you great booby! Do you believe me now? When I tell you that my nuptial mass is written … wait till you hear the ‘Kyrie’. …”
He beat time with his heels on the planks of the boat and sang:
“ Kyrie! … Kyrie! … Kyrie eleison! … Wait till you hear, wait till you hear that mass.”
“Look here,” I said. “I shall believe you if I see Christine Daaé come out of the house on the lake and go back to it of her own accord.”
“And you won’t meddle any more in my affairs?”
“No.”
“Very well, you shall see that tonight. Come to the masked ball. Christine and I will go and have a look round. Then you can hide in the lumber-room and you shall see Christine, who will have gone to her dressing-room, delighted to come back by the Communists’ road. … And, now, be off, for I must go and do some shopping!”