Of course, when I use these words, I do not mean to apply them to La Carlotta, who sings like a squirt; nor to La Sorelli, who owes her success mainly to the coach-builders[28]; nor to little Jammes, who dances like a calf in a field. And I am not speaking of Christine Daae either, though her genius is certain.
I should like to ask you to hear Christine Daae this evening in the part of Siebel[29]; and I will ask you not to dispose of my box today nor on the following days. I was disagreeably surprised to hear, on arriving at the Opera, that my box had been sold, 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, who were always charming to me, had neglected, before leaving, to mention my little fads to you. I have now received a reply from those gentlemen to my letter asking for an explanation, and this reply proves that you know all about my Memorandum-Book and, consequently, that you are treating me with outrageous contempt. If you wish to live in peace, you must not begin by taking away my private box.
Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,
M. Firmin Richard had hardly finished reading this letter when M. Armand Moncharmin entered, carrying one exactly similar. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“They are keeping up the joke,” said M. Richard, “but I don’t call it funny.”
“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 them have a box for an indefinite period?”
“I am not in the mood to let myself be laughed at long,” said Firmin Richard.
“It’s harmless enough,” observed Armand Moncharmin. “What is it they really want? A box for tonight?”
M. Firmin Richard told his secretary to send Box Five on the grand tier to Mm. Debienne and Poligny, if it was not sold. It was not. It was sent off to them.
They shrugged their shoulders and regretted that two men of that age should amuse themselves with such childish tricks.
“By the way,” said Moncharmin, “they seem to be greatly interested in that little Christine Daae!”
The whole day was spent in discussing, negotiating, signing or cancelling contracts; and the two overworked managers went to bed early, without casting a glance at Box Five to see whether M. 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 is wonderful. Choruses want waking up. Carlotta is a splendid commonplace instrument. I will write you soon for the 240,000 francs, or 233,424 fr. 70 c., to be correct. Mm. Debienne and Poligny have sent me the 6,575 fr. 30 c.; their privileges finished.
Kind regards.
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 easily understand that we have no right to occupy Box Five on the grand tier, which is the exclusive property of him of whom we spoke to you when we went through the memorandum-book with you for the last time. See Clause 98, final paragraph.
“Oh, those fellows are beginning to annoy me!” shouted Firmin Richard.
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 [30]twice, this evening, to clear Box Five on the grand tier, once at the beginning and once in the middle of the second act. The occupants, who arrived as the curtain rose on the second act, created a regular scandal by their laughter and their ridiculous observations. There were cries of “Hush!” all around them and the whole house was beginning to protest, when the box-keeper came to 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 made stupid remarks. I said that, if the noise was repeated, I should be compelled to clear the box. The moment I left, I heard the laughing again, with fresh protests from the house. I returned with a municipal guard, who turned them out. They protested, still laughing, saying they would not go unless they had their money back. At last, they became quiet and I allowed them to enter the box again. The laughter at once recommenced; and, this time, I had them turned out definitely”.
“Send for the inspector,” said Richard to his secretary, who had already read the report and marked it with blue pencil.
M. Remy, the secretary called the inspector at 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 seemed more inclined to laugh, sir, 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 they wanted. 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 a voice saying that the box was taken!’”
M. Moncharmin could not help smiling as he looked at M. Richard; but M. Richard did not smile.
“However, when the people arrived,” roared Richard, “there was no one in the box, was there?”
“Not a soul, sir, not a soul! Nor in the box on the right, nor in the box on the left: not a soul, sir, I swear! The box-keeper told it me often enough, which proves that it was all a joke.”
“Oh, you agree, do you?” said Richard. “You agree! It’s a joke! And you 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. M. Richard 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 people out!”
The inspector tried to protest, but Richard closed his mouth with an angry order to hold his tongue. Then, when the wretched man’s lips seemed shut, the manager commanded him to open them once more.
“Who is this ‘Opera ghost?’” he snarled.
But the inspector conveyed, by a despairing gesture, that he knew nothing about it, 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 ever having seen the ghost.
“Very well!” said M. Richard coldly.
The inspector thought he could go and was gently sidling toward the door, when M. Richard ordered:
“Stay where you are!”
M. Remy had sent for the box-keeper. She soon made her appearance.
“What’s your name?”
“Mme. Giry[31]. You know me well enough, sir; I’m the mother of little Giry, little Meg, what!”
M. Richard was impressed. He looked at Mme. Giry, in her faded shawl, her worn shoes, her old dress and dingy bonnet. M. Richard did not know or could not remember having met Mme. Giry, nor even little Giry, nor even “little Meg”. But Mme. Giry’s pride was so great that the celebrated box-keeper imagined that everybody knew her.