That Wednesday a letter also arrived for the young Vi comte de Chagny．He opened the letter，saw the name at the bottom， and smiled for the first time that day．

　　Dear Raoul

　　Of course I remember you！How could I forget you？

　　Meet me on Thursday at three o'clock in the Tuileries Gar dens．Don't be angry with me，Raoul，please．

　　Christine Daaé

　　Raoul put the letter carefully into his pocket. Angry？ How could he be angry with an angel？ On Thursday he was in the Tuileries Gardens by two o'clock．

　　At ten past three he began to feel unhappy．At half past three he wanted to die， or to kill somebody．

　　And then… she came． She ran through the gardens to him，and in a second she was in his arms．

　　'Oh，Christine！'he said，again and again．'Oh， Christine！'They walked through the gardens together and talked for a long time． They remembered their happy weeks in Brittany，four years ago．

　　'But why did you go away，Christine？' Raoul asked．'Why didn't you write to me？'

　　For a minute or two Christine said nothing．Then she said slowly，'We were so young， you and I．I was just a poor singer from Norway，and you…you were the Vicomte de Chagny．I knew I could never be your wife．'

　　'But I love you，Christine-'

　　'No，shh．Listen to me，Raoul，please．I went home to Nor way，and a year later，my father died．I was very unhappy，but I came back to France，to Paris．I worked and worked at my singing，because I wanted to be an opera singer． Not just a good singer， but the best opera singer in Paris．'

　　'And now you are，' Raoul said．He smiled．'All Paris is at your feet．'

　　Christine turned her face away and said nothing．

　　'Christine，' Raoul said quietly．'I want to ask you a ques tion．Who was the man in your dressing－room on Tuesday night？ Tell me，please!'

　　Christine stopped and stared at him． Her face went white．'What man？'she whispered．'There was no man in my dress ing－room on Tuesday night．'

　　Raoul put his hand on her arm．'I heard him，' he said．'I listened outside the door and heard a man's voice． Who was he？'

　　'Don't ask me，Raoul！There was a man's voice，yes，but there was no man in my room！ It's true！Oh，Raoul，I'm so afraid．Sometimes I want to die．'

　　'Who is he？ Tell me， Christine，please．I'm your friend，I can help you．Tell me his name！'

　　'I cannot tell you his name． It's a secret，' whispered Chris tine．'I never see him， I only hear his voice．But he is everywhere！ He sees everything，hears everything．That's why I didn't speak to you on Tuesday night．He is my music teacher， Raoul．He's a wonderful singer．I sang so well on Tuesday night because of him． I am famous because of him．He is my angel of music！And he says he loves me．How can I leave him？'

　　5．一封致拉乌尔的信

　　那个星期三也有一封信到了年轻的沙尼家族的子爵手里。他打开信，看到信末尾的署名，露出了那天的第一个微笑。

　　亲爱的拉乌尔：

　　我当然记得你！我怎么会忘了你呢？星期四下午3点到杜伊勒利花园来见我。请不要生我的气，拉乌尔。

　　克丽斯廷·达埃

　　拉乌尔小心翼翼地把这封信放进他的衣服口袋里。生气吗？他怎么会生一位天使的气呢？星期四他在2点以前就到了杜伊勒利花园。

　　3点过10分的时候他开始感到不快。或3点30分的时候他想死掉，或者杀人。

　　随后……她来了。她穿过花园奔向他，一下子扑到他怀里。

　　“哦，克丽斯廷！”他一遍又一遍地说，“哦，克丽斯廷！”他们一同漫步着穿过花园并且谈了很长时间。他们回忆起4年前在布列塔尼的快乐时光。

　　“但是为什么你离开那里了，克丽斯廷？”拉乌尔问，“你为什么不给我写信？”

　　克丽斯廷沉默了一两分钟，然后她才慢慢道来：“我和你太年轻，我只是一个从挪威来的贫穷的歌唱家，而你……你是沙尼家族的子爵。我知道我不可能成为你的妻子。”

　　“但是我爱你，克丽斯廷——”

　　“不，嘘，别作声，请听我说，拉乌尔。我回到了挪威，一年后，我父亲逝世了。我非常悲伤，但是我回到了法国，来到了巴黎。我拼命地唱啊唱啊，因为我想成为一名歌剧演唱家。不仅仅是优秀的歌唱家，而是巴黎最好的歌剧演唱家。”

　　“现在你是了，”拉乌尔说。他微笑着，“整个巴黎都拜倒在你的脚下。”

　　克丽斯廷转过脸去，沉默不语。

　　“克丽斯廷，”拉乌尔轻声说，“我想问你一个问题。星期二晚上在你化妆室的那个男人是谁？请告诉我！”

　　克丽斯廷停下来凝视着他。她的脸变白了。“什么男人？”她低语道，“星期二晚上没有男人在我的化妆室里。”

　　拉乌尔把手放在她的手臂上。“我听到他的声音了，”他说：“我在门外听，听到了一个男人的声音。他是谁？”

　　“不要问我，拉乌尔！是有一个男人的声音，是，但是我的房间里却没有男人！这是真的！哦，拉乌尔，我害怕极了。有时候我真想去死。”

　　“他是谁？请告诉我，克丽斯廷。我是你的朋友，我会帮助你。告诉我他的名字！”

　　“我不能告诉你他的名字。这是一个秘密，克丽斯廷低声道，“我从来没有见过他，我只是听到他的声音。但是他无处不在！他什么都看得到，什么都听得到。那就是我星期二晚上没有和你说话的原因。他是我的音乐老师，拉乌尔。他是一个极好的歌唱家。我星期二晚上之所以唱得那么好就是因为他。我之所以出名就是因为他。他是我的音乐天使！而他说他爱我。我怎么能离开他呢？”