Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1912-05-24
CHAPTER XIV.
Tho Scorpion or the Grasshopper:
whIeh7

everybody will be dead and buried!"
Yes, buried under the ruins OF the
Paris Grand Opera!
The monster had given her unit
eleven o'clock in the evening. HI
had chosen his time we'll. There
would be many people, many mem
bers of the human race" up there, II
the resplendent theater. What tinel
retinue could be expected for his fu
neral? He would go down to thu
tomb escorted by the whitest shoul
ders in the world. decked with thu
richest jewels.
Eleven O'Clock tomorrow evening!
We were all to be blown up in the
middle of the performance Il
Christine Daae said no!
Eleven o'clock tomorrow evening!
And what else could Christine say
but no? Would she not prefer to es
pouse death itself rather than that liv
ing corpse? She did not know that
on her acceptance or refusal depend
ed the awful fate Of many members
of the human race!
|
And we dragged ourselves through
the darkness, feeling our way to the
stone steps, for the light in the trap
door overhead that led to the room
of mirrors was now extinguished; and
We repeated to ourselves:
Eleven O'Clock tomorrow evening"
At last, found the staircase. But
suddenly l drew myself up on the
first step, for a terrible thought had
come to my mind:
What is the timer"
All, what was the time!
For, after all, eleven o'clock tomorrow
evening might be now, might be this
very moment! Who could tell us
the time? We seemed to have been
imprisoned in that hell for days and
days for years since
the beginning of the world. Perhaps
we should be blown up then and
there! All, sound! A crack!
did you hear that? There,
In the corner good heavens!
Like a sound of machinery!
Again! Oh, for a
light! Perhaps it's the ma
chinery that is to blow everything up!
l tell you. a cracking sound:
are you deaf?"
NJ. de Chagny and began to yell
like madmen. Fear spurred us on.
We rushed up the treads OF the stair
case, stumbling as we went. anything
to escape the dark, to return to the
mortal light Of the room of mirrors!
We found the trap-door still open.
but 1t was now as dark in the room
of mirrors as in the cellar which we
had left. We dragged ourselves along
the floor of the torture-chamber, the
floor that separated us from the pow
der-magazine. What was the time!
We shouted. we called: NJ. de Chagny
to Christine, l to Erik. l reminded
him that l had saved his life. But
no answer, save that Of our despair.
of our madness: what was the time?
We argued. we tried to calculate the
time we had spent there, but We were
incapable of reasoning. II only We
could see the face of watch! =.
Mine had stopped. but NJ. de Chagny's
was still going. He told me
that he had wound 1t up before dress
ing for the opera. We had
not a match upon US. And
yet we must know. NJ. de
Chagny broke the glass Of his watch
and felt the two hands. He
questioned the hands of the watch
with his tinger-tips, going by the po'
sition of the ring Of the watch. .
Judging by the space between the
hands, he thought 1t might be Just
eleven o'clock!
But perhaps it was not the eleven
o'clock OF which we stood in dread.
Perhaps we had still twelve hours be-
fore us!
Suddenly, exclaimed: "Hush!"
seemed to hear footsteps in the
next room. Some one tapped against
the wall. Christine Daaes voice said:
"Raoul! Raoul!"
We were now all talking at once,
on either side of the wall. Christine
sobbed; she was not sure that she
would find M. de Chagny alive. The
monster had been terrible, it seemed.
had done nothing but rave, waiting
for her to give him the yes" which
she refused. And yet she had prom.
Used him that yes" II he would take
her to the torture-chamber. But he
had obstinately declined, and had ut.
tered hideous threats against all the
members of the human race! At last,
after hours and hours of that hell, he
had that moment gone out, leaving
her alone to reflect for the last time.
Hours and hours? What Is the
time now? What is the time. Chris.
tine?"
ut is eleven o'clock. Eleven o'clock,
all but five minutes!"
but which eleven o'clock"
"The eleven o'clock that is to de-
eide life or death! He told
me so just before he went. i.
He is terrible. He is quite
mad; he tore OF his mask and his
yellow eyes shot flames! He
did nothing but laugh! >. He
said, II give you Ave minutes to spare
your bushes! Here he said, taking
. key from the little bag OF life and