Is It the Ghost?
-It was the evening on which MM. Debienne and Poligny, the managers of the Opera, were giving a last gala performance to mark their retirement. Suddenly the dressing-room of La Sorelli, one of the principal dancers, was invaded by half-a-dozen young ladies of the ballet, who had come up from the stage after “dancing” Polyeucte. They rushed in amid great confusion, some giving vent to forced and unnatural laughter, others to cries of terror. Sorelli, who wished to be alone for a moment to “run through” the speech which she was to make to the resigning managers, looked around angrily at the mad and tumultuous crowd. It was little Jammes—the girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose-red cheeks and the lily-white neck and shoulders—who gave the explanation in a trembling voice:
+It was the evening on which MM. Debienne and Poligny, the managers of the Opera, were giving a last gala performance to mark their retirement. Suddenly the dressing-room of La Sorelli, one of the principal dancers, was invaded by half-a-dozen young ladies of the ballet, who had come up from the stage after “dancing” Polyeucte. They rushed in amid great confusion, some giving vent to forced and unnatural laughter, others to cries of terror. Sorelli, who wished to be alone for a moment to “run through” the speech which she was to make to the resigning managers, looked around angrily at the mad and tumultuous crowd. It was little Jammes—the girl with the tip-tilted nose, the forget-me-not eyes, the rose-red cheeks and the lily-white neck and shoulders—who gave the explanation in a trembling voice:
“It’s the ghost!” And she locked the door.
Sorelli’s dressing-room was fitted up with official, commonplace elegance. A pier-glass, a sofa, a dressing-table and a cupboard or two provided the necessary furniture. On the walls hung a few engravings, relics of the mother, who had known the glories of the old Opera in the Rue le Peletier; portraits of Vestris, Gardel, Dupont, Bigottini. But the room seemed a palace to the brats of the corps de ballet, who were lodged in common dressing-rooms where they spent their time singing, quarreling, smacking the dressers and hairdressers and buying one another glasses of cassis, beer, or even rum, until the call-boy’s bell rang.
Sorelli was very superstitious. She shuddered when she heard little Jammes speak of the ghost, called her a “silly little fool” and then, as she was the first to believe in ghosts in general, and the Opera ghost in particular, at once asked for details:
@@ -104,9 +104,9 @@Sorelli was very pale.
“I shall never be able to recite my speech,” she said.
Ma Jammes gave her opinion, while she emptied a glass of liqueur that happened to be standing on a table; the ghost must have something to do with it.
-The truth is that no one ever knew how Joseph Buquet met his death. The verdict at the inquest was “natural suicide.” In his Memoirs of a Manager, M. Moncharmin, one of the joint managers who succeeded MM. Debienne and Poligny, describes the incident as follows:
+The truth is that no one ever knew how Joseph Buquet met his death. The verdict at the inquest was “natural suicide.” In his Memoirs of a Manager, M. Moncharmin, one of the joint managers who succeeded MM. Debienne and Poligny, describes the incident as follows:
-diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml index 394ea03..6a5456a 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-10.xhtml @@ -19,7 +19,7 @@A grievous accident spoiled the little party which MM. Debienne and Poligny gave to celebrate their retirement. I was in the manager’s office, when Mercier, the acting-manager, suddenly came darting in. He seemed half mad and told me that the body of a scene-shifter had been found hanging in the third cellar under the stage, between a farmhouse and a scene from the Roi de Lahore. I shouted:
+A grievous accident spoiled the little party which MM. Debienne and Poligny gave to celebrate their retirement. I was in the manager’s office, when Mercier, the acting-manager, suddenly came darting in. He seemed half mad and told me that the body of a scene-shifter had been found hanging in the third cellar under the stage, between a farmhouse and a scene from the Roi de Lahore. I shouted:
“Come and cut him down!”
By the time I had rushed down the staircase and the Jacob’s ladder, the man was no longer hanging from his rope!
“Mamma, I have promised to explain everything to you one of these days; and I hope to do so … but you have promised me, until that day, to be silent and to ask me no more questions whatever!”
“Provided that you promised never to leave me again! But have you promised that, Christine?”
“Mamma, all this can not interest M. de Chagny.”
-“On the contrary, mademoiselle,” said the young man, in a voice which he tried to make firm and brave, but which still trembled, “anything that concerns you interests me to an extent which perhaps you will one day understand. I do not deny that my surprise equals my pleasure at finding you with your adopted mother and that, after what happened between us yesterday, after what you said and what I was able to guess, I hardly expected to see you here so soon. I should be the first to delight at your return, if you were not so bent on preserving a secrecy that may be fatal to you … and I have been your friend too long not to be alarmed, with Mme. Valérius, at a disastrous adventure which will remain dangerous so long as we have not unraveled its threads and of which you will certainly end by being the victim, Christine.”
+“On the contrary, mademoiselle,” said the young man, in a voice which he tried to make firm and brave, but which still trembled, “anything that concerns you interests me to an extent which perhaps you will one day understand. I do not deny that my surprise equals my pleasure at finding you with your adopted mother and that, after what happened between us yesterday, after what you said and what I was able to guess, I hardly expected to see you here so soon. I should be the first to delight at your return, if you were not so bent on preserving a secrecy that may be fatal to you … and I have been your friend too long not to be alarmed, with Mme. Valérius, at a disastrous adventure which will remain dangerous so long as we have not unraveled its threads and of which you will certainly end by being the victim, Christine.”
At these words, Mamma Valérius tossed about in her bed.
“What does this mean?” she cried. “Is Christine in danger?”
“Yes, madame,” said Raoul courageously, notwithstanding the signs which Christine made to him.
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-13.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-13.xhtml index 41b65df..afaf288 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-13.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-13.xhtml @@ -118,7 +118,7 @@“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.
+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:
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-14.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-14.xhtml index 71319fe..568f91e 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-14.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-14.xhtml @@ -26,7 +26,7 @@“Did you shout that to them?” asked Mercier, impatiently.
“I’ll go back again,” said Rémy, and disappeared at a run.
Thereupon the stage-manager arrived.
-“Well, M. Mercier, are you coming? What are you two doing here? You’re wanted, Mr. Acting-Manager.”
+“Well, M. Mercier, are you coming? What are you two doing here? You’re wanted, Mr. Acting-Manager.”
“I refuse to know or to do anything before the commissary arrives,” declared Mercier. “I have sent for Mifroid. We shall see when he comes!”
“And I tell you that you ought to go down to the organ at once.”
“Not before the commissary comes.”
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-16.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-16.xhtml index 54178ce..22a53f4 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-16.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-16.xhtml @@ -9,16 +9,16 @@Mme. Giry’s Astounding Revelations as to Her Personal Relations with the Opera Ghost
+Mme. Giry’s Astounding Revelations as to Her Personal Relations with the Opera Ghost
-Before following the commissary into the manager’s office I must describe certain extraordinary occurrences that took place in that office which Rémy and Mercier had vainly tried to enter and into which MM. Richard and Moncharmin had locked themselves with an object which the reader does not yet know, but which it is my duty, as an historian, to reveal without further postponement.
+Before following the commissary into the manager’s office I must describe certain extraordinary occurrences that took place in that office which Rémy and Mercier had vainly tried to enter and into which MM. Richard and Moncharmin had locked themselves with an object which the reader does not yet know, but which it is my duty, as an historian, to reveal without further postponement.
I have had occasion to say that the managers’ mood had undergone a disagreeable change for some time past and to convey the fact that this change was due not only to the fall of the chandelier on the famous night of the gala performance.
The reader must know that the ghost had calmly been paid his first twenty thousand francs. Oh, there had been wailing and gnashing of teeth, indeed! And yet the thing had happened as simply as could be.
One morning, the managers found on their table an envelope addressed to “Monsieur O. G. (private)” and accompanied by a note from O. G. himself:
--The time has come to carry out the clause in the memorandum-book. Please put twenty notes of a thousand francs each into this envelope, seal it with your own seal and hand it to Mme. Giry, who will do what is necessary.
+The time has come to carry out the clause in the memorandum-book. Please put twenty notes of a thousand francs each into this envelope, seal it with your own seal and hand it to Mme. Giry, who will do what is necessary.
The managers did not hesitate; without wasting time in asking how these confounded communications came to be delivered in an office which they were careful to keep locked, they seized this opportunity of laying hands on the mysterious blackmailer. And, after telling the whole story, under the promise of secrecy, to Gabriel and Mercier, they put the twenty thousand francs into the envelope and without asking for explanations, handed it to Mme. Giry, who had been reinstated in her functions. The box-keeper displayed no astonishment. I need hardly say that she was well watched. She went straight to the ghost’s box and placed the precious envelope on the little shelf attached to the ledge. The two managers, as well as Gabriel and Mercier, were hidden in such a way that they did not lose sight of the envelope for a second during the performance and even afterward, for, as the envelope had not moved, those who watched it did not move either; and Mme. Giry went away while the managers, Gabriel and Mercier were still there. At last, they became tired of waiting and opened the envelope, after ascertaining that the seals had not been broken.
+The managers did not hesitate; without wasting time in asking how these confounded communications came to be delivered in an office which they were careful to keep locked, they seized this opportunity of laying hands on the mysterious blackmailer. And, after telling the whole story, under the promise of secrecy, to Gabriel and Mercier, they put the twenty thousand francs into the envelope and without asking for explanations, handed it to Mme. Giry, who had been reinstated in her functions. The box-keeper displayed no astonishment. I need hardly say that she was well watched. She went straight to the ghost’s box and placed the precious envelope on the little shelf attached to the ledge. The two managers, as well as Gabriel and Mercier, were hidden in such a way that they did not lose sight of the envelope for a second during the performance and even afterward, for, as the envelope had not moved, those who watched it did not move either; and Mme. Giry went away while the managers, Gabriel and Mercier were still there. At last, they became tired of waiting and opened the envelope, after ascertaining that the seals had not been broken.
At first sight, Richard and Moncharmin thought that the notes were still there; but soon they perceived that they were not the same. The twenty real notes were gone and had been replaced by twenty notes of the “Bank of St. Farce!”2
The managers’ rage and fright were unmistakable. Moncharmin wanted to send for the commissary of police, but Richard objected. He no doubt had a plan, for he said:
“Don’t let us make ourselves ridiculous! All Paris would laugh at us. O. G. has won the first game: we will win the second.”
@@ -29,27 +29,27 @@“Well, who could have thought it?” moaned Richard. “But don’t be afraid … next time, I shall have taken my precautions.”
The next time fell on the same day that beheld the disappearance of Christine Daaé. In the morning, a note from the ghost reminded them that the money was due. It read:
-Do just as you did last time. It went very well. Put the twenty thousand in the envelope and hand it to our excellent Mme. Giry.
+Do just as you did last time. It went very well. Put the twenty thousand in the envelope and hand it to our excellent Mme. Giry.
And the note was accompanied by the usual envelope. They had only to insert the notes.
This was done about half an hour before the curtain rose on the first act of Faust. Richard showed the envelope to Moncharmin. Then he counted the twenty thousand-franc notes in front of him and put the notes into the envelope, but without closing it.
“And now,” he said, “let’s have Mother Giry in.”
The old woman was sent for. She entered with a sweeping courtesy. She still wore her black taffeta dress, the color of which was rapidly turning to rust and lilac, to say nothing of the dingy bonnet. She seemed in a good temper. She at once said:
“Good evening, gentlemen! It’s for the envelope, I suppose?”
-“Yes, Mme. Giry,” said Richard, most amiably. “For the envelope … and something else besides.”
+“Yes, Mme. Giry,” said Richard, most amiably. “For the envelope … and something else besides.”
“At your service, M. Richard, at your service. And what is the something else, please?”
-“First of all, Mme. Giry, I have a little question to put to you.”
-“By all means, M. Richard: Mme. Giry is here to answer you.”
+“First of all, Mme. Giry, I have a little question to put to you.”
+“By all means, M. Richard: Mme. Giry is here to answer you.”
“Are you still on good terms with the ghost?”
“Couldn’t be better, sir; couldn’t be better.”
-“Ah, we are delighted. … Look here, Mme. Giry,” said Richard, in the tone of making an important confidence. “We may just as well tell you, among ourselves … you’re no fool!”
+“Ah, we are delighted. … Look here, Mme. Giry,” said Richard, in the tone of making an important confidence. “We may just as well tell you, among ourselves … you’re no fool!”
“Why, sir,” exclaimed the box-keeper, stopping the pleasant nodding of the black feathers in her dingy bonnet, “I assure you no one has ever doubted that!”
“We are quite agreed and we shall soon understand one another. The story of the ghost is all humbug, isn’t it? … Well, still between ourselves, … it has lasted long enough.”
-Mme. Giry looked at the managers as though they were talking Chinese. She walked up to Richard’s table and asked, rather anxiously:
+Mme. Giry looked at the managers as though they were talking Chinese. She walked up to Richard’s table and asked, rather anxiously:
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, you understand quite well. In any case, you’ve got to understand. … And, first of all, tell us his name.”
“Whose name?”
-“The name of the man whose accomplice you are, Mme. Giry!”
+“The name of the man whose accomplice you are, Mme. Giry!”
“I am the ghost’s accomplice? I? … His accomplice in what, pray?”
“You do all he wants.”
“Oh! He’s not very troublesome, you know.”
@@ -59,20 +59,20 @@“Ten francs.”
“You poor thing! That’s not much, is it?”
“Why?”
-“I’ll tell you that presently, Mme. Giry. Just now we should like to know for what extraordinary reason you have given yourself body and soul, to this ghost … Mme. Giry’s friendship and devotion are not to be bought for five francs or ten francs.”
+“I’ll tell you that presently, Mme. Giry. Just now we should like to know for what extraordinary reason you have given yourself body and soul, to this ghost … Mme. Giry’s friendship and devotion are not to be bought for five francs or ten francs.”
“That’s true enough. … And I can tell you the reason, sir. There’s no disgrace about it … on the contrary.”
-“We’re quite sure of that, Mme. Giry!”
+“We’re quite sure of that, Mme. Giry!”
“Well, it’s like this … only the ghost doesn’t like me to talk about his business.”
“Indeed?” sneered Richard.
“But this is a matter that concerns myself alone. … Well, it was in Box Five one evening, I found a letter addressed to myself, a sort of note written in red ink. I needn’t read the letter to you, sir; I know it by heart, and I shall never forget it if I live to be a hundred!”
-And Mme. Giry, drawing herself up, recited the letter with touching eloquence:
+And Mme. Giry, drawing herself up, recited the letter with touching eloquence:
Madam:
-1825. Mlle. Ménétrier, leader of the ballet, became Marquise de Cussy.
-1832. Mlle. Marie Taglioni, a dancer, became Comtesse Gilbert des Voisins.
+1825. Mlle. Ménétrier, leader of the ballet, became Marquise de Cussy.
+1832. Mlle. Marie Taglioni, a dancer, became Comtesse Gilbert des Voisins.
1846. La Sota, a dancer, married a brother of the King of Spain.
1847. Lola Montes, a dancer, became the morganatic wife of King Louis of Bavaria and was created Countess of Landsfeld.
-1848. Mlle. Maria, a dancer, became Baronne d’Herneville.
+1848. Mlle. Maria, a dancer, became Baronne d’Herneville.
1870. Thérèsa Hessier, a dancer, married Dom Fernando, brother to the King of Portugal.
Richard and Moncharmin listened to the old woman, who, as she proceeded with the enumeration of these glorious nuptials, swelled out, took courage and, at last, in a voice bursting with pride, flung out the last sentence of the prophetic letter:
@@ -81,30 +81,30 @@Exhausted by this supreme effort, the box-keeper fell into a chair, saying:
“Gentlemen, the letter was signed, ‘Opera Ghost.’ I had heard much of the ghost, but only half believed in him. From the day when he declared that my little Meg, the flesh of my flesh, the fruit of my womb, would be empress, I believed in him altogether.”
-And really it was not necessary to make a long study of Mme. Giry’s excited features to understand what could be got out of that fine intellect with the two words “ghost” and “empress.”
+And really it was not necessary to make a long study of Mme. Giry’s excited features to understand what could be got out of that fine intellect with the two words “ghost” and “empress.”
But who pulled the strings of that extraordinary puppet? That was the question.
“You have never seen him; he speaks to you and you believe all he says?” asked Moncharmin.
“Yes. To begin with, I owe it to him that my little Meg was promoted to be the leader of a row. I said to the ghost, ‘If she is to be empress in 1885, there is no time to lose; she must become a leader at once.’ He said, ‘Look upon it as done.’ And he had only a word to say to M. Poligny and the thing was done.”
“So you say that M. Poligny saw him!”
“No, not any more than I did; but he heard him. The ghost said a word in his ear, you know, on the evening when he left Box Five, looking so dreadfully pale.”
Moncharmin heaved a sigh. “What a business!” he groaned.
-“Ah!” said Mme. Giry. “I always thought there were secrets between the ghost and M. Poligny. Anything that the ghost asked M. Poligny to do M. Poligny did. M. Poligny could refuse the ghost nothing.”
+“Ah!” said Mme. Giry. “I always thought there were secrets between the ghost and M. Poligny. Anything that the ghost asked M. Poligny to do M. Poligny did. M. Poligny could refuse the ghost nothing.”
“You hear, Richard: Poligny could refuse the ghost nothing.”
-“Yes, yes, I hear!” said Richard. “M. Poligny is a friend of the ghost; and, as Mme. Giry is a friend of M. Poligny, there we are! … But I don’t care a hang about M. Poligny,” he added roughly. “The only person whose fate really interests me is Mme. Giry. … Mme. Giry, do you know what is in this envelope?”
+“Yes, yes, I hear!” said Richard. “M. Poligny is a friend of the ghost; and, as Mme. Giry is a friend of M. Poligny, there we are! … But I don’t care a hang about M. Poligny,” he added roughly. “The only person whose fate really interests me is Mme. Giry. … Mme. Giry, do you know what is in this envelope?”
“Why, of course not,” she said.
“Well, look.”
-Mme. Giry looked into the envelope with a lackluster eye, which soon recovered its brilliancy.
+Mme. Giry looked into the envelope with a lackluster eye, which soon recovered its brilliancy.
“Thousand-franc notes!” she cried.
-“Yes, Mme. Giry, thousand-franc notes! And you knew it!”
+“Yes, Mme. Giry, thousand-franc notes! And you knew it!”
“I, sir? I? … I swear …”
-“Don’t swear, Mme. Giry! … And now I will tell you the second reason why I sent for you. Mme. Giry, I am going to have you arrested.”
+“Don’t swear, Mme. Giry! … And now I will tell you the second reason why I sent for you. Mme. Giry, I am going to have you arrested.”
The two black feathers on the dingy bonnet, which usually affected the attitude of two notes of interrogation, changed into two notes of exclamation; as for the bonnet itself, it swayed in menace on the old lady’s tempestuous chignon. Surprise, indignation, protest and dismay were furthermore displayed by little Meg’s mother in a sort of extravagant movement of offended virtue, half bound, half slide, that brought her right under the nose of M. Richard, who could not help pushing back his chair.
“Have me arrested!”
The mouth that spoke those words seemed to spit the three teeth that were left to it into Richard’s face.
M. Richard behaved like a hero. He retreated no farther. His threatening forefinger seemed already to be pointing out the keeper of Box Five to the absent magistrates.
-“I am going to have you arrested, Mme. Giry, as a thief!”
+“I am going to have you arrested, Mme. Giry, as a thief!”
“Say that again!”
-And Mme. Giry caught Mr. Manager Richard a mighty box on the ear, before Mr. Manager Moncharmin had time to intervene. But it was not the withered hand of the angry old beldame that fell on the managerial ear, but the envelope itself, the cause of all the trouble, the magic envelope that opened with the blow, scattering the banknotes, which escaped in a fantastic whirl of giant butterflies.
+And Mme. Giry caught Mr. Manager Richard a mighty box on the ear, before Mr. Manager Moncharmin had time to intervene. But it was not the withered hand of the angry old beldame that fell on the managerial ear, but the envelope itself, the cause of all the trouble, the magic envelope that opened with the blow, scattering the banknotes, which escaped in a fantastic whirl of giant butterflies.
The two managers gave a shout, and the same thought made them both go on their knees, feverishly picking up and hurriedly examining the precious scraps of paper.
“Are they still genuine, Moncharmin?”
“Are they still genuine, Richard?”
@@ -117,18 +117,18 @@“In any case,” she yelped, “you, M. Richard, ought to know better than I where the twenty thousand francs went to!”
“I?” asked Richard, astounded. “And how should I know?”
Moncharmin, looking severe and dissatisfied, at once insisted that the good lady should explain herself.
-“What does this mean, Mme. Giry?” he asked. “And why do you say that M. Richard ought to know better than you where the twenty-thousand francs went to?”
-As for Richard, who felt himself turning red under Moncharmin’s eyes, he took Mme. Giry by the wrist and shook it violently. In a voice growling and rolling like thunder, he roared:
+“What does this mean, Mme. Giry?” he asked. “And why do you say that M. Richard ought to know better than you where the twenty-thousand francs went to?”
+As for Richard, who felt himself turning red under Moncharmin’s eyes, he took Mme. Giry by the wrist and shook it violently. In a voice growling and rolling like thunder, he roared:
“Why should I know better than you where the twenty-thousand francs went to? Why? Answer me!”
“Because they went into your pocket!” gasped the old woman, looking at him as if he were the devil incarnate.
-Richard would have rushed upon Mme. Giry, if Moncharmin had not stayed his avenging hand and hastened to ask her, more gently:
+Richard would have rushed upon Mme. Giry, if Moncharmin had not stayed his avenging hand and hastened to ask her, more gently:
“How can you suspect my partner, M. Richard, of putting twenty-thousand francs in his pocket?”
“I never said that,” declared Mame Giry, “seeing that it was myself who put the twenty-thousand francs into M. Richard’s pocket.” And she added, under her voice, “There! It’s out! … And may the ghost forgive me!”
Richard began bellowing anew, but Moncharmin authoritatively ordered him to be silent.
“Allow me! Allow me! Let the woman explain herself. Let me question her.” And he added: “It is really astonishing that you should take up such a tone! … We are on the verge of clearing up the whole mystery. And you’re in a rage! … You’re wrong to behave like that. … I’m enjoying myself immensely.”
Mame Giry, like the martyr that she was, raised her head, her face beaming with faith in her own innocence.
“You tell me there were twenty-thousand francs in the envelope which I put into M. Richard’s pocket; but I tell you again that I knew nothing about it. … Nor M. Richard either, for that matter!”
-“Aha!” said Richard, suddenly assuming a swaggering air which Moncharmin did not like. “I knew nothing either! You put twenty-thousand francs in my pocket and I knew nothing either! I am very glad to hear it, Mme. Giry!”
+“Aha!” said Richard, suddenly assuming a swaggering air which Moncharmin did not like. “I knew nothing either! You put twenty-thousand francs in my pocket and I knew nothing either! I am very glad to hear it, Mme. Giry!”
“Yes,” the terrible dame agreed, “yes, it’s true. We neither of us knew anything. But you, you must have ended by finding out!”
Richard would certainly have swallowed Mame Giry alive, if Moncharmin had not been there! But Moncharmin protected her. He resumed his questions:
“What sort of envelope did you put in M. Richard’s pocket? It was not the one which we gave you, the one which you took to Box Five before our eyes; and yet that was the one which contained the twenty-thousand francs.”
@@ -151,7 +151,7 @@“Because I spent that evening watching Box Five and the sham envelope which you put there. I did not go to the ballet-foyer for a second.”
“No, sir, and I did not give you the envelope that evening, but at the next performance … on the evening when the undersecretary of state for fine arts …”
At these words, M. Richard suddenly interrupted Mame Giry:
-“Yes, that’s true, I remember now! The undersecretary went behind the scenes. He asked for me. I went down to the ballet-foyer for a moment. I was on the foyer steps. … The undersecretary and his chief clerk were in the foyer itself. … I suddenly turned around … you had passed behind me, Mme. Giry. … You seemed to push against me. … Oh, I can see you still, I can see you still!”
+“Yes, that’s true, I remember now! The undersecretary went behind the scenes. He asked for me. I went down to the ballet-foyer for a moment. I was on the foyer steps. … The undersecretary and his chief clerk were in the foyer itself. … I suddenly turned around … you had passed behind me, Mme. Giry. … You seemed to push against me. … Oh, I can see you still, I can see you still!”
“Yes, that’s it, sir, that’s it. I had just finished my little business. That pocket of yours, sir, is very handy!”
And Mame Giry once more suited the action to the word. She passed behind M. Richard and, so nimbly that Moncharmin himself was impressed by it, slipped the envelope into the pocket of one of the tails of M. Richard’s dress-coat.
“Of course!” exclaimed Richard, looking a little pale. “It’s very clever of O. G. The problem which he had to solve was this: how to do away with any dangerous intermediary between the man who gives the twenty-thousand francs and the man who receives it. And by far the best thing he could hit upon was to come and take the money from my pocket without my noticing it, as I myself did not know that it was there. It’s wonderful!”
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-18.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-18.xhtml index 0259359..adb0369 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-18.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-18.xhtml @@ -51,7 +51,7 @@Moncharmin understood what he meant, for, with a distracted gesture, he said:
“Oh, tell everything and have done with it!”
As for Mifroid, he looked at the managers and at Raoul by turns and wondered whether he had strayed into a lunatic asylum. He passed his hand through his hair.
-“A ghost,” he said, “who, on the same evening, carries off an opera-singer and steals twenty-thousand francs is a ghost who must have his hands very full! If you don’t mind, we will take the questions in order. The singer first, the twenty-thousand francs after. Come, M. de Chagny, let us try to talk seriously. You believe that Mlle. Christine Daaé has been carried off by an individual called Erik. Do you know this person? Have you seen him?”
+“A ghost,” he said, “who, on the same evening, carries off an opera-singer and steals twenty-thousand francs is a ghost who must have his hands very full! If you don’t mind, we will take the questions in order. The singer first, the twenty-thousand francs after. Come, M. de Chagny, let us try to talk seriously. You believe that Mlle. Christine Daaé has been carried off by an individual called Erik. Do you know this person? Have you seen him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In a churchyard.”
@@ -59,10 +59,10 @@“Of course! … That’s where ghosts usually hang out! … And what were you doing in that churchyard?”
“Monsieur,” said Raoul, “I can quite understand how absurd my replies must seem to you. But I beg you to believe that I am in full possession of my faculties. The safety of the person dearest to me in the world is at stake. I should like to convince you in a few words, for time is pressing and every minute is valuable. Unfortunately, if I do not tell you the strangest story that ever was from the beginning, you will not believe me. I will tell you all I know about the Opera ghost, M. Commissary. Alas, I do not know much! …”
“Never mind, go on, go on!” exclaimed Richard and Moncharmin, suddenly greatly interested.
-Unfortunately for their hopes of learning some detail that could put them on the track of their hoaxer, they were soon compelled to accept the fact that M. Raoul de Chagny had completely lost his head. All that story about Perros-Guirec, death’s heads and enchanted violins, could only have taken birth in the disordered brain of a youth mad with love. It was evident, also, that Mr. Commissary Mifroid shared their view; and the magistrate would certainly have cut short the incoherent narrative if circumstances had not taken it upon themselves to interrupt it.
+Unfortunately for their hopes of learning some detail that could put them on the track of their hoaxer, they were soon compelled to accept the fact that M. Raoul de Chagny had completely lost his head. All that story about Perros-Guirec, death’s heads and enchanted violins, could only have taken birth in the disordered brain of a youth mad with love. It was evident, also, that Mr. Commissary Mifroid shared their view; and the magistrate would certainly have cut short the incoherent narrative if circumstances had not taken it upon themselves to interrupt it.
The door opened and a man entered, curiously dressed in an enormous frock-coat and a tall hat, at once shabby and shiny, that came down to his ears. He went up to the commissary and spoke to him in a whisper. It was doubtless a detective come to deliver an important communication.
During this conversation, M. Mifroid did not take his eyes off Raoul. At last, addressing him, he said:
-“Monsieur, we have talked enough about the ghost. We will now talk about yourself a little, if you have no objection: you were to carry off Mlle. Christine Daaé tonight?”
+“Monsieur, we have talked enough about the ghost. We will now talk about yourself a little, if you have no objection: you were to carry off Mlle. Christine Daaé tonight?”
“Yes, M. le commissaire.”
“After the performance?”
“Yes, M. le commissaire.”
@@ -74,11 +74,11 @@“Yes, M. le commissaire.”
“Did you know that there were three other carriages there, in addition to yours?”
“I did not pay the least attention.”
-“They were the carriages of Mlle. Sorelli, which could not find room in the Cour de l’Administration; of Carlotta; and of your brother, M. le Comte de Chagny. …”
+“They were the carriages of Mlle. Sorelli, which could not find room in the Cour de l’Administration; of Carlotta; and of your brother, M. le Comte de Chagny. …”
“Very likely. …”
“What is certain is that, though your carriage and Sorelli’s and Carlotta’s are still there, by the Rotunda pavement, M. le Comte de Chagny’s carriage is gone.”
“This has nothing to say to …”
-“I beg your pardon. Was not M. le Comte opposed to your marriage with Mlle. Daaé?”
+“I beg your pardon. Was not M. le Comte opposed to your marriage with Mlle. Daaé?”
“That is a matter that only concerns the family.”
“You have answered my question: he was opposed to it … and that was why you were carrying Christine Daaé out of your brother’s reach. … Well, M. de Chagny, allow me to inform you that your brother has been smarter than you! It is he who has carried off Christine Daaé!”
“Oh, impossible!” moaned Raoul, pressing his hand to his heart. “Are you sure?”
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml index 95dc113..66d469a 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-2.xhtml @@ -16,8 +16,8 @@“Impossible!” said Meg Giry. “Six months ago, she used to sing like a crock! But do let us get by, my dear count,” continues the brat, with a saucy curtsey. “We are going to inquire after a poor man who was found hanging by the neck.”
Just then the acting-manager came fussing past and stopped when he heard this remark.
“What!” he exclaimed roughly. “Have you girls heard already? Well, please forget about it for tonight—and above all don’t let M. Debienne and M. Poligny hear; it would upset them too much on their last day.”
-They all went on to the foyer of the ballet, which was already full of people. The Comte de Chagny was right; no gala performance ever equalled this one. All the great composers of the day had conducted their own works in turns. Faure and Krauss had sung; and, on that evening, Christine Daaé had revealed her true self, for the first time, to the astonished and enthusiastic audience. Gounod had conducted the “Funeral March of a Marionnette;” Reyer, his beautiful overture to Siguar; Saint Saëns, the “Danse Macabre” and a “Rêverie Orientale;” Massenet, an unpublished Hungarian march; Guiraud, his “Carnaval;” Delibes, the “Valse lente” from Sylvia and the “Pizzicati” from Coppelia. Mlle. Krauss had sung the bolero in the Vespri Siciliani; and Mlle. Denise Bloch the drinking song in Lucrezia Borgia.
-But the real triumph was reserved for Christine Daaé, who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. It was the first time that the young artist sang in this work of Gounod, which had not been transferred to the Opera and which was revived at the Opéra Comique after it had been produced at the old Theatre Lyrique by Mme. Carvalho. Those who heard her say that her voice, in these passages, was seraphic; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene and the final trio in Faust, which she sang in the place of La Carlotta, who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it.
+They all went on to the foyer of the ballet, which was already full of people. The Comte de Chagny was right; no gala performance ever equalled this one. All the great composers of the day had conducted their own works in turns. Faure and Krauss had sung; and, on that evening, Christine Daaé had revealed her true self, for the first time, to the astonished and enthusiastic audience. Gounod had conducted the “Funeral March of a Marionnette;” Reyer, his beautiful overture to Siguar; Saint Saëns, the “Danse Macabre” and a “Rêverie Orientale;” Massenet, an unpublished Hungarian march; Guiraud, his “Carnaval;” Delibes, the “Valse lente” from Sylvia and the “Pizzicati” from Coppelia. Mlle. Krauss had sung the bolero in the Vespri Siciliani; and Mlle. Denise Bloch the drinking song in Lucrezia Borgia.
+But the real triumph was reserved for Christine Daaé, who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. It was the first time that the young artist sang in this work of Gounod, which had not been transferred to the Opera and which was revived at the Opéra Comique after it had been produced at the old Theatre Lyrique by Mme. Carvalho. Those who heard her say that her voice, in these passages, was seraphic; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene and the final trio in Faust, which she sang in the place of La Carlotta, who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it.
Daaé revealed a new Margarita that night, a Margarita of a splendor, a radiance hitherto unsuspected. The whole house went mad, rising to its feet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed and fainted in the arms of her fellow-singers and had to be carried to her dressing-room. A few subscribers, however, protested. Why had so great a treasure been kept from them all that time? Till then, Christine Daaé had played a good Siebel to Carlotta’s rather too splendidly material Margarita. And it had needed Carlotta’s incomprehensible and inexcusable absence from this gala night for the little Daaé, at a moment’s warning, to show all that she could do in a part of the program reserved for the Spanish diva! Well, what the subscribers wanted to know was, why had Debienne and Poligny applied to Daaé, when Carlotta was taken ill? Did they know of her hidden genius? And, if they knew of it, why had they kept it hidden? And why had she kept it hidden? Oddly enough, she was not known to have a professor of singing at that moment. She had often said she meant to practise alone for the future. The whole thing was a mystery.
The Comte de Chagny, standing up in his box, listened to all this frenzy and took part in it by loudly applauding. Philippe Georges Marie Comte de Chagny was just forty-one years of age. He was a great aristocrat and a good-looking man, above middle height and with attractive features, in spite of his hard forehead and his rather cold eyes. He was exquisitely polite to the women and a little haughty to the men, who did not always forgive him for his successes in society. He had an excellent heart and an irreproachable conscience. On the death of old Count Philibert, he became the head of one of the oldest and most distinguished families in France, whose arms dated back to the fourteenth century. The Chagnys owned a great deal of property; and, when the old count, who was a widower, died, it was no easy task for Philippe to accept the management of so large an estate. His two sisters and his brother, Raoul, would not hear of a division and waived their claim to their shares, leaving themselves entirely in Philippe’s hands, as though the right of primogeniture had never ceased to exist. When the two sisters married, on the same day, they received their portion from their brother, not as a thing rightfully belonging to them, but as a dowry for which they thanked him.
The Comtesse de Chagny, née de Moerogis de La Martyniere, had died in giving birth to Raoul, who was born twenty years after his elder brother. At the time of the old count’s death, Raoul was twelve years of age. Philippe busied himself actively with the youngster’s education. He was admirably assisted in this work first by his sisters and afterward by an old aunt, the widow of a naval officer, who lived at Brest and gave young Raoul a taste for the sea. The lad entered the Borda training-ship, finished his course with honors and quietly made his trip round the world. Thanks to powerful influence, he had just been appointed a member of the official expedition on board the Requin, which was to be sent to the Arctic Circle in search of the survivors of the D’Artoi’s expedition, of whom nothing had been heard for three years. Meanwhile, he was enjoying a long furlough which would not be over for six months; and already the dowagers of the Faubourg Saint-Germain were pitying the handsome and apparently delicate stripling for the hard work in store for him.
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-20.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-20.xhtml index ea95843..08ae40d 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-20.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-20.xhtml @@ -34,7 +34,7 @@“I say,” he said to the stage-manager, “I can’t open this door: is it always so difficult?”
The stage-manager forced it open with his shoulder. He saw that, at the same time, he was pushing a human body and he could not keep back an exclamation, for he recognized the body at once:
“Mauclair! Poor devil! He is dead!”
-But Mr. Commissary Mifroid, whom nothing surprised, was stooping over that big body.
+But Mr. Commissary Mifroid, whom nothing surprised, was stooping over that big body.
“No,” he said, “he is dead-drunk, which is not quite the same thing.”
“It’s the first time, if so,” said the stage-manager.
“Then someone has given him a narcotic. That is quite possible.”
@@ -45,17 +45,17 @@Then he turned to the little room, addressing the people whom Raoul and the Persian were unable to see from where they lay.
“What do you say to all this, gentlemen? You are the only ones who have not given your views. And yet you must have an opinion of some sort.”
Thereupon, Raoul and the Persian saw the startled faces of the joint managers appear above the landing—and they heard Moncharmin’s excited voice:
-“There are things happening here, Mr. Commissary, which we are unable to explain.”
+“There are things happening here, Mr. Commissary, which we are unable to explain.”
And the two faces disappeared.
“Thank you for the information, gentlemen,” said Mifroid, with a jeer.
But the stage-manager, holding his chin in the hollow of his right hand, which is the attitude of profound thought, said:
“It is not the first time that Mauclair has fallen asleep in the theater. I remember finding him, one evening, snoring in his little recess, with his snuffbox beside him.”
“Is that long ago?” asked M. Mifroid, carefully wiping his eyeglasses.
-“No, not so very long ago. … Wait a bit! … It was the night … of course, yes … It was the night when Carlotta—you know, Mr. Commissary—gave her famous ‘co-ack’!”
+“No, not so very long ago. … Wait a bit! … It was the night … of course, yes … It was the night when Carlotta—you know, Mr. Commissary—gave her famous ‘co-ack’!”
“Really? The night when Carlotta gave her famous ‘co-ack’?”
And M. Mifroid, replacing his gleaming glasses on his nose, fixed the stage-manager with a contemplative stare.
“So Mauclair takes snuff, does he?” he asked carelessly.
-“Yes, Mr. Commissary. … Look, there is his snuffbox on that little shelf. … Oh, he’s a great snuff-taker!”
+“Yes, Mr. Commissary. … Look, there is his snuffbox on that little shelf. … Oh, he’s a great snuff-taker!”
“So am I,” said Mifroid and put the snuffbox in his pocket.
Raoul and the Persian, themselves unobserved, watched the removal of the three bodies by a number of scene-shifters, who were followed by the commissary and all the people with him. Their steps were heard for a few minutes on the stage above. When they were alone the Persian made a sign to Raoul to stand up. Raoul did so; but, as he did not lift his hand in front of his eyes, ready to fire, the Persian told him to resume that attitude and to continue it, whatever happened.
“But it tires the hand unnecessarily,” whispered Raoul. “If I do fire, I shan’t be sure of my aim.”
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-23.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-23.xhtml index b8ce1a6..7a0a87b 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-23.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-23.xhtml @@ -73,7 +73,7 @@“Put out the light in the little window! … Erik, do put out the light in the little window!”
For she saw that this light, which appeared so suddenly and of which the monster had spoken in so threatening a voice, must mean something terrible. One thing must have pacified her for a moment; and that was seeing the two of us, behind the wall, in the midst of that resplendent light, alive and well. But she would certainly have felt much easier if the light had been put out.
Meantime, the other had already begun to play the ventriloquist. He said:
-“Here, I raise my mask a little. … Oh, only a little! … You see my lips, such lips as I have? They’re not moving! … My mouth is closed—such mouth as I have—and yet you hear my voice. … Where will you have it? In your left ear? In your right ear? In the table? In those little ebony boxes on the mantelpiece? … Listen, dear, it’s in the little box on the right of the mantelpiece: what does it say? ‘Shall I turn the scorpion?’ … And now, crack! What does it say in the little box on the left? ‘Shall I turn the grasshopper?’ … And now, crack! Here it is in the little leather bag. … What does it say? ‘I am the little bag of life and death!’ … And now, crack! It is in Carlotta’s throat, in Carlotta’s golden throat, in Carlotta’s crystal throat, as I live! What does it say? It says, ‘It’s I, Mr. Toad, it’s I singing! I feel without alarm—co-ack—with its melody enwind me—co-ack!’ … And now, crack! It is on a chair in the ghost’s box and it says, ‘Madame Carlotta is singing tonight to bring the chandelier down!’ … And now, crack! Aha! Where is Erik’s voice now? Listen, Christine, darling! Listen! It is behind the door of the torture-chamber! Listen! It’s myself in the torture-chamber! And what do I say? I say, ‘Woe to them that have a nose, a real nose, and come to look round the torture-chamber! Aha, aha, aha!’ ”
+“Here, I raise my mask a little. … Oh, only a little! … You see my lips, such lips as I have? They’re not moving! … My mouth is closed—such mouth as I have—and yet you hear my voice. … Where will you have it? In your left ear? In your right ear? In the table? In those little ebony boxes on the mantelpiece? … Listen, dear, it’s in the little box on the right of the mantelpiece: what does it say? ‘Shall I turn the scorpion?’ … And now, crack! What does it say in the little box on the left? ‘Shall I turn the grasshopper?’ … And now, crack! Here it is in the little leather bag. … What does it say? ‘I am the little bag of life and death!’ … And now, crack! It is in Carlotta’s throat, in Carlotta’s golden throat, in Carlotta’s crystal throat, as I live! What does it say? It says, ‘It’s I, Mr. Toad, it’s I singing! I feel without alarm—co-ack—with its melody enwind me—co-ack!’ … And now, crack! It is on a chair in the ghost’s box and it says, ‘Madame Carlotta is singing tonight to bring the chandelier down!’ … And now, crack! Aha! Where is Erik’s voice now? Listen, Christine, darling! Listen! It is behind the door of the torture-chamber! Listen! It’s myself in the torture-chamber! And what do I say? I say, ‘Woe to them that have a nose, a real nose, and come to look round the torture-chamber! Aha, aha, aha!’ ”
Oh, the ventriloquist’s terrible voice! It was everywhere, everywhere. It passed through the little invisible window, through the walls. It ran around us, between us. Erik was there, speaking to us! We made a movement as though to fling ourselves upon him. But, already, swifter, more fleeting than the voice of the echo, Erik’s voice had leaped back behind the wall!
Soon we heard nothing more at all, for this is what happened:
“Erik! Erik!” said Christine’s voice. “You tire me with your voice. Don’t go on, Erik! Isn’t it very hot here?”
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml index b64b6c8..8892fd6 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-3.xhtml @@ -12,7 +12,7 @@The Mysterious Reason
During this time, the farewell ceremony was taking place. I have already said that this magnificent function was being given on the occasion of the retirement of M. Debienne and M. Poligny, who had determined to “die game,” as we say nowadays. They had been assisted in the realization of their ideal, though melancholy, program by all that counted in the social and artistic world of Paris. All these people met, after the performance, in the foyer of the ballet, where Sorelli waited for the arrival of the retiring managers with a glass of champagne in her hand and a little prepared speech at the tip of her tongue. Behind her, the members of the corps de ballet, young and old, discussed the events of the day in whispers or exchanged discreet signals with their friends, a noisy crowd of whom surrounded the supper-tables arranged along the slanting floor.
-A few of the dancers had already changed into ordinary dress; but most of them wore their skirts of gossamer gauze; and all had thought it the right thing to put on a special face for the occasion: all, that is, except little Jammes, whose fifteen summers—happy age!—seemed already to have forgotten the ghost and the death of Joseph Buquet. She never ceased to laugh and chatter, to hop about and play practical jokes, until MM. Debienne and Poligny appeared on the steps of the foyer, when she was severely called to order by the impatient Sorelli.
+A few of the dancers had already changed into ordinary dress; but most of them wore their skirts of gossamer gauze; and all had thought it the right thing to put on a special face for the occasion: all, that is, except little Jammes, whose fifteen summers—happy age!—seemed already to have forgotten the ghost and the death of Joseph Buquet. She never ceased to laugh and chatter, to hop about and play practical jokes, until MM. Debienne and Poligny appeared on the steps of the foyer, when she was severely called to order by the impatient Sorelli.
Everybody remarked that the retiring managers looked cheerful, as is the Paris way. None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom or indifference over his inward joy. You know that one of your friends is in trouble; do not try to console him: he will tell you that he is already comforted; but, should he have met with good fortune, be careful how you congratulate him: he thinks it so natural that he is surprised that you should speak of it. In Paris, our lives are one masked ball; and the foyer of the ballet is the last place in which two men so “knowing” as M. Debienne and M. Poligny would have made the mistake of betraying their grief, however genuine it might be. And they were already smiling rather too broadly upon Sorelli, who had begun to recite her speech, when an exclamation from that little madcap of a Jammes broke the smile of the managers so brutally that the expression of distress and dismay that lay beneath it became apparent to all eyes:
“The Opera ghost!”
Jammes yelled these words in a tone of unspeakable terror; and her finger pointed, among the crowd of dandies, to a face so pallid, so lugubrious and so ugly, with two such deep black cavities under the straddling eyebrows, that the death’s head in question immediately scored a huge success.
@@ -29,17 +29,17 @@Did the ghost really take a seat at the managers’ supper-table that night, uninvited? And can we be sure that the figure was that of the Opera ghost himself? Who would venture to assert as much? I mention the incident, not because I wish for a second to make the reader believe—or even to try to make him believe—that the ghost was capable of such a sublime piece of impudence; but because, after all, the thing is impossible.
M. Armand Moncharmin, in chapter eleven of his Memoirs, says:
--When I think of this first evening, I can not separate the secret confided to us by MM. Debienne and Poligny in their office from the presence at our supper of that ghostly person whom none of us knew.
+When I think of this first evening, I can not separate the secret confided to us by MM. Debienne and Poligny in their office from the presence at our supper of that ghostly person whom none of us knew.
What happened was this: MM. Debienne and Poligny, sitting at the center of the table, had not seen the man with the death’s head. Suddenly he began to speak.
+What happened was this: MM. Debienne and Poligny, sitting at the center of the table, had not seen the man with the death’s head. Suddenly he began to speak.
“The ballet-girls are right,” he said. “The death of that poor Buquet is perhaps not so natural as people think.”
Debienne and Poligny gave a start.
“Is Buquet dead?” they cried.
“Yes,” replied the man, or the shadow of a man, quietly. “He was found, this evening, hanging in the third cellar, between a farmhouse and a scene from the Roi de Lahore.”
-The two managers, or rather ex-managers, at once rose and stared strangely at the speaker. They were more excited than they need have been, that is to say, more excited than anyone need be by the announcement of the suicide of a chief scene-shifter. They looked at each other. They had both turned whiter than the tablecloth. At last, Debienne made a sign to MM. Richard and Moncharmin; Poligny muttered a few words of excuse to the guests; and all four went into the managers’ office. I leave M. Moncharmin to complete the story. In his Memoirs, he says:
+The two managers, or rather ex-managers, at once rose and stared strangely at the speaker. They were more excited than they need have been, that is to say, more excited than anyone need be by the announcement of the suicide of a chief scene-shifter. They looked at each other. They had both turned whiter than the tablecloth. At last, Debienne made a sign to MM. Richard and Moncharmin; Poligny muttered a few words of excuse to the guests; and all four went into the managers’ office. I leave M. Moncharmin to complete the story. In his Memoirs, he says:
-MM. Debienne and Poligny seemed to grow more and more excited, and they appeared to have something very difficult to tell us. First, they asked us if we knew the man, sitting at the end of the table, who had told them of the death of Joseph Buquet; and, when we answered in the negative, they looked still more concerned. They took the master-keys from our hands, stared at them for a moment and advised us to have new locks made, with the greatest secrecy, for the rooms, closets and presses that we might wish to have hermetically closed. They said this so funnily that we began to laugh and to ask if there were thieves at the Opera. They replied that there was something worse, which was the ghost. We began to laugh again, feeling sure that they were indulging in some joke that was intended to crown our little entertainment. Then, at their request, we became “serious,” resolving to humor them and to enter into the spirit of the game. They told us that they never would have spoken to us of the ghost, if they had not received formal orders from the ghost himself to ask us to be pleasant to him and to grant any request that he might make. However, in their relief at leaving a domain where that tyrannical shade held sway, they had hesitated until the last moment to tell us this curious story, which our skeptical minds were certainly not prepared to entertain. But the announcement of the death of Joseph Buquet had served them as a brutal reminder that, whenever they had disregarded the ghost’s wishes, some fantastic or disastrous event had brought them to a sense of their dependence.
-During these unexpected utterances made in a tone of the most secret and important confidence, I looked at Richard. Richard, in his student days, had acquired a great reputation for practical joking, and he seemed to relish the dish which was being served up to him in his turn. He did not miss a morsel of it, though the seasoning was a little gruesome because of the death of Buquet. He nodded his head sadly, while the others spoke, and his features assumed the air of a man who bitterly regretted having taken over the Opera, now that he knew that there was a ghost mixed up in the business. I could think of nothing better than to give him a servile imitation of this attitude of despair. However, in spite of all our efforts, we could not, at the finish, help bursting out laughing in the faces of MM. Debienne and Poligny, who, seeing us pass straight from the gloomiest state of mind to one of the most insolent merriment, acted as though they thought that we had gone mad.
+MM. Debienne and Poligny seemed to grow more and more excited, and they appeared to have something very difficult to tell us. First, they asked us if we knew the man, sitting at the end of the table, who had told them of the death of Joseph Buquet; and, when we answered in the negative, they looked still more concerned. They took the master-keys from our hands, stared at them for a moment and advised us to have new locks made, with the greatest secrecy, for the rooms, closets and presses that we might wish to have hermetically closed. They said this so funnily that we began to laugh and to ask if there were thieves at the Opera. They replied that there was something worse, which was the ghost. We began to laugh again, feeling sure that they were indulging in some joke that was intended to crown our little entertainment. Then, at their request, we became “serious,” resolving to humor them and to enter into the spirit of the game. They told us that they never would have spoken to us of the ghost, if they had not received formal orders from the ghost himself to ask us to be pleasant to him and to grant any request that he might make. However, in their relief at leaving a domain where that tyrannical shade held sway, they had hesitated until the last moment to tell us this curious story, which our skeptical minds were certainly not prepared to entertain. But the announcement of the death of Joseph Buquet had served them as a brutal reminder that, whenever they had disregarded the ghost’s wishes, some fantastic or disastrous event had brought them to a sense of their dependence.
+During these unexpected utterances made in a tone of the most secret and important confidence, I looked at Richard. Richard, in his student days, had acquired a great reputation for practical joking, and he seemed to relish the dish which was being served up to him in his turn. He did not miss a morsel of it, though the seasoning was a little gruesome because of the death of Buquet. He nodded his head sadly, while the others spoke, and his features assumed the air of a man who bitterly regretted having taken over the Opera, now that he knew that there was a ghost mixed up in the business. I could think of nothing better than to give him a servile imitation of this attitude of despair. However, in spite of all our efforts, we could not, at the finish, help bursting out laughing in the faces of MM. Debienne and Poligny, who, seeing us pass straight from the gloomiest state of mind to one of the most insolent merriment, acted as though they thought that we had gone mad.
The joke became a little tedious; and Richard asked half-seriously and half in jest:
“But, after all, what does this ghost of yours want?”
M. Poligny went to his desk and returned with a copy of the memorandum-book. The memorandum-book begins with the well-known words saying that “the management of the Opera shall give to the performance of the National Academy of Music the splendor that becomes the first lyric stage in France” and ends with Clause 98, which says that the privilege can be withdrawn if the manager infringes the conditions stipulated in the memorandum-book. This is followed by the conditions, which are four in number.
@@ -52,7 +52,7 @@“Yes, he does,” replied Poligny.
And he turned over the pages of the memorandum-book until he came to the clause specifying the days on which certain private boxes were to be reserved for the free use of the president of the republic, the ministers and so on. At the end of this clause, a line had been added, also in red ink:
“Box Five on the grand tier shall be placed at the disposal of the Opera ghost for every performance.”
-When we saw this, there was nothing else for us to do but to rise from our chairs, shake our two predecessors warmly by the hand and congratulate them on thinking of this charming little joke, which proved that the old French sense of humor was never likely to become extinct. Richard added that he now understood why MM. Debienne and Poligny were retiring from the management of the National Academy of Music. Business was impossible with so unreasonable a ghost.
+When we saw this, there was nothing else for us to do but to rise from our chairs, shake our two predecessors warmly by the hand and congratulate them on thinking of this charming little joke, which proved that the old French sense of humor was never likely to become extinct. Richard added that he now understood why MM. Debienne and Poligny were retiring from the management of the National Academy of Music. Business was impossible with so unreasonable a ghost.
“Certainly, two hundred and forty thousand francs are not to be picked up for the asking,” said M. Poligny, without moving a muscle of his face. “And have you considered what the loss over Box Five meant to us? We did not sell it once; and not only that, but we had to return the subscription: why, it’s awful! We really can’t work to keep ghosts! We prefer to go away!”
“Yes,” echoed M. Debienne, “we prefer to go away. Let us go.”
And he stood up. Richard said: “But, after all, it seems to me that you were much too kind to the ghost. If I had such a troublesome ghost as that, I should not hesitate to have him arrested—”
diff --git a/src/epub/text/chapter-4.xhtml b/src/epub/text/chapter-4.xhtml index 8f0eded..d05bddf 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/chapter-4.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/chapter-4.xhtml @@ -15,12 +15,12 @@Firmin Richard was a very distinguished composer, who had published a number of successful pieces of all kinds and who liked nearly every form of music and every sort of musician. Clearly, therefore, it was the duty of every sort of musician to like M. Firmin Richard. The only things to be said against him were that he was rather masterful in his ways and endowed with a very hasty temper.
The first few days which the partners spent at the Opera were given over to the delight of finding themselves the head of so magnificent an enterprise; and they had forgotten all about that curious, fantastic story of the ghost, when an incident occurred that proved to them that the joke—if joke it were—was not over. M. Firmin Richard reached his office that morning at eleven o’clock. His secretary, M. Rémy, showed him half a dozen letters which he had not opened because they were marked “private.” One of the letters had at once attracted Richard’s attention not only because the envelope was addressed in red ink, but because he seemed to have seen the writing before. He soon remembered that it was the red handwriting in which the memorandum-book had been so curiously completed. He recognized the clumsy childish hand. He opened the letter and read:
-Dear Mr. Manager:
+Dear Mr. Manager:
I am sorry to have to trouble you at a time when you must be so very busy, renewing important engagements, signing fresh ones and generally displaying your excellent taste. I know what you have done for Carlotta, Sorelli and little Jammes and for a few others whose admirable qualities of talent or genius you have suspected.
Of course, when I use these words, I do not mean to apply them to La Carlotta, who sings like a squirt and who ought never to have been allowed to leave the Ambassadeurs and the Café Jacquin; nor to La Sorelli, who owes her success mainly to the coach-builders; nor to little Jammes, who dances like a calf in a field. And I am not speaking of Christine Daaé either, though her genius is certain, whereas your jealousy prevents her from creating any important part. When all is said, you are free to conduct your little business as you think best, are you not?
All the same, I should like to take advantage of the fact that you have not yet turned Christine Daaé out of doors by hearing her this evening in the part of Siebel, as that of Margarita has been forbidden her since her triumph of the other evening; and I will ask you not to dispose of my box today nor on the following days, for I can not end this letter without telling you how disagreeably surprised I have been once or twice, to hear, on arriving at the Opera, that my box had been sold, at the box-office, by your orders.
-I did not protest, first, because I dislike scandal, and, second, because I thought that your predecessors, MM. Debienne and Poligny, who were always charming to me, had neglected, before leaving, to mention my little fads to you. I have now received a reply from those gentlemen to my letter asking for an explanation, and this reply proves that you know all about my memorandum-book and, consequently, that you are treating me with outrageous contempt. If you wish to live in peace, you must not begin by taking away my private box.
-Believe me to be, dear Mr. Manager, without prejudice to these little observations,
+I did not protest, first, because I dislike scandal, and, second, because I thought that your predecessors, MM. Debienne and Poligny, who were always charming to me, had neglected, before leaving, to mention my little fads to you. I have now received a reply from those gentlemen to my letter asking for an explanation, and this reply proves that you know all about my memorandum-book and, consequently, that you are treating me with outrageous contempt. If you wish to live in peace, you must not begin by taking away my private box.
+Believe me to be, dear Mr. Manager, without prejudice to these little observations,