Eleven o’clock tomorrow evening!

We were all to be blown up in the middle of the performance⁠ ⁠… if Christine Daaé said no!

Eleven o’clock tomorrow evening!⁠ ⁠…

And what else could Christine say but no? Would she not prefer to espouse death itself rather than that living corpse? She did not know that on her acceptance or refusal depended the awful fate of many members of the human race!

Eleven o’clock tomorrow evening!

And we dragged ourselves through the darkness, feeling our way to the stone steps, for the light in the trapdoor overhead that led to the room of mirrors was now extinguished; and we repeated to ourselves:

“Eleven o’clock tomorrow evening!”