Christine shook her head.
“No, no! There is nothing to be done with Erik … except to run away!”
“Then why, when you were able to run away, did you go back to him?”
“Because I had to. And you will understand that when I tell you how I left him.”
“Oh, I hate him!” cried Raoul. “And you, Christine, tell me, do you hate him too?”
“No,” said Christine simply.
“No, of course not. … Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves,” said Raoul bitterly. “The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it. … Picture it: a man who lives in a palace underground!” And he gave a leer.
“Then you want me to go back there?” said the young girl cruelly. “Take care, Raoul; I have told you: I should never return!”
There was an appalling silence between the three of them: the two who spoke and the shadow that listened, behind them.
“Before answering that,” said Raoul, at last, speaking very slowly, “I should like to know with what feeling he inspires you, since you do not hate him.”
“With horror!” she said. “That is the terrible thing about it. He fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think