“No.”
“He attached no importance to what you said?”
“No.”
“He took you for a bit of a madman?”
“Yes.”
“So much the better!” sighed the Persian.
And they continued their road. After going up and down several staircases which Raoul had never seen before, the two men found themselves in front of a door which the Persian opened with a master-key. The Persian and Raoul were both, of course, in dress-clothes; but, whereas Raoul had a tall hat, the Persian wore the astrakhan cap which I have already mentioned. It was an infringement of the rule which insists upon the tall hat behind the scenes; but in France foreigners are allowed every license: the Englishman his traveling-cap, the Persian his cap of astrakhan.
“Sir,” said the Persian, “your tall hat will be in your way: you would do well to leave it in the dressing-room.”
“What dressing-room?” asked Raoul.
“Christine Daaé’s.”
And the Persian, letting Raoul through the door which he had just opened, showed him the actress’ room opposite.
They were at the end of the passage the whole length of which Raoul had been accustomed to traverse before knocking at Christine’s door.
“How well you know the Opera, sir!”