The Phantom of the Opera & The Mystery of the Yellow Room (Unabridged). Гастон Леру

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 a virtuous 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, had arrived before him:

      MY DEAR LITTLE PLAYFELLOW:

      You must have the courage not to see me again, not to speak of me again. If you love me just a little, do this for me, for me who will never forget you, my dear Raoul. My life depends upon it. Your life depends 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 jewel song:

      "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 flung herself into her part without restraint of modesty ... She was no longer Margarita, she was Carmen. She was applauded all the more; and her debut with Faust seemed about to bring her a new success, when suddenly ... 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 thing happened... Carlotta croaked like a toad:

      "Co-ack!"

      There was consternation on Carlotta's face and consternation on the faces of all the audience. The two managers in their box could not suppress an exclamation of horror. Every one felt that the thing was not natural, that there was witchcraft behind it. That toad smelt of brimstone. Poor, wretched, despairing, crushed Carlotta!

      The uproar in the house was indescribable. If the thing had happened to any one but Carlotta, she would have been hooted. But everybody knew how perfect an instrument her voice was; and there was no display of anger, but only of horror and dismay, the sort of dismay which men would have felt if they had witnessed the catastrophe that broke the arms 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 some seconds spent in asking herself if she had really heard that note, that sound, that infernal noise issue from her throat, she tried to persuade herself that it was not so, that she was the victim of an illusion, an illusion of the ear, and not of an act of treachery on the part of her voice....

      Meanwhile, in Box Five, Moncharmin and Richard had turned very pale. This extraordinary and inexplicable incident filled them with a dread which was the more mysterious inasmuch as for some little while, they had fallen within the direct influence of the ghost. They had felt his breath. Moncharmin's hair stood on end. Richard wiped the perspiration 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 sure that there were three people in the box ... They trembled ... They thought of running away ... They dared not ... They dared not make a movement or exchange a word that would have told the ghost that they knew that he was there! ... What was going to happen?

      This happened.

      "Co-ack!" Their joint exclamation of horror was heard all over the house. THEY FELT THAT THEY WERE SMARTING UNDER THE GHOST'S ATTACKS. Leaning over the ledge of their box, they stared at Carlotta as though they did not recognize her. That infernal girl must have given the signal for some catastrophe. Ah, they were waiting for the catastrophe! The ghost had told them it would come! The house had a curse upon it! The two managers gasped and panted under the weight of the catastrophe. Richard's stifled voice was heard calling to Carlotta:

      "Well, go on!"

      No, Carlotta did not go on ... Bravely, heroically, she started afresh on the fatal line at the end of which the toad had appeared.

      An awful silence succeeded the uproar. Carlotta's voice alone once more 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 in their chairs and dared not even turn round; they had not the strength; the ghost was chuckling behind their backs! And, at last, they distinctly 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 a terrible cry. The chandelier, the immense mass of the chandelier was slipping down, coming toward them, at the call of that fiendish voice. Released from its hook, it plunged from the ceiling and came smashing into the middle of the stalls, amid a thousand shouts of terror. A wild rush for the doors followed.

      The papers of the day state that there were numbers wounded and one killed. The chandelier had crashed down upon the head of the wretched woman who had come to the Opera for the first time in her life, the one whom M. Richard had appointed to succeed Mme. Giry, the ghost's box-keeper, in her functions! She died on the spot and, the next morning, a newspaper appeared with this heading:

      TWO HUNDRED KILOS ON THE HEAD OF A CONCIERGE

      That was her sole epitaph!

Chapter VIII. The Mysterious Brougham

       Table of Contents

      That tragic evening was bad for everybody. Carlotta fell ill. As for Christine Daae, she disappeared after the performance. A fortnight elapsed during which she was seen neither at the Opera nor outside.

      Raoul, of course, was the first to be astonished at the prima donna's absence. He wrote to her at Mme. Valerius' flat and received no reply. His grief increased and he ended by being seriously alarmed at never seeing her name on the program. FAUST was played without her.

      One afternoon he went to the managers' office to ask the reason of Christine's disappearance. He found them both looking extremely worried. Their own friends did not recognize them: they had lost all their gaiety and spirits. They were seen crossing the stage with hanging heads, care-worn brows, pale cheeks, as though pursued by some abominable thought or a prey to some persistent sport of fate.

      The fall of the chandelier had involved them in no little responsibility; but it was difficult to make them speak about it. The inquest