In the Torture Chamber

The important thing was not to let him know; and I dreaded nothing so
much as the impulsiveness of the Vicomte de Chagny, who wanted to rush
through the walls to Christine Daae, whose moans we continued to hear
at intervals.

"The requiem mass is not at all gay," Erik's voice resumed, "whereas
the wedding mass--you can take my word for it--is magnificent! You
must take a resolution and know your own mind! I can't go on living
like this, like a mole in a burrow! Don Juan Triumphant is finished;
and now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a wife like
everybody else and to take her out on Sundays. I have invented a mask
that makes me look like anybody. People will not even turn round in
the streets. You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all
by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. You are crying! You
are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you
shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself. If you loved me I
should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that
you pleased."

Soon the moans that accompanied this sort of love's litany increased
and increased. I have never heard anything more despairing; and M. de
Chagny and I recognized that this terrible lamentation came from Erik
himself. Christine seemed to be standing dumb with horror, without the
strength to cry out, while the monster was on his knees before her.