And the little waves passed between their legs, climbing up their legs, irresistibly, and Raoul and the Persian could no longer restrain their cries of horror, dismay and pain. Nor could they continue to hold their hands at the level of their eyes: their hands went down to their legs to push back the waves, which were full of little legs and nails and claws and teeth.
Yes, Raoul and the Persian were ready to faint, like Pampin the fireman. But the head of fire turned round in answer to their cries, and spoke to them:
“Don’t move! Don’t move! … Whatever you do, don’t come after me! … I am the rat-catcher! … Let me pass, with my rats! …”
And the head of fire disappeared, vanished in the darkness, while the passage in front of it lit up, as the result of the change which the rat-catcher had made in his dark lantern.
Before, so as not to scare the rats in front of him, he had turned his dark lantern on himself, lighting up his own head; now, to hasten their flight, he lit the dark space in front of him.
And he jumped along, dragging with him the waves of scratching rats, all the thousand sounds.
Raoul and the Persian breathed again, though still trembling.
“I ought to have remembered that Erik talked to me about the rat-catcher,” said the Persian. “But he never told me that he looked like that … and it’s funny that I should never have met him before. … Of course, Erik never comes to this part!”
“Are we very far from the lake, sir?” asked Raoul.
“When shall we get there? … Take me to the lake, oh, take me to the lake! … When we are at the lake, we will call out! … Christine will hear us! … And he will hear us, too! … And, as you know him, we shall talk to him!”