Chapter VII Faust and What Followed
On the Saturday morning, on reaching their office, the joint managersfound a letter from O. G. worded in these terms:
MY DEAR MANAGERS:
So it is to be war between us?
If you still care for peace, here is my ultimatum. It consists of thefour following conditions:
1. You must give me back my private box; and I wish it to be at myfree disposal from henceforward.
2. The part of Margarita shall be sung this evening by Christine Daae.Never mind about Carlotta; she will be ill.
3. I absolutely insist upon the good and loyal services of Mme. Giry,my box-keeper, whom you will reinstate in her functions forthwith.
4. Let me know by a letter handed to Mme. Giry, who will see that itreaches me, that you accept, as your predecessors did, the conditionsin my memorandum-book relating to my monthly allowance. I will informyou later how you are to pay it to me.
If you refuse, you will give FAUST to-night in a house with a curseupon it.
Take my advice and be warned in time. O. G.
"Look here, I'm getting sick of him, sick of him!" shouted Richard,bringing his fists down on his office-table.
Just then, Mercier, the acting-manager, entered.
"Lachenel would like to see one of you gentlemen," he said. "He saysthat his business is urgent and he seems quite upset."
"Who's Lachenel?" asked Richard.
"He's your stud-groom."
"What do you mean? My stud-groom?"
"Yes, sir," explained Mercier, "there are several grooms at the Operaand M. Lachenel is at the head of them."
"And what does this groom do?"
"He has the chief management of the stable."
"What stable?"
"Why, yours, sir, the stable of the Opera."
"Is there a stable at the Opera? Upon my word, I didn't know. Whereis it?"
"In the cellars, on the Rotunda side. It's a very importantdepartment; we have twelve horses."
"Twelve horses! And what for, in Heaven's name?"
"Why, we want trained horses for the processions in the Juive, TheProfeta and so on; horses 'used to the boards.' It is the grooms'business to teach them. M. Lachenel is very clever at it. He used tomanage Franconi's stables."
"Very well ... but what does he want?"
"I don't know; I never saw him in such a state."
"He can come in."
M. Lachenel came in, carrying a riding-whip, with which he struck hisright boot in an irritable manner.
"Good morning, M. Lachenel," said Richard, somewhat impressed. "Towhat do we owe the honor of your visit?"
"Mr. Manager, I have come to ask you to get rid of the whole stable."
"What, you want to get rid of our horses?"
"I'm not talking of the horses, but of the stablemen."
"How many stablemen have you, M. Lachenel?"
"Six stablemen! That's at least two too many."
"These are 'places,'" Mercier interposed, "created and forced upon usby the under-secretary for fine arts. They are filled by protegees ofthe government and, if I may venture to ..."
"I don't care a hang for the government!" roared Richard. "We don'tneed more than four stablemen for twelve horses."
"Eleven," said the head riding-master, correcting him.
"Twelve," repeated Richard.
"Eleven," repeated Lachenel.
"Oh, the acting-manager told me that you had twelve horses!"
"I did have twelve, but I have only eleven since Cesar was stolen."
And M. Lachenel gave himself a great smack on the boot with his whip.
"Has Cesar been stolen?" cried the acting-manager. "Cesar, the whitehorse in the Profeta?"
"There are not two Cesars," said the stud-groom dryly. "I was tenyears at Franconi's and I have seen plenty of horses in my time. Well,there are not two Cesars. And he's been stolen."
"How?"
"I don't know. Nobody knows. That's why I have come to ask you tosack the whole stable."
"What do your stablemen say?"
"All sorts of nonsense. Some of them accuse the supers. Otherspretend that it's the acting-manager's doorkeeper ..."
"My doorkeeper? I'll answer for him as I would for myself!" protestedMercier.
"But, after all, M. Lachenel," cried Richard, "you must have some idea."
"Yes, I have," M. Lachenel declared. "I have an idea and I'll tell youwhat it is. There's no doubt about it in my mind." He walked up to thetwo managers and whispered. "It's the ghost who did the trick!"
Richard gave a jump.
"What, you too! You too!"
"How do you mean, I too? Isn't it natural, after what I saw?"
"What did you see?"
"I saw, as clearly as I now see you, a black shadow riding a whitehorse that was as like Cesar as two peas!"
"And did you run after them?"
"I did and I shouted, but they were too fast for me and disappeared inthe darkness of the underground gallery."
M. Richard rose. "That will do, M. Lachenel. You can go ... We willlodge a complaint against THE GHOST."
"And sack my stable?"
"Oh, of course! Good morning."
M. Lachenel bowed and withdrew. Richard foamed at the mouth.
"Settle that idiot's account at once, please."
"He is a friend of the government representative's!" Mercier venturedto say.
"And he takes his vermouth at Tortoni's with Lagrene, Scholl andPertuiset, the lion-hunter," added Moncharmin. "We shall have thewhole press against us! He'll tell the story of the ghost; andeverybody will be laughing at our expense! We may as well be dead asridiculous!"
"All right, say no more about it."
At that moment the door opened. It must have been deserted by itsusual Cerberus, for Mme. Giry entered without ceremony, holding aletter in her hand, and said hurriedly:
"I beg your pardon, excuse me, gentlemen, but I had a letter thismorning from the Opera ghost. He told me to come to you, that you hadsomething to ..."
She did not complete the sentence. She saw Firmin Richard's face; andit was a terrible sight. He seemed ready to burst. He said nothing,he could not speak. But suddenly he acted. First, his left arm seizedupon the quaint person of Mme. Giry and made her describe so unexpecteda semicircle that she uttered a despairing cry. Next, his right footimprinted its sole on the black taffeta of a skirt which certainly hadnever before undergone a similar outrage in a similar place. The thinghappened so quickly that Mme. Giry, when in the passage, was stillquite bewildered and seemed not to understand. But, suddenly, sheunderstood; and the Opera rang with her indignant yells, her violentprotests and threats.
About the same time, Carlotta, who had a small house of her own in theRue du Faubourg St. Honore, rang for her maid, who brought her lettersto her bed. Among them was an anonymous missive, written in red ink,in a hesitating, clumsy hand, which ran:
If you appear to-night, you must be prepared for a great misfortune atthe moment when you open your mouth to sing ... a misfortune worse thandeath.
The letter took away Carlotta's appetite for breakfast. She pushedback her chocolate, sat up in bed and thought hard. It was not thefirst letter of the kind which she had received, but she never had onecouched in such threatening terms.
She thought herself, at that time, the victim of a thousand jealousattempts and went about saying that she had a secret enemy who hadsworn to ruin her. She pretended that a wicked plot was being hatchedagainst her, a cabal which would come to a head one of those days; butshe added that she was not the woman to be intimidated.
The truth is that, if there was a cabal, it was led by Carlotta herselfagainst poor Christine, who had no suspicion of it. Carlotta had neverforgiven Christine for the triumph which she had achieved when takingher place at a moment's notice. When Carlotta heard of the astoundingreception bestowed upon her understudy, she was at once cur
ed of anincipient attack of bronchitis and a bad fit of sulking against themanagement and lost the slightest inclination to shirk her duties.From that time, she worked with all her might to "smother" her rival,enlisting the services of influential friends to persuade the managersnot to give Christine an opportunity for a fresh triumph. Certainnewspapers which had begun to extol the talent of Christine nowinterested themselves only in the fame of Carlotta. Lastly, in thetheater itself, the celebrated, but heartless and soulless diva madethe most scandalous remarks about Christine and tried to cause herendless minor unpleasantnesses.
When Carlotta had finished thinking over the threat contained in thestrange letter, she got up.
"We shall see," she said, adding a few oaths in her native Spanish witha very determined air.
The first thing she saw, when looking out of her window, was a hearse.She was very superstitious; and the hearse and the letter convinced herthat she was running the most serious dangers that evening. Shecollected all her supporters, told them that she was threatened at thatevening's performance with a plot organized by Christine Daae anddeclared that they must play a trick upon that chit by filling thehouse with her, Carlotta's, admirers. She had no lack of them, hadshe? She relied upon them to hold themselves prepared for anyeventuality and to silence the adversaries, if, as she feared, theycreated a disturbance.
M. Richard's private secretary called to ask after the diva's healthand returned with the assurance that she was perfectly well and that,"were she dying," she would sing the part of Margarita that evening.The secretary urged her, in his chief's name, to commit no imprudence,to stay at home all day and to be careful of drafts; and Carlotta couldnot help, after he had gone, comparing this unusual and unexpectedadvice with the threats contained in the letter.
It was five o'clock when the post brought a second anonymous letter inthe same hand as the first. It was short and said simply:
You have a bad cold. If you are wise, you will see that it is madnessto try to sing to-night.
Carlotta sneered, shrugged her handsome shoulders and sang two or threenotes to reassure herself.
Her friends were faithful to their promise. They were all at the Operathat night, but looked round in vain for the fierce conspirators whomthey were instructed to suppress. The only unusual thing was thepresence of M. Richard and M. Moncharmin in Box Five. Carlotta'sfriends thought that, perhaps, the managers had wind, on their side, ofthe proposed disturbance and that they had determined to be in thehouse, so as to stop it then and there; but this was unjustifiablesupposition, as the reader knows. M. Richard and M. Moncharmin werethinking of nothing but their ghost.
"Vain! In vain do I call, through my vigil weary, On creation and itsLord! Never reply will break the silence dreary! No sign! No singleword!"
The famous baritone, Carolus Fonta, had hardly finished Doctor Faust'sfirst appeal to the powers of darkness, when M. Firmin Richard, who wassitting in the ghost's own chair, the front chair on the right, leanedover to his partner and asked him chaffingly:
"Well, has the ghost whispered a word in your ear yet?"
"Wait, don't be in such a hurry," replied M. Armand Moncharmin, in thesame gay tone. "The performance has only begun and you know that theghost does not usually come until the middle of the first act."
The first act passed without incident, which did not surpriseCarlotta's friends, because Margarita does not sing in this act. Asfor the managers, they looked at each other, when the curtain fell.
"That's one!" said Moncharmin.
"Yes, the ghost is late," said Firmin Richard.
"It's not a bad house," said Moncharmin, "for 'a house with a curse onit.'"
M. Richard smiled and pointed to a fat, rather vulgar woman, dressed inblack, sitting in a stall in the middle of the auditorium with a man ina broadcloth frock-coat on either side of her.
"Who on earth are 'those?'" asked Moncharmin.
"'Those,' my dear fellow, are my concierge, her husband and herbrother."
"Did you give them their tickets?"
"I did ... My concierge had never been to the Opera--this is, the firsttime--and, as she is now going to come every night, I wanted her tohave a good seat, before spending her time showing other people totheirs."
Moncharmin asked what he meant and Richard answered that he hadpersuaded his concierge, in whom he had the greatest confidence, tocome and take Mme. Giry's place. Yes, he would like to see if, withthat woman instead of the old lunatic, Box Five would continue toastonish the natives?
"By the way," said Moncharmin, "you know that Mother Giry is going tolodge a complaint against you."
"With whom? The ghost?"
The ghost! Moncharmin had almost forgotten him. However, thatmysterious person did nothing to bring himself to the memory of themanagers; and they were just saying so to each other for the secondtime, when the door of the box suddenly opened to admit the startledstage-manager.
"What's the matter?" they both asked, amazed at seeing him there atsuch a time.
"It seems there's a plot got up by Christine Daae's friends againstCarlotta. Carlotta's furious."
"What on earth ... ?" said Richard, knitting his brows.
But the curtain rose on the kermess scene and Richard made a sign tothe stage-manager to go away. When the two were alone again,Moncharmin leaned over to Richard:
"Then Daae has friends?" he asked.
"Yes, she has."
"Whom?"
Richard glanced across at a box on the grand tier containing no one buttwo men.
"The Comte de Chagny?"
"Yes, he spoke to me in her favor with such warmth that, if I had notknown him to be Sorelli's friend ..."
"Really? Really?" said Moncharmin. "And who is that pale young manbeside him?"
"That's his brother, the viscount."
"He ought to be in his bed. He looks ill."
The stage rang with gay song:
"Red or white liquor, Coarse or fine! What can it matter, So we have wine?"
Students, citizens, soldiers, girls and matrons whirled light-heartedlybefore the inn with the figure of Bacchus for a sign. Siebel made herentrance. Christine Daae looked charming in her boy's clothes; andCarlotta's partisans expected to hear her greeted with an ovation whichwould have enlightened them as to the intentions of her friends. Butnothing happened.
On the other hand, when Margarita crossed the stage and sang the onlytwo lines allotted her in this second act:
"No, my lord, not a lady am I, nor yet a beauty, And do not need an arm to help me on my way,"
Carlotta was received with enthusiastic applause. It was so unexpectedand so uncalled for that those who knew nothing about the rumors lookedat one another and asked what was happening. And this act also wasfinished without incident.
Then everybody said: "Of course, it will be during the next act."
Some, who seemed to be better informed than the rest, declared that the"row" would begin with the ballad of the KING OF THULE and rushed tothe subscribers' entrance to warn Carlotta. The managers left the boxduring the entr'acte to find out more about the cabal of which thestage-manager had spoken; but they soon returned to their seats,shrugging their shoulders and treating the whole affair as silly.
The first thing they saw, on entering the box, was a box of Englishsweets on the little shelf of the ledge. Who had put it there? Theyasked the box-keepers, but none of them knew. Then they went back tothe shelf and, next to the box of sweets, found an opera glass. Theylooked at each other. They had no inclination to laugh. All that Mme.Giry had told them returned to their memory ... and then ... and then... they seemed to feel a curious sort of draft around them ... Theysat down in silence.
The scene represented Margarita's garden:
"Gentle flow'rs in the dew, Be message from me ..."
As she sang these first two lines, with her bunch of roses and lilac
sin her hand, Christine, raising her head, saw the Vicomte de Chagny inhis box; and, from that moment, her voice seemed less sure, lesscrystal-clear than usual. Something seemed to deaden and dull hersinging...
"What a queer girl she is!" said one of Carlotta's friends in thestalls, almost aloud. "The other day she was divine; and to-nightshe's simply bleating. She has no experience, no training."
"Gentle flow'rs, lie ye there And tell her from me ..."
The viscount put his head under his hands and wept. The count, behindhim, viciously gnawed his mustache, shrugged his shoulders and frowned.For him, usually so cold and correct, to betray his inner feelings likethat, by outward signs, the count must be very angry. He was. He hadseen his brother return from a rapid and mysterious journey in analarming state of health. The explanation that followed wasunsatisfactory and the count asked Christine Daae for an appointment.She had the audacity to reply that she could not see either him or hisbrother...
"Would she but deign to hear me And with one smile to cheer me ..."
"The little baggage!" growled the count.
And he wondered what she wanted. What she was hoping for... She was avirtuous girl, she was said to have no friend, no protector of any sort... That angel from the North must be very artful!
Raoul, behind the curtain of his hands that veiled his boyish tears,thought only of the letter which he received on his return to Paris,where Christine, fleeing from Perros like a thief in the night, hadarrived before him:
MY DEAR LITTLE PLAYFELLOW:
You must have the courage not to see me again, not to speak of meagain. If you love me just a little, do this for me, for me who willnever forget you, my dear Raoul. My life depends upon it. Your lifedepends upon it. YOUR LITTLE CHRISTINE.
Thunders of applause. Carlotta made her entrance.
"I wish I could but know who was he That addressed me, If he was noble, or, at least, what his name is ..."
When Margarita had finished singing the ballad of the KING OF THULE,she was loudly cheered and again when she came to the end of the jewelsong:
"Ah, the joy of past compare These jewels bright to wear! ..."
Thenceforth, certain of herself, certain of her friends in the house,certain of her voice and her success, fearing nothing, Carlotta flungherself into her part without restraint of modesty ... She was nolonger Margarita, she was Carmen. She was applauded all the more; andher debut with Faust seemed about to bring her a new success, whensuddenly ... a terrible thing happened.
Faust had knelt on one knee:
"Let me gaze on the form below me, While from yonder ether blue Look how the star of eve, bright and tender, lingers o'er me, To love thy beauty too!"
And Margarita replied:
"Oh, how strange! Like a spell does the evening bind me! And a deep languid charm I feel without alarm With its melody enwind me And all my heart subdue."
At that moment, at that identical moment, the terrible thinghappened... Carlotta croaked like a toad:
"Co-ack!"
There was consternation on Carlotta's face and consternation on thefaces of all the audience. The two managers in their box could notsuppress an exclamation of horror. Every one felt that the thing wasnot natural, that there was witchcraft behind it. That toad smelt ofbrimstone. Poor, wretched, despairing, crushed Carlotta!
The uproar in the house was indescribable. If the thing had happenedto any one but Carlotta, she would have been hooted. But everybodyknew how perfect an instrument her voice was; and there was no displayof anger, but only of horror and dismay, the sort of dismay which menwould have felt if they had witnessed the catastrophe that broke thearms of the Venus de Milo... And even then they would have seen ...and understood ...
But here that toad was incomprehensible! So much so that, after someseconds spent in asking herself if she had really heard that note, thatsound, that infernal noise issue from her throat, she tried to persuadeherself that it was not so, that she was the victim of an illusion, anillusion of the ear, and not of an act of treachery on the part of hervoice....
Meanwhile, in Box Five, Moncharmin and Richard had turned very pale.This extraordinary and inexplicable incident filled them with a dreadwhich was the more mysterious inasmuch as for some little while, theyhad fallen within the direct influence of the ghost. They had felt hisbreath. Moncharmin's hair stood on end. Richard wiped theperspiration from his forehead. Yes, the ghost was there, around them,behind them, beside them; they felt his presence without seeing him,they heard his breath, close, close, close to them! ... They were surethat there were three people in the box ... They trembled ... Theythought of running away ... They dared not ... They dared not make amovement or exchange a word that would have told the ghost that theyknew that he was there! ... What was going to happen?
This happened.
"Co-ack!" Their joint exclamation of horror was heard all over thehouse. THEY FELT THAT THEY WERE SMARTING UNDER THE GHOST'S ATTACKS.Leaning over the ledge of their box, they stared at Carlotta as thoughthey did not recognize her. That infernal girl must have given thesignal for some catastrophe. Ah, they were waiting for thecatastrophe! The ghost had told them it would come! The house had acurse upon it! The two managers gasped and panted under the weight ofthe catastrophe. Richard's stifled voice was heard calling to Carlotta:
"Well, go on!"
No, Carlotta did not go on ... Bravely, heroically, she started afreshon the fatal line at the end of which the toad had appeared.
An awful silence succeeded the uproar. Carlotta's voice alone oncemore filled the resounding house:
"I feel without alarm ..."
The audience also felt, but not without alarm. ..
"I feel without alarm ... I feel without alarm--co-ack! With its melody enwind me--co-ack! And all my heart sub--co-ack!"
The toad also had started afresh!
The house broke into a wild tumult. The two managers collapsed intheir chairs and dared not even turn round; they had not the strength;the ghost was chuckling behind their backs! And, at last, theydistinctly heard his voice in their right ears, the impossible voice,the mouthless voice, saying:
"SHE IS SINGING TO-NIGHT TO BRING THE CHANDELIER DOWN!"
With one accord, they raised their eyes to the ceiling and uttered aterrible cry. The chandelier, the immense mass of the chandelier wasslipping down, coming toward them, at the call of that fiendish voice.Released from its hook, it plunged from the ceiling and came smashinginto the middle of the stalls, amid a thousand shouts of terror. Awild rush for the doors followed.
The papers of the day state that there were numbers wounded and onekilled. The chandelier had crashed down upon the head of the wretchedwoman who had come to the Opera for the first time in her life, the onewhom M. Richard had appointed to succeed Mme. Giry, the ghost'sbox-keeper, in her functions! She died on the spot and, the nextmorning, a newspaper appeared with this heading:
TWO HUNDRED KILOS ON THE HEAD OF A CONCIERGE
That was her sole epitaph!
Fantôme de l'Opéra. English Page 8