“I was just going to you,” he said, taking off his hat. “Oh, Sorelli, what an evening! And Christine Daae: what a triumph!”
“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 brat1, with a saucy2 curtsey. “We are going to inquire after a poor man who was found hanging by the neck.”
Just then the acting3-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 Daae 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Reyer, his beautiful overture4 to Siguar; Saint Saens, the Danse Macabre5 and a Reverie Orientale; Massenet, an unpublished Hungarian march; Guiraud, his Carnaval; Delibes, the Valse Lente from Sylvia and the Pizzicati from Coppelia.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 Daae, 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 Opera 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 forth7 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.
Daae revealed a new Margarita that night, a Margarita of a splendor8, a radiance hitherto unsuspected. The whole house went mad, rising to its feet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed9 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 Daae 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 Daae, 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 applied10 to Daae, 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, standing11 up in his box, listened to all this frenzy12 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 aristocrat13 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 exquisitely14 polite to the women and a little haughty15 to the men, who did not always forgive him for his successes in society. He had an excellent heart and an irreproachable16 conscience. On the death of old Count Philibert, he became the head of one of the oldest and most distinguished17 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 widower18, 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 waived19 their claim to their shares, leaving themselves entirely20 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, nee 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 actively21 with the youngster’s education. He was admirably assisted in this work first by his sisters and afterward22 by an old aunt, the widow of a naval6 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 survivors23 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 apparently24 delicate stripling for the hard work in store for him.
The shyness of the sailor-lad — I was almost saying his innocence25 — was remarkable26. He seemed to have but just left the women’s apron-strings. As a matter of fact, petted as he was by his two sisters and his old aunt, he had retained from this purely27 feminine education manners that were almost candid28 and stamped with a charm that nothing had yet been able to sully. He was a little over twenty-one years of age and looked eighteen. He had a small, fair mustache, beautiful blue eyes and a complexion29 like a girl’s.
Philippe spoiled Raoul. To begin with, he was very proud of him and pleased to foresee a glorious career for his junior in the navy in which one of their ancestors, the famous Chagny de La Roche, had held the rank of admiral. He took advantage of the young man’s leave of absence to show him Paris, with all its luxurious30 and artistic31 delights. The count considered that, at Raoul’s age, it is not good to be too good. Philippe himself had a character that was very well-balanced in work and pleasure alike; his demeanor32 was always faultless; and he was incapable33 of setting his brother a bad example. He took him with him wherever he went. He even introduced him to the foyer of the ballet. I know that the count was said to be “on terms” with Sorelli. But it could hardly be reckoned as a crime for this nobleman, a bachelor, with plenty of leisure, especially since his sisters were settled, to come and spend an hour or two after dinner in the company of a dancer, who, though not so very, very witty34, had the finest eyes that ever were seen! And, besides, there are places where a true Parisian, when he has the rank of the Comte de Chagny, is bound to show himself; and at that time the foyer of the ballet at the Opera was one of those places.
Lastly, Philippe would perhaps not have taken his brother behind the scenes of the Opera if Raoul had not been the first to ask him, repeatedly renewing his request with a gentle obstinacy35 which the count remembered at a later date.
On that evening, Philippe, after applauding the Daae, turned to Raoul and saw that he was quite pale.
“Don’t you see,” said Raoul, “that the woman’s fainting?”
“You look like fainting yourself,” said the count. “What’s the matter?”
But Raoul had recovered himself and was standing up.
“Let’s go and see,” he said, “she never sang like that before.”
The count gave his brother a curious smiling glance and seemed quite pleased. They were soon at the door leading from the house to the stage. Numbers of subscribers were slowly making their way through. Raoul tore his gloves without knowing what he was doing and Philippe had much too kind a heart to laugh at him for his impatience36. But he now understood why Raoul was absent-minded when spoken to and why he always tried to turn every conversation to the subject of the Opera.
They reached the stage and pushed through the crowd of gentlemen, scene-shifters, supers and chorus-girls, Raoul leading the way, feeling that his heart no longer belonged to him, his face set with passion, while Count Philippe followed him with difficulty and continued to smile. At the back of the stage, Raoul had to stop before the inrush of the little troop of ballet-girls who blocked the passage which he was trying to enter. More than one chaffing phrase darted38 from little made-up lips, to which he did not reply; and at last he was able to pass, and dived into the semi-darkness of a corridor ringing with the name of “Daae! Daae!” The count was surprised to find that Raoul knew the way. He had never taken him to Christine’s himself and came to the conclusion that Raoul must have gone there alone while the count stayed talking in the foyer with Sorelli, who often asked him to wait until it was her time to “go on” and sometimes handed him the little gaiters in which she ran down from her dressing-room to preserve the spotlessness of her satin dancing-shoes and her flesh-colored tights. Sorelli had an excuse; she had lost her mother.
Postponing39 his usual visit to Sorelli for a few minutes, the count followed his brother down the passage that led to Daae’s dressing-room and saw that it had never been so crammed40 as on that evening, when the whole house seemed excited by her success and also by her fainting fit. For the girl had not yet come to; and the doctor of the theater had just arrived at the moment when Raoul entered at his heels. Christine, therefore, received the first aid of the one, while opening her eyes in the arms of the other. The count and many more remained crowding in the doorway41.
“Don’t you think, Doctor, that those gentlemen had better clear the room?” asked Raoul coolly. “There’s no breathing here.”
“You’re quite right,” said the doctor.
And he sent every one away, except Raoul and the maid, who looked at Raoul with eyes of the most undisguised astonishment42. She had never seen him before and yet dared not question him; and the doctor imagined that the young man was only acting as he did because he had the right to. The viscount, therefore, remained in the room watching Christine as she slowly returned to life, while even the joint43 managers, Debienne and Poligny, who had come to offer their sympathy and congratulations, found themselves thrust into the passage among the crowd of dandies. The Comte de Chagny, who was one of those standing outside, laughed:
“Oh, the rogue44, the rogue!” And he added, under his breath: “Those youngsters with their school-girl airs! So he’s a Chagny after all!”
He turned to go to Sorelli’s dressing-room, but met her on the way, with her little troop of trembling ballet-girls, as we have seen.
Meanwhile, Christine Daae uttered a deep sigh, which was answered by a groan45. She turned her head, saw Raoul and started. She looked at the doctor, on whom she bestowed46 a smile, then at her maid, then at Raoul again.
“Monsieur,” she said, in a voice not much above a whisper, “who are you?”
“Mademoiselle,” replied the young man, kneeling on one knee and pressing a fervent47 kiss on the diva’s hand, “I AM THE LITTLE BOY WHO WENT INTO THE SEA TO RESCUE YOUR SCARF.”
Christine again looked at the doctor and the maid; and all three began to laugh.
Raoul turned very red and stood up.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, “since you are pleased not to recognize me, I should like to say something to you in private, something very important.”
“When I am better, do you mind?” And her voice shook. “You have been very good.”
“Yes, you must go,” said the doctor, with his pleasantest smile. “Leave me to attend to mademoiselle.”
“I am not ill now,” said Christine suddenly, with strange and unexpected energy.
She rose and passed her hand over her eyelids48.
“Thank you, Doctor. I should like to be alone. Please go away, all of you. Leave me. I feel very restless this evening.”
The doctor tried to make a short protest, but, perceiving the girl’s evident agitation49, he thought the best remedy was not to thwart50 her. And he went away, saying to Raoul, outside:
“She is not herself to-night. She is usually so gentle.”
Then he said good night and Raoul was left alone. The whole of this part of the theater was now deserted51. The farewell ceremony was no doubt taking place in the foyer of the ballet. Raoul thought that Daae might go to it and he waited in the silent solitude52, even hiding in the favoring shadow of a doorway. He felt a terrible pain at his heart and it was of this that he wanted to speak to Daae without delay.
Suddenly the dressing-room door opened and the maid came out by herself, carrying bundles. He stopped her and asked how her mistress was. The woman laughed and said that she was quite well, but that he must not disturb her, for she wished to be left alone. And she passed on. One idea alone filled Raoul’s burning brain: of course, Daae wished to be left alone FOR HIM! Had he not told her that he wanted to speak to her privately53?
Hardly breathing, he went up to the dressing-room and, with his ear to the door to catch her reply, prepared to knock. But his hand dropped. He had heard A MAN’S VOICE in the dressing-room, saying, in a curiously54 masterful tone:
“Christine, you must love me!”
And Christine’s voice, infinitely55 sad and trembling, as though accompanied by tears, replied:
“How can you talk like that? WHEN I SING ONLY FOR YOU!”
Raoul leaned against the panel to ease his pain. His heart, which had seemed gone for ever, returned to his breast and was throbbing56 loudly. The whole passage echoed with its beating and Raoul’s ears were deafened57. Surely, if his heart continued to make such a noise, they would hear it inside, they would open the door and the young man would be turned away in disgrace. What a position for a Chagny! To be caught listening behind a door! He took his heart in his two hands to make it stop.
The man’s voice spoke37 again: “Are you very tired?”
“Oh, to-night I gave you my soul and I am dead!” Christine replied.
“Your soul is a beautiful thing, child,” replied the grave man’s voice, “and I thank you. No emperor ever received so fair a gift. THE ANGELS WEPT TONIGHT.”
Raoul heard nothing after that. Nevertheless, he did not go away, but, as though he feared lest he should be caught, he returned to his dark corner, determined58 to wait for the man to leave the room. At one and the same time, he had learned what love meant, and hatred59. He knew that he loved. He wanted to know whom he hated. To his great astonishment, the door opened and Christine Daae appeared, wrapped in furs, with her face hidden in a lace veil, alone. She closed the door behind her, but Raoul observed that she did not lock it. She passed him. He did not even follow her with his eyes, for his eyes were fixed60 on the door, which did not open again.
When the passage was once more deserted, he crossed it, opened the door of the dressing-room, went in and shut the door. He found himself in absolute darkness. The gas had been turned out.
“There is some one here!” said Raoul, with his back against the closed door, in a quivering voice. “What are you hiding for?”
All was darkness and silence. Raoul heard only the sound of his own breathing. He quite failed to see that the indiscretion of his conduct was exceeding all bounds.
“You shan’t leave this until I let you!” he exclaimed. “If you don’t answer, you are a coward! But I’ll expose you!”
And he struck a match. The blaze lit up the room. There was no one in the room! Raoul, first turning the key in the door, lit the gas-jets. He went into the dressing-closet, opened the cupboards, hunted about, felt the walls with his moist hands. Nothing!
“Look here!” he said, aloud. “Am I going mad?”
He stood for ten minutes listening to the gas flaring61 in the silence of the empty room; lover though he was, he did not even think of stealing a ribbon that would have given him the perfume of the woman he loved. He went out, not knowing what he was doing nor where he was going. At a given moment in his wayward progress, an icy draft struck him in the face. He found himself at the bottom of a staircase, down which, behind him, a procession of workmen were carrying a sort of stretcher, covered with a white sheet.
“Which is the way out, please?” he asked of one of the men.
“Straight in front of you, the door is open. But let us pass.”
Pointing to the stretcher, he asked mechanically: “What’s that?”
The workmen answered:
“‘That’ is Joseph Buquet, who was found in the third cellar, hanging between a farm-house and a scene from the ROI DE LAHORE.”
He took off his hat, fell back to make room for the procession and went out.
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1
brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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macabre
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| adj.骇人的，可怖的 | |
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naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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10
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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aristocrat
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| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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15
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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irreproachable
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| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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widower
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| n.鳏夫 | |
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19
waived
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| v.宣布放弃( waive的过去式和过去分词 )；搁置；推迟；放弃（权利、要求等） | |
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20
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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survivors
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| 幸存者，残存者，生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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24
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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37
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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38
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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postponing
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| v.延期，推迟( postpone的现在分词 ) | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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41
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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42
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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43
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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45
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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46
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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48
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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49
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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50
thwart
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| v.阻挠，妨碍，反对；adj.横(断的) | |
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51
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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52
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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53
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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54
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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55
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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56
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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57
deafened
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| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
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58
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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60
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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61
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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