the Cellars of the Opera THE PERSIAN'S NARRATIVE It was the first time that I entered the house on the lake.

I had often begged the "trap-door lover," as we used to call Erik in my country, to open its mysterious doors to me.

He always refused.

I made very many attempts, but in vain, to obtain admittance.

Watch him as I might, after I first learned that he had taken up his permanent abode at the Opera, the darkness was always too thick to enable me to see how he worked the door in the wall on the lake.