“I shall die of shame!”

“No, dear, live!” said Christine’s grave and changed voice. “And⁠ ⁠… goodbye. Goodbye, Raoul⁠ ⁠…”

The boy stepped forward, staggering as he went. He risked one more sarcasm:

“Oh, you must let me come and applaud you from time to time!”

“I shall never sing again, Raoul!⁠ ⁠…”

“Really?” he replied, still more satirically. “So he is taking you off the stage: I congratulate you!⁠ ⁠… But we shall meet in the Bois, one of these evenings!”

“Not in the Bois nor anywhere, Raoul: you shall not see me again⁠ ⁠…”

“May one ask at least to what darkness you are returning?⁠ ⁠… For what hell are you leaving, mysterious lady⁠ ⁠… or for what paradise?”