“When a man,” continued Raoul, “adopts such romantic methods to entice a young girl’s affections⁠ ⁠…”

“The man must be either a villain, or the girl a fool: is that it?”

“Christine!”

“Raoul, why do you condemn a man whom you have never seen, whom no one knows and about whom you yourself know nothing?”

“Yes, Christine.⁠ ⁠… Yes.⁠ ⁠… I at least know the name that you thought to keep from me forever.⁠ ⁠… The name of your Angel of Music, mademoiselle, is Erik!”

Christine at once betrayed herself. She turned as white as a sheet and stammered:

“Who told you?”

“You yourself!”

“How do you mean?”