woman, when your only intention was to deceive me! Alas, you have deceived us all! You have taken a shameful advantage of the candid affection of your benefactress herself, who continues to believe in your sincerity while you go about the Opera ball with Red Death! … I despise you! …”
And he burst into tears. She allowed him to insult her. She thought of but one thing, to keep him from leaving the box.
“You will beg my pardon, one day, for all those ugly words, Raoul, and when you do I shall forgive you!”
He shook his head. “No, no, you have driven me mad! When I think that I 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 … goodbye. Goodbye, Raoul …”
The boy stepped forward, staggering as he went. He risked one more sarcasm:
“Oh, you must let me come and applaud you from time to time!”
“I shall never sing again, Raoul! …”
“Really?” he replied, still more satirically. “So he is taking you off the stage: I congratulate you! … But we shall meet in the Bois, one of these evenings!”
“Not in the Bois nor anywhere, Raoul: you shall not see me again …”
“May one ask at least to what darkness you are returning? … For what hell are you leaving, mysterious lady … or for what paradise?”