The Viscount and the Persian

"I think so, M. de Chagny, and that is why I spoke to you."

"What can you do?"

"Try to take you to her ... and to him."

"If you can do me that service, sir, my life is yours! ... One word
more: the commissary of police tells me that Christine Daae has been
carried off by my brother, Count Philippe."

"Oh, M. de Chagny, I don't believe a word of it."

"It's not possible, is it?"

"I don't know if it is possible or not; but there are ways and ways of
carrying people off; and M. le Comte Philippe has never, as far as I
know, had anything to do with witchcraft."

"Your arguments are convincing, sir, and I am a fool! ... Oh, let us
make haste! I place myself entirely in your hands! ... How should I
not believe you, when you are the only one to believe me ... when you
are the only one not to smile when Erik's name is mentioned?"

And the young man impetuously seized the Persian's hands. They were
ice-cold.

"Silence!" said the Persian, stopping and listening to the distant
sounds of the theater. "We must not mention that name here. Let us
say 'he' and 'him;' then there will be less danger of attracting his
attention."

"Do you think he is near us?"

"It is quite possible, Sir, if he is not, at this moment, with his
victim, IN THE HOUSE ON THE LAKE."

"Ah, so you know that house too?"

"If he is not there, he may be here, in this wall, in this floor, in
this ceiling! ... Come!"