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The Story Through Its Notes, Letters, and Documents Box Five From Christine ‘Monsieur: ‘I have not forgotten the little boy who went into the sea to rescue my scarf. I feel that I must write to you to-day, when I am going to Perros, in the fulfillment of a sacred duty. To-morrow is the anniversary of the death of my poor father, whom you knew and who was very fond of you. He is buried there, with his violin, in the graveyard of the little church, at the bottom of the slope where we used to play as children, beside the road where, when we were a little bigger, we said good-by for the last time.’ Prosecutor’s report ‘Q. “Did Mlle. Daee not see you come down from your room by the curious road which you selected?” ‘R. “No, monsieur, no, although, when walking behind her, I took no pains to deaden the sound of my footsteps. In fact, I was anxious that she should turn round and see me. I realized that I had no excuse for following her and that this way of spying on her was unworthy of me. But she seemed not to hear me and acted exactly as though I were not there. She quietly left the quay and then suddenly walked quickly up the road. The church-clock had struck a quarter to twelve and I thought that this must have made her hurry, for she began almost to run and continued hastening until she came to the church.” ‘Q. “Was the gate open?” ‘R. “Yes, monsieur, and this surprised me, but did not seem to surprise Mlle. Daae.” ‘Q. “Was there no one in the churchyard?” ‘R. “I did not see any one; and, if there had been, I must have seen him. The moon was shining on the snow and made the night quite light.” ‘Q. “Was it possible for any one to hide behind the tombstones?” ‘R. “No, monsieur. They were quite small, poor tombstones, partly hidden under the snow, with their crosses just above the level of the ground. The only shadows were those of the crosses and ourselves. The church stood out quite brightly. I never saw so clear a night. It was very fine and very cold and one could see anything.” ‘Q. “Are you at all superstitious?” ‘R. No, monsieur, I am a practicing Catholic.” ‘Q. “In what condition of mind were you?” ‘R. “Very healthy and peaceful, I assure you. Mlle. Daae’s curious action in going out at that hour had worried me at first; but, as soon as I saw her go to the churchyard, I thought that she meant to fulfil some pious duty to her father’s grave and I considered this so natural that I recovered all my calmness. I was only surprised that she had not heard me walking behind her, for my footsteps were quite audible on the hard snow. But she must have been taken up with her intentions and I resolved not to disturb her. She knelt down by her father’s grave, made the sign of the cross and began to pray. At that moment, it struck midnight. At the last stroke, I saw Mlle. Daae lift her eyes to the sky and stretch out her arms as though in ectasy. I was wondering what the reason could be, when I myself raised my head and everything within me seemed drawn toward the invisible, which was playing the most perfect music! Christine and I knew that music; we had heard it as children. But it had never been executed with such divine art, even by M. Daae. I remembered all that Christine had told me of the Angel of Music. The air was The Resurrection of Lazarus, which old M. Daae used to play to us in his hours of melancholy and of faith. If Christine’s Angel had existed, he could not have played better, that night, on the late musician’s violin. When the music stopped, I seemed to hear a noise from the skulls in the heap of bones; it was as though they were chuckling and I could not help shuddering.” ‘Q. “Did it not occur to you that the musician might be hiding behind that very heap of bones?” ‘R. “It was the one thought that did occur to me, monsieur, so much so that I omitted to follow M. Daae, when she stood up and walked slowly to the gate. She was so much absorbed just then that I am not surprised that she did not see me.” ‘Q. “Then what happened that you were found in the morning lying half-dead on the steps of the high alter?” ‘R. “First a skull rolled to my feet…then another…then another…It was as if I were the mark of that ghastly game of bowls. And I had an idea that false step must have destroyed the balance of the structure behind which our musician was concealed. This surmise seemed to be confirmed when I saw a shadow suddenly glide along the sacristy wall. I ran up. The shadow had already pushed open the door and entered the church. But I was quicker than the shadow and caught hold of a corner of its cloak. At that moment, we were just in front of the high alter; and the moonbeams fell straight upon us through the stained-glass windows of the apse. As I did not let go of the cloak, the shadow turned around; and I saw a terrible death’s head, which darted a look at me with a pair of scorching eyes. I felt as if I were face to face with Satan; and, in the presence of this unearthly apparition, my heart gave way, my courage failed me…and I remember nothing more until I recovered consciousness at the Setting Sun.”’ |
Notes, Letters, Documents |