We heard her straining, trying to free herself from the bonds that held her.
“I know where the key is,” she said, in a voice that seemed exhausted by the effort she had made. “But I am fastened so tight. … Oh, the wretch!”
And she gave a sob.
“Where is the key?” I asked, signing to M. de Chagny not to speak and to leave the business to me, for we had not a moment to lose.
“In the next room, near the organ, with another little bronze key, which he also forbade me to touch. They are both in a little leather bag which he calls the bag of life and death. … Raoul! Raoul! Fly! Everything is mysterious and terrible here, and Erik will soon have gone quite mad, and you are in the torture-chamber! … Go back by the way you came. There must be a reason why the room is called by that name!”
“Christine,” said the young man, “we will go from here together or die together!”
“We must keep cool,” I whispered. “Why has he fastened you, mademoiselle? You can’t escape from his house; and he knows it!”
“I tried to commit suicide! The monster went out last night, after carrying me here fainting and half chloroformed. He was going to his banker , so he said! … When he returned he found me with my face covered with blood. … I had tried to kill myself by striking my forehead against the walls.”
“Christine!” groaned Raoul; and he began to sob.
“Then he bound me. … I am not allowed to die until eleven o’clock tomorrow evening.”