Kitabı oku: «Призрак оперы / The Phantom of the Opera», sayfa 10

“A ghost asking for a footstool! Then this ghost of yours is a woman?”

“No, the ghost is a man.”

“How do you know?”

“He has a man’s voice, oh, such a lovely man’s voice! This is what happens: When he comes to the opera, it’s usually in the middle of the first act. He gives three little taps on the door of Box Five. The first time I heard those three taps, when I knew there was no one in the box, you can think how puzzled I was! I opened the door, listened, looked; nobody! And then I heard a voice say, ‘A footstool, please.’ Then the voice went on, ‘Don’t be frightened, Mme., I’m the Opera ghost!’ And the voice was very soft and kind. The voice was sitting in the corner chair, on the right, in the front row.”

“Was there any one in the box on the right of Box Five?” asked Moncharmin.

“No; Box Seven, and Box Three, the one on the left, were both empty. The curtain had only just gone up.”

“And what did you do?”

“Well, I brought the footstool. Of course, it wasn’t for himself he wanted it, but for his lady! But I never heard her nor saw her.”

“Eh? What? So now the ghost is married!” The eyes of the two managers traveled from Mme. Giry to the inspector, who, standing behind the box-keeper, was waving his arms to attract their attention. He tapped his forehead with a distressful forefinger, to show that the poor widow was certainly mad. Meanwhile, the lady went on about her ghost:

“At the end of the performance, he always gives me two francs, sometimes five, sometimes even ten. Only, since people have begun to annoy him again, he gives me nothing at all.

“Excuse me, my good woman,” said Moncharmin, “excuse me, how does the ghost manage to give you your two francs?”

“Why, he leaves them on the little shelf in the box, of course. I find them with the program, which I always give him. Some evenings, I find flowers in the box.”

“That will do, Mme. Giry. You can go.”

When Mme. Giry had left, with the dignity that never deserted her, the manager told the inspector that they had decided to dispense with that old madwoman’s services. Then the managers decided to visit that Box Five themselves.

Chapter V

Christine Daae, owing to intrigues to which I will return later, did not immediately continue her triumph at the Opera. After the famous gala night, she sang once at the Duchess de Zurich’s. She knew that the Comte de Chagny, to please his brother, had done his best on her behalf ³⁴with M. Richard; and she wrote to thank him and also to ask him to cease speaking in her favor. Her reason for this curious attitude was never known. Some pretended that it was due to her pride; others spoke of her heavenly modesty. But people on the stage are not so modest as all that; and I think that I shall not be far from the truth if I ascribe her action simply to fear. Yes, I believe that Christine Daae was frightened by what had happened to her.

I have a letter of Christine’s, relating to this period, which suggests a feeling of absolute dismay:

“I don’t know myself when I sing,” wrote the poor child.

She showed herself nowhere; and the Vicomte de Chagny tried in vain to meet her. He wrote to her, asking to call upon her, and one morning, she sent him the following note:

Monsieur:

I have not forgotten the little boy who went into the sea to rescue my scarf. I feel that I must write to you today. Tomorrow is the anniversary of the death of my poor father, whom you knew and who was very fond of you. He is buried, with his violin, in the graveyard of the little church, at the bottom of the slope where we used to play as children, beside the road where, when we were a little bigger, we said good-by for the last time.

The Vicomte de Chagny hurriedly consulted a railway guide, dressed as quickly as he could, wrote a few lines for his valet and jumped into a cab which brought him to the Gare Montparnasse³⁵. Soon he was seated in his compartment in the express. He read Christine’s note over and over again, smelling its perfume, recalling the sweet pictures of his childhood.

One day, little Christine came to the shore. At that time, there was nothing but sky and sea and a stretch of golden beach. Only, there was also a high wind, which blew Christine’s scarf out to sea. Christine gave a cry, but the scarf was already far on the waves. Then she heard a voice say:

“It’s all right, I’ll go and fetch your scarf out of the sea.”

And she saw a little boy running fast. The little boy ran into the sea, dressed as he was, and brought her back her scarf. Christine laughed merrily and kissed the little boy, who was none other than the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. During the season, they saw each other and played together almost every day.