Chapter II The New Margarita
On the first landing, Sorelli ran against the Comte de Chagny, who wascoming up-stairs. The count, who was generally so calm, seemed greatlyexcited.
"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 aCROCK! But do let us get by, my dear count," continues the brat, witha saucy curtsey. "We are going to inquire after a poor man who wasfound hanging by the neck."
Just then the acting-manager came fussing past and stopped when heheard 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. Debienneand 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 ofpeople. The Comte de Chagny was right; no gala performance everequalled this one. All the great composers of the day had conductedtheir own works in turns. Faure and Krauss had sung; and, on thatevening, Christine Daae had revealed her true self, for the first time,to the astonished and enthusiastic audience. Gounod had conducted theFuneral March of a Marionnette; Reyer, his beautiful overture toSiguar; Saint Saens, the Danse Macabre and a Reverie Orientale;Massenet, an unpublished Hungarian march; Guiraud, his Carnaval;Delibes, the Valse Lente from Sylvia and the Pizzicati from Coppelia.Mlle.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 bysinging a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. It was the first timethat the young artist sang in this work of Gounod, which had not beentransferred to the Opera and which was revived at the Opera Comiqueafter it had been produced at the old Theatre Lyrique by Mme. Carvalho.Those who heard her say that her voice, in these passages, wasseraphic; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gaveforth in the prison scene and the final trio in FAUST, which she sangin the place of La Carlotta, who was ill. No one had ever heard orseen anything like it.
Daae revealed a new Margarita that night, a Margarita of a splendor, aradiance hitherto unsuspected. The whole house went mad, rising to itsfeet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed and faintedin the arms of her fellow-singers and had to be carried to herdressing-room. A few subscribers, however, protested. Why had so greata treasure been kept from them all that time? Till then, ChristineDaae had played a good Siebel to Carlotta's rather too splendidlymaterial Margarita. And it had needed Carlotta's incomprehensible andinexcusable absence from this gala night for the little Daae, at amoment's warning, to show all that she could do in a part of theprogram reserved for the Spanish diva! Well, what the subscriberswanted to know was, why had Debienne and Poligny applied to Daae, whenCarlotta was taken ill? Did they know of her hidden genius? And, ifthey knew of it, why had they kept it hidden? And why had she kept ithidden? Oddly enough, she was not known to have a professor of singingat that moment. She had often said she meant to practise alone for thefuture. The whole thing was a mystery.
The Comte de Chagny, standing up in his box, listened to all thisfrenzy and took part in it by loudly applauding. Philippe GeorgesMarie Comte de Chagny was just forty-one years of age. He was a greataristocrat and a good-looking man, above middle height and withattractive features, in spite of his hard forehead and his rather coldeyes. He was exquisitely polite to the women and a little haughty tothe men, who did not always forgive him for his successes in society.He had an excellent heart and an irreproachable conscience. On thedeath of old Count Philibert, he became the head of one of the oldestand most distinguished families in France, whose arms dated back to thefourteenth century. The Chagnys owned a great deal of property; and,when the old count, who was a widower, died, it was no easy task forPhilippe to accept the management of so large an estate. His twosisters and his brother, Raoul, would not hear of a division and waivedtheir claim to their shares, leaving themselves entirely in Philippe'shands, as though the right of primogeniture had never ceased to exist.When the two sisters married, on the same day, they received theirportion from their brother, not as a thing rightfully belonging tothem, but as a dowry for which they thanked him.
The Comtesse de Chagny, nee de Moerogis de La Martyniere, had died ingiving birth to Raoul, who was born twenty years after his elderbrother. At the time of the old count's death, Raoul was twelve yearsof age. Philippe busied himself actively with the youngster'seducation. He was admirably assisted in this work first by his sistersand afterward by an old aunt, the widow of a naval officer, who livedat Brest and gave young Raoul a taste for the sea. The lad entered theBorda training-ship, finished his course with honors and quietly madehis trip round the world. Thanks to powerful influence, he had justbeen 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 ofthe D'Artoi's expedition, of whom nothing had been heard for threeyears. Meanwhile, he was enjoying a long furlough which would not beover for six months; and already the dowagers of the FaubourgSaint-Germain were pitying the handsome and apparently delicatestripling for the hard work in store for him.
The shyness of the sailor-lad--I was almost saying his innocence--wasremarkable. 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 oldaunt, he had retained from this purely feminine education manners thatwere almost candid and stamped with a charm that nothing had yet beenable to sully. He was a little over twenty-one years of age and lookedeighteen. He had a small, fair mustache, beautiful blue eyes and acomplexion like a girl's.
Philippe spoiled Raoul. To begin with, he was very proud of him andpleased to foresee a glorious career for his junior in the navy inwhich one of their ancestors, the famous Chagny de La Roche, had heldthe rank of admiral. He took advantage of the young man's leave ofabsence to show him Paris, with all its luxurious and artisticdelights. The count considered that, at Raoul's age, it is not good tobe too good. Philippe himself had a character that was verywell-balanced in work and pleasure alike; his demeanor was alwaysfaultless; and he was incapable of setting his brother a bad example.He took him with him wherever he went. He even introduced him to thefoyer 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 thisnobleman, a bachelor, with plenty of leisure, especially since hissisters were settled, to come and spend an hour or two after dinner inthe company of a dancer, who, though not so very, very witty, had thefinest eyes that ever were seen! And, besides, there are places wherea true Parisian, when he has the rank of the Comte de Chagny, is boundto show himself; and at that time the foyer of the ballet at the Operawas one of those places.
Lastly, Philippe would perhaps not have taken his brother behind thescenes of the Opera if Raoul had not been the first to ask him,repeatedly renewing his request with a gentle obstinacy which the countremembered at a later date.
On that evening, Philippe, after applauding the Daae, turned to Raouland 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 quitepleased. They were soon at the door leading from the house to thestage. Numbers of subscribers were slowly making their way through.Raoul tore his gloves without knowing what he was doing and Philippehad much too kind a heart to laugh at him for his impatience. But henow understood why Raoul was absent-minded when spoken to and why healways tried to turn every conversation to the subject of the Opera.
They reached the stage and pushed through the crowd of gentlemen,scene-sh
ifters, supers and chorus-girls, Raoul leading the way, feelingthat his heart no longer belonged to him, his face set with passion,while Count Philippe followed him with difficulty and continued tosmile. At the back of the stage, Raoul had to stop before the inrushof the little troop of ballet-girls who blocked the passage which hewas trying to enter. More than one chaffing phrase darted from littlemade-up lips, to which he did not reply; and at last he was able topass, and dived into the semi-darkness of a corridor ringing with thename of "Daae! Daae!" The count was surprised to find that Raoul knewthe way. He had never taken him to Christine's himself and came to theconclusion that Raoul must have gone there alone while the count stayedtalking in the foyer with Sorelli, who often asked him to wait until itwas her time to "go on" and sometimes handed him the little gaiters inwhich she ran down from her dressing-room to preserve the spotlessnessof her satin dancing-shoes and her flesh-colored tights. Sorelli hadan excuse; she had lost her mother.
Postponing his usual visit to Sorelli for a few minutes, the countfollowed his brother down the passage that led to Daae's dressing-roomand saw that it had never been so crammed as on that evening, when thewhole 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 hadjust arrived at the moment when Raoul entered at his heels. Christine,therefore, received the first aid of the one, while opening her eyes inthe arms of the other. The count and many more remained crowding inthe doorway.
"Don't you think, Doctor, that those gentlemen had better clear theroom?" 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 atRaoul with eyes of the most undisguised astonishment. She had neverseen him before and yet dared not question him; and the doctor imaginedthat the young man was only acting as he did because he had the rightto. The viscount, therefore, remained in the room watching Christineas she slowly returned to life, while even the joint managers, Debienneand 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 rogue, the rogue!" And he added, under his breath: "Thoseyoungsters 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 agroan. She turned her head, saw Raoul and started. She looked at thedoctor, on whom she bestowed a smile, then at her maid, then at Raoulagain.
"Monsieur," she said, in a voice not much above a whisper, "who areyou?"
"Mademoiselle," replied the young man, kneeling on one knee andpressing a fervent kiss on the diva's hand, "I AM THE LITTLE BOY WHOWENT INTO THE SEA TO RESCUE YOUR SCARF."
Christine again looked at the doctor and the maid; and all three beganto laugh.
Raoul turned very red and stood up.
"Mademoiselle," he said, "since you are pleased not to recognize me, Ishould like to say something to you in private, something veryimportant."
"When I am better, do you mind?" And her voice shook. "You have beenvery 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 andunexpected energy.
She rose and passed her hand over her eyelids.
"Thank you, Doctor. I should like to be alone. Please go away, all ofyou. Leave me. I feel very restless this evening."
The doctor tried to make a short protest, but, perceiving the girl'sevident agitation, he thought the best remedy was not to thwart 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 thispart of the theater was now deserted. The farewell ceremony was nodoubt taking place in the foyer of the ballet. Raoul thought that Daaemight go to it and he waited in the silent solitude, even hiding in thefavoring shadow of a doorway. He felt a terrible pain at his heart andit was of this that he wanted to speak to Daae without delay.
Suddenly the dressing-room door opened and the maid came out byherself, carrying bundles. He stopped her and asked how her mistresswas. The woman laughed and said that she was quite well, but that hemust not disturb her, for she wished to be left alone. And she passedon. One idea alone filled Raoul's burning brain: of course, Daaewished to be left alone FOR HIM! Had he not told her that he wanted tospeak to her privately?
Hardly breathing, he went up to the dressing-room and, with his ear tothe 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 curiouslymasterful tone:
"Christine, you must love me!"
And Christine's voice, infinitely sad and trembling, as thoughaccompanied 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 hadseemed gone for ever, returned to his breast and was throbbing loudly.The whole passage echoed with its beating and Raoul's ears weredeafened. Surely, if his heart continued to make such a noise, theywould hear it inside, they would open the door and the young man wouldbe turned away in disgrace. What a position for a Chagny! To becaught listening behind a door! He took his heart in his two hands tomake it stop.
The man's voice spoke 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 ANGELSWEPT 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 darkcorner, determined to wait for the man to leave the room. At one andthe same time, he had learned what love meant, and hatred. He knewthat he loved. He wanted to know whom he hated. To his greatastonishment, the door opened and Christine Daae appeared, wrapped infurs, with her face hidden in a lace veil, alone. She closed the doorbehind her, but Raoul observed that she did not lock it. She passedhim. He did not even follow her with his eyes, for his eyes were fixedon the door, which did not open again.
When the passage was once more deserted, he crossed it, opened the doorof the dressing-room, went in and shut the door. He found himself inabsolute darkness. The gas had been turned out.
"There is some one here!" said Raoul, with his back against the closeddoor, in a quivering voice. "What are you hiding for?"
All was darkness and silence. Raoul heard only the sound of his ownbreathing. He quite failed to see that the indiscretion of his conductwas exceeding all bounds.
"You shan't leave this until I let you!" he exclaimed. "If you don'tanswer, you are a coward! But I'll expose you!"
And he struck a match. The blaze lit up the room. There was no one inthe 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 flaring in the silence ofthe empty room; lover though he was, he did not even think of stealinga 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. Ata given moment in his wayward progress, an icy draft struck him in theface. 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, hangingbetween 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 wentout.