The performance was interrupted amid the greatest disorder.
Where had Christine gone?
What witchcraft had snatched her, away before the eyes of thousands of enthusiastic onlookers and from the arms of Carolus Fonta himself?
It was as though the angels had really carried her up "to rest." Raoul, still standing up in the amphitheater, had uttered a cry.

Count Philippe had sprung to his feet in his box.

People looked at the stage, at the count, at Raoul, and wondered if this curious event was connected in any way with the paragraph in that morning's paper.

But Raoul hurriedly left his seat, the count disappeared from his box and, while the curtain was lowered, the subscribers rushed to the door that led behind the scenes.

The rest of the audience waited amid an indescribable hubbub.