to be listening. … Raoul also listened. … Whence came that strange sound, that distant rhythm? … A faint singing seemed to issue from the walls … yes, it was as though the walls themselves were singing! … The song became plainer … the words were now distinguishable … he heard a voice, a very beautiful, very soft, very captivating voice … but, for all its softness, it remained a male voice. … The voice came nearer and nearer … it came through the wall … it approached … and now the voice was in the room , in front of Christine. Christine rose and addressed the voice, as though speaking to someone:
“Here I am, Erik,” she said. “I am ready. But you are late.”
Raoul, peeping from behind the curtain, could not believe his eyes, which showed him nothing.
Christine’s face lit up. A smile of happiness appeared upon her bloodless lips, a smile like that of sick people when they receive the first hope of recovery.