`What, still? You would do better to help me find Erik...for, after all, a ghost who bleeds can always be found.'
The count's valet said:
`That is so, sir; there is blood on the balcony.'
The other man-servant brought a lamp, by the light of which they examined the balcony carefully. The marks of blood followed the rail till they reached a gutter-spout; then they went up the gutter-spout.
`My dear fellow,' said Count Philippe, `you have fired at a cat.'
`The misfortune is,' said Raoul, with a grin, `that it's quite possible. With Erik, you never know. Is it Erik? Is it the cat? Is it the ghost? No, with Erik, you can't tell!'
Raoul went on making this strange sort of remarks which corresponded so intimately and logically with the preoccupation of his brain and which, at the same time, tended to persuade many people that his mind was unhinged. The count himself was seized with this idea; and, later, the examining magistrate, on receiving the report of the commissary of police, came to the same conclusion.
`Who is Erik?' asked the count, pressing his brother's hand.
`He is my rival. And, if he's not dead, it's a pity.'
He dismissed the servants with a wave of the hand and the two Chagnys were left alone. But the men were not out of earshot before the count's valet heard Raoul say, distinctly and emphatically:
`I shall carry off Christine Daaé to-night.'
This phrase was afterward repeated to M. Faure, the examining-magistrate. But no one ever knew exactly what passed between the two brothers at this interview. The servants declared that this was not their first quarrel. Their voices penetrated the wall; and it was always an actress called Christine Daaé that was in question.
At breakfast - the early morning breakfast, which the count took in his study - Philippe sent for his brother. Raoul arrived silent and gloomy. The scene was a very short one. Philippe handed his brother a copy of the Epoque and said:
`Read that!'
The viscount read:
`The latest news in the Faubourg is that there is a promise of marriage between Mlle. Christine Daaé, the opera-singer, and M. le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. If the gossips are to be credited, Count Philippe has sworn that, for the first time on record, the Chagnys shall not keep their promise. But, as love is all- powerful, at the Opera as - and even more than - elsewhere, we wonder how Count Philippe intends to prevent the viscount, his brother, from leading the new Margarita to the altar. The two brothers are said to adore each other; but the count is curiously mistaken if he imagines that brotherly love will triumph over love pure and simple.'
`You see, Raoul,' said the count, `you are making us ridiculous! That little girl has turned your head with her ghost-stories.'
The viscount had evidently repeated Christine's narrative to his brother, during the night. All that he now said was: