The Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux (bill gates best books .TXT) 📗

enthusiastic applause. It was so unexpected and so uncalled for that those who knew nothing about the rumors looked at one another and asked what was happening. And this act also was finished 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 to the subscribers’ entrance to warn Carlotta. The managers left the box during the entr’acte to find out more about the cabal of which the stage-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 English sweets on the little shelf of the ledge. Who had put it there? They asked the box-keepers, but none of them knew. Then they went back to the shelf and, next to the box of sweets, found an opera glass. They looked 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.⁠ ⁠… They sat 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 lilacs in her hand, Christine, raising her head, saw the Vicomte de Chagny in his box; and, from that moment, her voice seemed less sure, less crystal-clear than usual. Something seemed to deaden and dull her singing.⁠ ⁠…

“What a queer girl she is!” said one of Carlotta’s friends in the stalls, almost aloud. “The other day she was divine; and tonight she’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, behind him, viciously gnawed his mustache, shrugged his shoulders and frowned. For him, usually so cold and correct, to betray his inner feelings like that, by outward signs, the count must be very angry. He was. He had seen his brother return from a rapid and mysterious journey in an alarming state of health. The explanation that followed was unsatisfactory and the count asked Christine Daaé for an appointment. She had the audacity to reply that she could not see either him or his brother.⁠ ⁠…

“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 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 début 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. Everyone 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 anyone 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