“Christine!” cried M. de Chagny. “Christine! The water is up to our knees!”
But Christine did not reply. … We heard nothing but the water rising.
No one, no one in the next room, no one to turn the tap, no one to turn the scorpion!
We were all alone, in the dark, with the dark water that seized us and clasped us and froze us!
“Erik! Erik!”
“Christine! Christine!”
By this time, we had lost our foothold and were spinning round in the water, carried away by an irresistible whirl, for the water turned with us and dashed us against the dark mirror, which thrust us back again; and our throats, raised above the whirlpool, roared aloud.
Were we to die here, drowned in the torture-chamber? I had never seen that. Erik, at the time of the