill-luck would have it, I heard a muttered exclamation from the viscount and turned round.

  "I am stifling," he said. "All these mirrors are sending out an infernal heat! Do you think you will find that spring soon, because if you are much longer about it we shall be roasted alive!"

  I returned to my panel, after giving him a word of encouragement, but I had made the mistake of taking a few steps while speaking, and in the maze of reflections I was no longer able to make sure of the panel! I had to begin all over again at random: feeling, fumbling, groping.

  Now the fever laid hold of me in turn, for I found nothing, absolutely nothing. In the next room, all was silence. We were utterly lost in the forest, without an outlet, a compass, a guide or anything. Oh, I knew what awaited us if I did not find the spring! But, look as I might, I found nothing but branches, beautiful branches that stood straight

  up before me or spread gracefully over my head, but they gave no shade.

  At last, I saw Monsieur de Chagny raise himself up and point to a spot on the horizon. He had discovered an oasis!

  Yes, far in the distance was an oasis, an oasis with limpid water! No, it was the mirage; I recognized it at once—the worst of all Erik's tricks! No one had ever been able to fight against it. I did my utmost to keep my head and not hope for water, because I knew that if a man hoped for water there was only one thing for him to do—hang himself on the iron tree!

  "Don't look!" I cried to Monsieur de Chagny, "It's the mirage! Don't believe in water! It's another trick of the mirrors!"

  Then he flatly told me that I was mad to imagine that all the water flowing over there, among those coundess, splendid trees, was not real water! The forest was real! And it was no use trying to take him in. And he dragged himself along repeating over and over again, "Water! Water!"

  And his mouth was open, as though he were drinking. And my mouth was open too as though I were drinking . . .

  Lastly—and this was the most pitiless torture of all—we heard the rain and it was not raining! Ah, you should have seen us putting out our tongues and dragging ourselves towards the rippling river bank! When we reached the mirror, Monsieur de Chagny licked it and I also licked the glass.

  It was burning hot!

  Then we rolled on the floor crying with despair. Monsieur de Chagny put the one pistol that was still loaded to his temple, and I stared at the Punjab lasso at the foot of the iron tree.

  Then, as I stared at it, I saw a thing which made me start so violently that I seized my friend by the arm and dragged myself on my knees towards what I had seen.

  I had discovered, near the Punjab lasso, in a groove in the floor, a black-headed nail which I recognized. At last I had found the spring!

  I felt the nail and, as we watched in amazement, it yielded to my pressure.

  The mechanism released a trapdoor in the floor. Cool air rushed up through the black hole below. We stooped down with our faces in the cool shade and we drank in the coolness.

  I thrust my arm into the darkness and came upon a stone, then another—a dark staircase leading into the cellar. The viscount wanted to

  fling himself down the hole but, fearing a new trick of the monster's, I stopped him, turned on my dark lantern and went down first.

  The staircase was a winding one. We soon reached the bottom. Our eyes were beginning to be accustomed to the dark, to distinguish shapes around us. Then we saw circular shapes. We were in Erik's cellar. It was here that he must keep his wine and perhaps his drinking water. We went down on our knees and started scratching at the seal with a small knife which I carried. Monsieur de Chagny put his two hands together underneath it and, with a last effort, I burst the seal.

  "What's this?" cried the viscount. "This isn't water!"

  The viscount put his two full hands close to my lantern. I stooped to look and, at the same moment, flung away my lantern with such violence that it broke and went out, leaving us in utter darkness.

  What I had seen in his hands was gunpowder! The discovery flung us into a state of alarm that made us forget all our past and present sufferings. We now knew what the monster meant when he said to Christine Daae, "If your answer is no, everybody will be dead or buried!"

  Yes, buried under the ruins of the Paris Opera House!

  The monster had given her until eleven o'clock in the evening. He had chosen his time well. There would be many people up there in the theatre, and we would all be blown up in the middle of the performance if Christine Daae said no!

  And what else could she say but no? She did not know that her decision would decide the fate of hundreds of people.

  We dragged ourselves through the darkness, feeling our way to the stone steps. At last, I found the staircase, but suddenly I stopped on the first step, for a terrible thought had come into my mind—what was the time?

  Eleven o'clock tomorrow evening might be now, might be this very moment! Who could tell us the time? We seemed to have been imprisoned in that hell for days and days, for years, since the beginning of the world. Perhaps we should be blown up then and there! Ah, a sound! A crack!

  "Did you hear that? There, in the corner—good heavens! Like a sound of machinery. Again! Oh, for a light! Perhaps it's the machinery which will blow everything up!"

  Monsieur de Chagny and I began to yell like madmen. Fear spurred us on. We rushed up the treads of the staircase, stumbling as we went. We found the trapdoor still open, but it was now as dark in the room of mirrors as in the cellar we had just left. We dragged ourselves along

  the floor of the torture-chamber, the floor between us and the gunpowder room. What was the time? We argued, we tried to calculate the time which we had spent there, but we were incapable of reasoning. If only we could see the face of a watch! Mine had stopped, but Monsieur de Chagny's was still going. He told me that he had wound it up before dressing for the Opera. We had not a match upon us, so he broke the glass of his watch and felt the two hands. Judging by the space between the hands, he thought it might be just eleven o'clock.

  Suddenly I thought I heard footsteps in the next room. Someone tapped against the wall, and Christine's voice cried out, "Raoul! Raoul!"

  We all began to talk at once, on either side of the wall. Christine sobbed, and told us that the monster had been terrible and had done nothing but rave, waiting for her to give him the "yes" which she refused. She had promised him that "yes", if he would take her to the torture-chamber, but he had been obstinate and at last, after many hours of that hell, he had gone out, leaving her alone to reflect for the last time.

  "Hours and hours? What is the time now? What is the time, Christine?"

  "It is eleven o'clock! Eleven o'clock, in all but five minutes! He told me so before he went. He is quite mad. He said, 'Five minutes! I leave you alone!' And he gave me the little bronze key that opens the two ebony caskets on the mantelpiece. Then he said, 'In one of the caskets you will find a scorpion, in the other, a grasshopper. They will say yes or no for you. If you turn the scorpion I shall understand, when I come back, that you have said yes. The grasshopper will mean no.' And he laughed like a demon. I did nothing but beg and entreat him to give me the key of the torture-chamber, promising to be his wife if he granted me this request. But he told me that there was no further need for that key and that he was going to throw it into the lake! And he laughed again and left me."

  There was a pause.

  "Christine," I cried, "where are you?"

  "By the scorpion."

  "Don't touch it!"

  I had the idea that the monster had perhaps deceived the girl once more. Perhaps it was the scorpion that would blow everything up. After all, why wasn't he there? The five minutes were long past and he was not back. Perhaps he had taken shelter and was waiting for the

  explosion! Why had he not returned? He could not really expect Christine ever to consent to becoming his voluntary prey!

  "Don't touch the scorpion!" I repeated.

  "Here he comes!" c
ried Christine. "I hear him! Here he is!"

  We heard his steps approaching the Louis-Philippe room. He came up to Christine, but did not speak. Then I raised my voice, "Erik! It is I! Do you know me?"

  With extraordinary calmness he at once replied, "So you are not dead in there? Well then, keep quiet!"

  I tried to speak, but he said coldly, "Not a word, Daroga, or I shall blow everything up." And he added, "The honour rests with Mademoiselle. Mademoiselle has not touched the scorpion nor the grasshopper. If you turn the grasshopper, Mademoiselle, we shall all be blown up. There is enough gunpowder under our feet to blow up half of Paris. If you turn the scorpion all that powder will be flooded by the lake. Now, to celebrate our wedding, you shall make a very handsome present to a few hundred Parisians who are at this moment applauding a poor masterpiece of Meyerbeer's. You shall make them a present of their lives. For with your own fair hands you shall turn the scorpion and merrily, merrily, we shall be married!"

  A pause, and then:

  "If, in two minutes, Mademoiselle, you have not turned the scorpion, I shall turn the grasshopper, and the grasshopper, I assure you, will hop high!"

  There was a terrible silence again. The Vicomte de Chagny, realizing that there was nothing left to do but pray, went down on his knees and prayed.

  At last, we heard Erik's voice.

  "The two minutes are gone. Goodbye, Mademoiselle! Hop, grasshopper!"

  "Erik!" cried Christine, "do you swear to me, monster, do you swear to me that the scorpion is the one to turn?"

  "Yes, to hop at our wedding."

  "Ah, you see! You said, to hop!"

  "At our wedding, ingenuous child! The scorpion opens the ball. But that will do! You won't have the scorpion? Then I turn the grasshopper!"

  "Erik!"

  "Enough!"

  I was crying out in concert with Christine. Monsieur de Chagny was still on his kness, praying.

  "Erik! I have turned the scorpion!"

  Oh, the second which we waited to find ourselves blown to fragments, amid the roar of the explosion!