The End of the Ghost's Love Story

And the figure of the masked man seemed all the more formidable in this
old-fashioned, neat and trim little frame. It bent down over the
Persian and said, in his ear: "Are you better, daroga? ... You are looking at my furniture? ... It
is all that I have left of my poor unhappy mother."

Christine Daae did not say a word: she moved about noiselessly, like a
sister of charity, who had taken a vow of silence. She brought a cup
of cordial, or of hot tea, he did not remember which. The man in the
mask took it from her hands and gave it to the Persian. M. de Chagny
was still sleeping.

Erik poured a drop of rum into the daroga's cup and, pointing to the
viscount, said: "He came to himself long before we knew if you were still alive,
daroga. He is quite well. He is asleep. We must not wake him."

Erik left the room for a moment, and the Persian raised himself on his
elbow, looked around him and saw Christine Daae sitting by the
fireside. He spoke to her, called her, but he was still very weak and
fell back on his pillow. Christine came to him, laid her hand on his
forehead and went away again. And the Persian remembered that, as she
went, she did not give a glance at M. de Chagny, who, it is true, was
sleeping peacefully; and she sat down again in her chair by the
chimney-corner, silent as a sister of charity who had taken a vow of
silence.