Chapter IV Box Five
Armand Moncharmin wrote such voluminous Memoirs during the fairly longperiod of his co-management that we may well ask if he ever found timeto attend to the affairs of the Opera otherwise than by telling whatwent on there. M. Moncharmin did not know a note of music, but hecalled the minister of education and fine arts by his Christian name,had dabbled a little in society journalism and enjoyed a considerableprivate income. Lastly, he was a charming fellow and showed that hewas not lacking in intelligence, for, as soon as he made up his mind tobe a sleeping partner in the Opera, he selected the best possibleactive manager and went straight to Firmin Richard.
Firmin Richard was a very distinguished composer, who had published anumber of successful pieces of all kinds and who liked nearly everyform of music and every sort of musician. Clearly, therefore, it wasthe duty of every sort of musician to like M. Firmin Richard. The onlythings to be said against him were that he was rather masterful in hisways and endowed with a very hasty temper.
The first few days which the partners spent at the Opera were givenover to the delight of finding themselves the head of so magnificent anenterprise; and they had forgotten all about that curious, fantasticstory of the ghost, when an incident occurred that proved to them thatthe joke--if joke it were--was not over. M. Firmin Richard reached hisoffice that morning at eleven o'clock. His secretary, M. Remy, showedhim half a dozen letters which he had not opened because they weremarked "private." One of the letters had at once attracted Richard'sattention not only because the envelope was addressed in red ink, butbecause he seemed to have seen the writing before. He soon rememberedthat it was the red handwriting in which the memorandum-book had beenso curiously completed. He recognized the clumsy childish hand. Heopened the letter and read:
DEAR MR. MANAGER:
I am sorry to have to trouble you at a time when you must be so verybusy, renewing important engagements, signing fresh ones and generallydisplaying your excellent taste. I know what you have done forCarlotta, Sorelli and little Jammes and for a few others whoseadmirable qualities of talent or genius you have suspected.
Of course, when I use these words, I do not mean to apply them to LaCarlotta, who sings like a squirt and who ought never to have beenallowed to leave the Ambassadeurs and the Cafe Jacquin; nor to LaSorelli, who owes her success mainly to the coach-builders; nor tolittle Jammes, who dances like a calf in a field. And I am notspeaking of Christine Daae either, though her genius is certain,whereas your jealousy prevents her from creating any important part.When all is said, you are free to conduct your little business as youthink best, are you not?
All the same, I should like to take advantage of the fact that you havenot yet turned Christine Daae out of doors by hearing her this eveningin the part of Siebel, as that of Margarita has been forbidden hersince her triumph of the other evening; and I will ask you not todispose of my box to-day nor on the FOLLOWING DAYS, for I can not endthis letter without telling you how disagreeably surprised I have beenonce or twice, to hear, on arriving at the Opera, that my box had beensold, at the box-office, by your orders.
I did not protest, first, because I dislike scandal, and, second,because I thought that your predecessors, MM. Debienne and Poligny, whowere always charming to me, had neglected, before leaving, to mentionmy little fads to you. I have now received a reply from thosegentlemen to my letter asking for an explanation, and this reply provesthat you know all about my Memorandum-Book and, consequently, that youare treating me with outrageous contempt. IF YOU WISH TO LIVE INPEACE, YOU MUST NOT BEGIN BY TAKING AWAY MY PRIVATE BOX.
Believe me to be, dear Mr. Manager, without prejudice to these littleobservations,
Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant, OPERA GHOST.
The letter was accompanied by a cutting from the agony-column of theRevue Theatrale, which ran:
O. G.--There is no excuse for R. and M. We told them and left yourmemorandum-book in their hands. Kind regards.
M. Firmin Richard had hardly finished reading this letter when M.Armand Moncharmin entered, carrying one exactly similar. They lookedat each other and burst out laughing.
"They are keeping up the joke," said M. Richard, "but I don't call itfunny."
"What does it all mean?" asked M. Moncharmin. "Do they imagine that,because they have been managers of the Opera, we are going to let themhave a box for an indefinite period?"
"I am not in the mood to let myself be laughed at long," said FirminRichard.
"It's harmless enough," observed Armand Moncharmin. "What is it theyreally want? A box for to-night?"
M. Firmin Richard told his secretary to send Box Five on the grand tierto Mm. Debienne and Poligny, if it was not sold. It was not. It wassent off to them. Debienne lived at the corner of the Rue Scribe andthe Boulevard des Capucines; Poligny, in the Rue Auber. O. Ghost's twoletters had been posted at the Boulevard des Capucines post-office, asMoncharmin remarked after examining the envelopes.
"You see!" said Richard.
They shrugged their shoulders and regretted that two men of that ageshould amuse themselves with such childish tricks.
"They might have been civil, for all that!" said Moncharmin. "Did younotice how they treat us with regard to Carlotta, Sorelli and LittleJammes?"
"Why, my dear fellow, these two are mad with jealousy! To think thatthey went to the expense of, an advertisement in the Revue Theatrale!Have they nothing better to do?"
"By the way," said Moncharmin, "they seem to be greatly interested inthat little Christine Daae!"
"You know as well as I do that she has the reputation of being quitegood," said Richard.
"Reputations are easily obtained," replied Moncharmin. "Haven't I areputation for knowing all about music? And I don't know one key fromanother."
"Don't be afraid: you never had that reputation," Richard declared.
Thereupon he ordered the artists to be shown in, who, for the last twohours, had been walking up and down outside the door behind which fameand fortune--or dismissal--awaited them.
The whole day was spent in discussing, negotiating, signing orcancelling contracts; and the two overworked managers went to bedearly, without so much as casting a glance at Box Five to see whetherM. Debienne and M. Poligny were enjoying the performance.
Next morning, the managers received a card of thanks from the ghost:
DEAR, MR. MANAGER:
Thanks. Charming evening. Daae exquisite. Choruses want waking up.Carlotta a splendid commonplace instrument. Will write you soon forthe 240,000 francs, or 233,424 fr. 70 c., to be correct. Mm. Debienneand Poligny have sent me the 6,575 fr. 30 c. representing the first tendays of my allowance for the current year; their privileges finished onthe evening of the tenth inst.
Kind regards. O. G.
On the other hand, there was a letter from Mm. Debienne and Poligny:
GENTLEMEN:
We are much obliged for your kind thought of us, but you will easilyunderstand that the prospect of again hearing Faust, pleasant though itis to ex-managers of the Opera, can not make us forget that we have noright to occupy Box Five on the grand tier, which is the exclusiveproperty of HIM of whom we spoke to you when we went through thememorandum-book with you for the last time. See Clause 98, finalparagraph.
Accept, gentlemen, etc.
"Oh, those fellows are beginning to annoy me!" shouted Firmin Richard,snatching up the letter.
And that evening Box Five was sold.
The next morning, Mm. Richard and Moncharmin, on reaching their office,found an inspector's report relating to an incident that had happened,the night before, in Box Five. I give the essential part of the report:
I was obliged to call in a municipal guard twice, this evening, toclear Box Five on the grand tier, once at the beginning and once in themiddle of the second act. The occupants, who arrived as the curtainrose on the second act, created a regular scandal by their laughter andtheir ridiculous
observations. There were cries of "Hush!" all aroundthem and the whole house was beginning to protest, when the box-keepercame to fetch me. I entered the box and said what I thought necessary.The people did not seem to me to be in their right mind; and they madestupid remarks. I said that, if the noise was repeated, I should becompelled to clear the box. The moment I left, I heard the laughingagain, with fresh protests from the house. I returned with a municipalguard, who turned them out. They protested, still laughing, sayingthey would not go unless they had their money back. At last, theybecame quiet and I allowed them to enter the box again. The laughterat once recommenced; and, this time, I had them turned out definitely.
"Send for the inspector," said Richard to his secretary, who hadalready read the report and marked it with blue pencil.
M. Remy, the secretary, had foreseen the order and called the inspectorat once.
"Tell us what happened," said Richard bluntly.
The inspector began to splutter and referred to the report.
"Well, but what were those people laughing at?" asked Moncharmin.
"They must have been dining, sir, and seemed more inclined to larkabout than to listen to good music. The moment they entered the box,they came out again and called the box-keeper, who asked them what theywanted. They said, 'Look in the box: there's no one there, is there?''No,' said the woman. 'Well,' said they, 'when we went in, we heard avoice saying THAT THE BOX WAS TAKEN!'"
M. Moncharmin could not help smiling as he looked at M. Richard; but M.Richard did not smile. He himself had done too much in that way in histime not to recognize, in the inspector's story, all the marks of oneof those practical jokes which begin by amusing and end by enraging thevictims. The inspector, to curry favor with M. Moncharmin, who wassmiling, thought it best to give a smile too. A most unfortunatesmile! M. Richard glared at his subordinate, who thenceforth made ithis business to display a face of utter consternation.
"However, when the people arrived," roared Richard, "there was no onein the box, was there?"
"Not a soul, sir, not a soul! Nor in the box on the right, nor in thebox on the left: not a soul, sir, I swear! The box-keeper told it meoften enough, which proves that it was all a joke."
"Oh, you agree, do you?" said Richard. "You agree! It's a joke! Andyou think it funny, no doubt?"
"I think it in very bad taste, sir."
"And what did the box-keeper say?"
"Oh, she just said that it was the Opera ghost. That's all she said!"
And the inspector grinned. But he soon found that he had made amistake in grinning, for the words had no sooner left his mouth than M.Richard, from gloomy, became furious.
"Send for the box-keeper!" he shouted. "Send for her! This minute!This minute! And bring her in to me here! And turn all those peopleout!"
The inspector tried to protest, but Richard closed his mouth with anangry order to hold his tongue. Then, when the wretched man's lipsseemed shut for ever, the manager commanded him to open them once more.
"Who is this 'Opera ghost?'" he snarled.
But the inspector was by this time incapable of speaking a word. Hemanaged to convey, by a despairing gesture, that he knew nothing aboutit, or rather that he did not wish to know.
"Have you ever seen him, have you seen the Opera ghost?"
The inspector, by means of a vigorous shake of the head, denied everhaving seen the ghost in question.
"Very well!" said M. Richard coldly.
The inspector's eyes started out of his head, as though to ask why themanager had uttered that ominous "Very well!"
"Because I'm going to settle the account of any one who has not seenhim!" explained the manager. "As he seems to be everywhere, I can'thave people telling me that they see him nowhere. I like people towork for me when I employ them!"
Having said this, M. Richard paid no attention to the inspector anddiscussed various matters of business with his acting-manager, who hadentered the room meanwhile. The inspector thought he could go and wasgently--oh, so gently!--sidling toward the door, when M. Richard nailedthe man to the floor with a thundering:
"Stay where you are!"
M. Remy had sent for the box-keeper to the Rue de Provence, close tothe Opera, where she was engaged as a porteress. She soon made herappearance.
"What's your name?"
"Mme. Giry. You know me well enough, sir; I'm the mother of littleGiry, little Meg, what!"
This was said in so rough and solemn a tone that, for a moment, M.Richard was impressed. He looked at Mme. Giry, in her faded shawl, herworn shoes, her old taffeta dress and dingy bonnet. It was quiteevident from the manager's attitude, that he either did not know orcould not remember having met Mme. Giry, nor even little Giry, nor even"little Meg!" But Mme. Giry's pride was so great that the celebratedbox-keeper imagined that everybody knew her.
"Never heard of her!" the manager declared. "But that's no reason,Mme. Giry, why I shouldn't ask you what happened last night to make youand the inspector call in a municipal guard."
"I was just wanting to see you, sir, and talk to you about it, so thatyou mightn't have the same unpleasantness as M. Debienne and M.Poligny. They wouldn't listen to me either, at first."
"I'm not asking you about all that. I'm asking what happened lastnight."
Mme. Giry turned purple with indignation. Never had she been spoken tolike that. She rose as though to go, gathering up the folds of herskirt and waving the feathers of her dingy bonnet with dignity, but,changing her mind, she sat down again and said, in a haughty voice:
"I'll tell you what happened. The ghost was annoyed again!"
Thereupon, as M. Richard was on the point of bursting out, M.Moncharmin interfered and conducted the interrogatory, whence itappeared that Mme. Giry thought it quite natural that a voice should beheard to say that a box was taken, when there was nobody in the box.She was unable to explain this phenomenon, which was not new to her,except by the intervention of the ghost. Nobody could see the ghost inhis box, but everybody could hear him. She had often heard him; andthey could believe her, for she always spoke the truth. They could askM. Debienne and M. Poligny, and anybody who knew her; and also M.Isidore Saack, who had had a leg broken by the ghost!
"Indeed!" said Moncharmin, interrupting her. "Did the ghost break poorIsidore Saack's leg?"
Mme. Giry opened her eyes with astonishment at such ignorance.However, she consented to enlighten those two poor innocents. Thething had happened in M. Debienne and M. Poligny's time, also in BoxFive and also during a performance of FAUST. Mme. Giry coughed,cleared her throat--it sounded as though she were preparing to sing thewhole of Gounod's score--and began:
"It was like this, sir. That night, M. Maniera and his lady, thejewelers in the Rue Mogador, were sitting in the front of the box, withtheir great friend, M. Isidore Saack, sitting behind Mme. Maniera.Mephistopheles was singing"--Mme. Giry here burst into songherself--"'Catarina, while you play at sleeping,' and then M. Manieraheard a voice in his right ear (his wife was on his left) saying, 'Ha,ha! Julie's not playing at sleeping!' His wife happened to be calledJulie. So. M. Maniera turns to the right to see who was talking tohim like that. Nobody there! He rubs his ear and asks himself, ifhe's dreaming. Then Mephistopheles went on with his serenade... But,perhaps I'm boring you gentlemen?"
"No, no, go on."
"You are too good, gentlemen," with a smirk. "Well, then,Mephistopheles went on with his serenade"--Mme. Giry, burst into songagain--"'Saint, unclose thy portals holy and accord the bliss, to amortal bending lowly, of a pardon-kiss.' And then M. Maniera againhears the voice in his right ear, saying, this time, 'Ha, ha! Juliewouldn't mind according a kiss to Isidore!' Then he turns round again,but, this time, to the left; and what do you think he sees? Isidore,who had taken his lady's hand and was covering it with kisses throughthe little round place in the glove--like this, gentlemen"--rapturouslykissing the bit of palm left bare in the middle of her thread gloves."Then they had a
lively time between them! Bang! Bang! M. Maniera,who was big and strong, like you, M. Richard, gave two blows to M.Isidore Saack, who was small and weak like M. Moncharmin, saving hispresence. There was a great uproar. People in the house shouted,'That will do! Stop them! He'll kill him!' Then, at last, M. IsidoreSaack managed to run away."
"Then the ghost had not broken his leg?" asked M. Moncharmin, a littlevexed that his figure had made so little impression on Mme. Giry.
"He did break it for him, sir," replied Mme. Giry haughtily. "He brokeit for him on the grand staircase, which he ran down too fast, sir, andit will be long before the poor gentleman will be able to go up itagain!"
"Did the ghost tell you what he said in M. Maniera's right ear?" askedM. Moncharmin, with a gravity which he thought exceedingly humorous.
"No, sir, it was M. Maniera himself. So----"
"But you have spoken to the ghost, my good lady?"
"As I'm speaking to you now, my good sir!" Mme. Giry replied.
"And, when the ghost speaks to you, what does he say?"
"Well, he tells me to bring him a footstool!"
This time, Richard burst out laughing, as did Moncharmin and Remy, thesecretary. Only the inspector, warned by experience, was careful notto laugh, while Mme. Giry ventured to adopt an attitude that waspositively threatening.
"Instead of laughing," she cried indignantly, "you'd do better to do asM. Poligny did, who found out for himself."
"Found out about what?" asked Moncharmin, who had never been so muchamused in his life.
"About the ghost, of course! ... Look here ..."
She suddenly calmed herself, feeling that this was a solemn moment inher life:
"LOOK HERE," she repeated. "They were playing La Juive. M. Polignythought he would watch the performance from the ghost's box... Well,when Leopold cries, 'Let us fly!'--you know--and Eleazer stops them andsays, 'Whither go ye?' ... well, M. Poligny--I was watching him fromthe back of the next box, which was empty--M. Poligny got up and walkedout quite stiffly, like a statue, and before I had time to ask him,'Whither go ye?' like Eleazer, he was down the staircase, but withoutbreaking his leg.
"Still, that doesn't let us know how the Opera ghost came to ask youfor a footstool," insisted M. Moncharmin.
"Well, from that evening, no one tried to take the ghost's private boxfrom him. The manager gave orders that he was to have it at eachperformance. And, whenever he came, he asked me for a footstool."
"Tut, tut! A ghost asking for a footstool! Then this ghost of yoursis 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 whathappens: When he comes to the opera, it's usually in the middle of thefirst act. He gives three little taps on the door of Box Five. Thefirst time I heard those three taps, when I knew there was no one inthe box, you can think how puzzled I was! I opened the door, listened,looked; nobody! And then I heard a voice say, 'Mme. Jules' my poorhusband's name was Jules--'a footstool, please.' Saving your presence,gentlemen, it made me feel all-overish like. But the voice went on,'Don't be frightened, Mme. Jules, I'm the Opera ghost!' And the voicewas so soft and kind that I hardly felt frightened. THE VOICE WASSITTING IN THE CORNER CHAIR, ON THE RIGHT, IN THE FRONT ROW."
"Was there any one in the box on the right of Box Five?" askedMoncharmin.
"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 hewanted 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 twomanagers traveled from Mme. Giry to the inspector, who, standing behindthe box-keeper, was waving his arms to attract their attention. Hetapped his forehead with a distressful forefinger, to convey hisopinion that the widow Jules Giry was most certainly mad, a piece ofpantomime which confirmed M. Richard in his determination to get rid ofan inspector who kept a lunatic in his service. Meanwhile, the worthylady went on about her ghost, now painting his generosity:
"At the end of the performance, he always gives me two francs,sometimes five, sometimes even ten, when he has been many days withoutcoming. Only, since people have begun to annoy him again, he gives menothing at all.
"Excuse me, my good woman," said Moncharmin, while Mme. Giry tossed thefeathers in her dingy hat at this persistent familiarity, "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 findthem with the program, which I always give him. Some evenings, I findflowers in the box, a rose that must have dropped from his lady'sbodice ... for he brings a lady with him sometimes; one day, they lefta fan behind them."
"Oh, the ghost left a fan, did he? And what did you do with it?"
"Well, I brought it back to the box next night."
Here the inspector's voice was raised.
"You've broken the rules; I shall have to fine you, Mme. Giry."
"Hold your tongue, you fool!" muttered M. Firmin Richard.
"You brought back the fan. And then?"
"Well, then, they took it away with them, sir; it was not there at theend of the performance; and in its place they left me a box of Englishsweets, which I'm very fond of. That's one of the ghost's prettythoughts."
"That will do, Mme. Giry. You can go."
When Mme. Giry had bowed herself out, with the dignity that neverdeserted her, the manager told the inspector that they had decided todispense with that old madwoman's services; and, when he had gone inhis turn, they instructed the acting-manager to make up the inspector'saccounts. Left alone, the managers told each other of the idea whichthey both had in mind, which was that they should look into that littlematter of Box Five themselves.