Fantôme de l'Opéra. English, Page 21

  Chapter XX In the Cellars of the Opera

  "Your hand high, ready to fire!" repeated Raoul's companion quickly.

  The wall, behind them, having completed the circle which it describedupon itself, closed again; and the two men stood motionless for amoment, holding their breath.

  At last, the Persian decided to make a movement; and Raoul heard himslip on his knees and feel for something in the dark with his gropinghands. Suddenly, the darkness was made visible by a small dark lanternand Raoul instinctively stepped backward as though to escape thescrutiny of a secret enemy. But he soon perceived that the lightbelonged to the Persian, whose movements he was closely observing. Thelittle red disk was turned in every direction and Raoul saw that thefloor, the walls and the ceiling were all formed of planking. It musthave been the ordinary road taken by Erik to reach Christine'sdressing-room and impose upon her innocence. And Raoul, rememberingthe Persian's remark, thought that it had been mysteriously constructedby the ghost himself. Later, he learned that Erik had found, allprepared for him, a secret passage, long known to himself alone andcontrived at the time of the Paris Commune to allow the jailers toconvey their prisoners straight to the dungeons that had beenconstructed for them in the cellars; for the Federates had occupied theopera-house immediately after the eighteenth of March and had made astarting-place right at the top for their Mongolfier balloons, whichcarried their incendiary proclamations to the departments, and a stateprison right at the bottom.

  The Persian went on his knees and put his lantern on the ground. Heseemed to be working at the floor; and suddenly he turned off hislight. Then Raoul heard a faint click and saw a very pale luminoussquare in the floor of the passage. It was as though a window hadopened on the Opera cellars, which were still lit. Raoul no longer sawthe Persian, but he suddenly felt him by his side and heard him whisper:

  "Follow me and do all that I do."

  Raoul turned to the luminous aperture. Then he saw the Persian, whowas still on his knees, hang by his hands from the rim of the opening,with his pistol between his teeth, and slide into the cellar below.

  Curiously enough, the viscount had absolute confidence in the Persian,though he knew nothing about him. His emotion when speaking of the"monster" struck him as sincere; and, if the Persian had cherished anysinister designs against him, he would not have armed him with his ownhands. Besides, Raoul must reach Christine at all costs. He thereforewent on his knees also and hung from the trap with both hands.

  "Let go!" said a voice.

  And he dropped into the arms of the Persian, who told him to lie downflat, closed the trap-door above him and crouched down beside him.Raoul tried to ask a question, but the Persian's hand was on his mouthand he heard a voice which he recognized as that of the commissary ofpolice.

  Raoul and the Persian were completely hidden behind a wooden partition.Near them, a small staircase led to a little room in which thecommissary appeared to be walking up and down, asking questions. Thefaint light was just enough to enable Raoul to distinguish the shape ofthings around him. And he could not restrain a dull cry: there werethree corpses there.

  The first lay on the narrow landing of the little staircase; the twoothers had rolled to the bottom of the staircase. Raoul could havetouched one of the two poor wretches by passing his fingers through thepartition.

  "Silence!" whispered the Persian.

  He too had seen the bodies and he gave one word in explanation:

  "HE!"

  The commissary's voice was now heard more distinctly. He was askingfor information about the system of lighting, which the stage-managersupplied. The commissary therefore must be in the "organ" or itsimmediate neighborhood.

  Contrary to what one might think, especially in connection with anopera-house, the "organ" is not a musical instrument. At that time,electricity was employed only for a very few scenic effects and for thebells. The immense building and the stage itself were still lit bygas; hydrogen was used to regulate and modify the lighting of a scene;and this was done by means of a special apparatus which, because of themultiplicity of its pipes, was known as the "organ." A box beside theprompter's box was reserved for the chief gas-man, who from there gavehis orders to his assistants and saw that they were executed. Mauclairstayed in this box during all the performances.

  But now Mauclair was not in his box and his assistants not in theirplaces.

  "Mauclair! Mauclair!"

  The stage-manager's voice echoed through the cellars. But Mauclair didnot reply.

  I have said that a door opened on a little staircase that led to thesecond cellar. The commissary pushed it, but it resisted.

  "I say," he said to the stage-manager, "I can't open this door: is italways so difficult?"

  The stage-manager forced it open with his shoulder. He saw that, atthe same time, he was pushing a human body and he could not keep backan exclamation, for he recognized the body at once:

  "Mauclair! Poor devil! He is dead!"

  But Mr. Commissary Mifroid, whom nothing surprised, was stooping overthat big body.

  "No," he said, "he is dead-drunk, which is not quite the same thing."

  "It's the first time, if so," said the stage-manager

  "Then some one has given him a narcotic. That is quite possible."

  Mifroid went down a few steps and said:

  "Look!"

  By the light of a little red lantern, at the foot of the stairs, theysaw two other bodies. The stage-manager recognized Mauclair'sassistants. Mifroid went down and listened to their breathing.

  "They are sound asleep," he said. "Very curious business! Some personunknown must have interfered with the gas-man and his staff ... andthat person unknown was obviously working on behalf of the kidnapper... But what a funny idea to kidnap a performer on the stage! ... Sendfor the doctor of the theater, please." And Mifroid repeated, "Curious,decidedly curious business!"

  Then he turned to the little room, addressing the people whom Raoul andthe Persian were unable to see from where they lay.

  "What do you say to all this, gentlemen? You are the only ones whohave not given your views. And yet you must have an opinion of somesort."

  Thereupon, Raoul and the Persian saw the startled faces of the jointmanagers appear above the landing--and they heard Moncharmin's excitedvoice:

  "There are things happening here, Mr. Commissary, which we are unableto explain."

  And the two faces disappeared.

  "Thank you for the information, gentlemen," said Mifroid, with a jeer.

  But the stage-manager, holding his chin in the hollow of his righthand, which is the attitude of profound thought, said:

  "It is not the first time that Mauclair has fallen asleep in thetheater. I remember finding him, one evening, snoring in his littlerecess, with his snuff-box beside him."

  "Is that long ago?" asked M. Mifroid, carefully wiping his eye-glasses.

  "No, not so very long ago ... Wait a bit! ... It was the night ... ofcourse, yes ... It was the night when Carlotta--you know, Mr.Commissary--gave her famous 'co-ack'!"

  "Really? The night when Carlotta gave her famous 'co-ack'?"

  And M. Mifroid, replacing his gleaming glasses on his nose, fixed thestage-manager with a contemplative stare.

  "So Mauclair takes snuff, does he?" he asked carelessly.

  "'Yes, Mr. Commissary ... Look, there is his snuff-box on that littleshelf ... Oh! he's a great snuff-taker!"

  "So am I," said Mifroid and put the snuff-box in his pocket.

  Raoul and the Persian, themselves unobserved, watched the removal ofthe three bodies by a number of scene-shifters, who were followed bythe commissary and all the people with him. Their steps were heard fora few minutes on the stage above. When they were alone the Persianmade a sign to Raoul to stand up. Raoul did so; but, as he did notlift his hand in front of his eyes, ready to fire, the Persian told himto resume that attitude and to continue it, whatever happened.

  "But it tire
s the hand unnecessarily," whispered Raoul. "If I do fire,I shan't be sure of my aim."

  "Then shift your pistol to the other hand," said the Persian.

  "I can't shoot with my left hand."

  Thereupon, the Persian made this queer reply, which was certainly notcalculated to throw light into the young man's flurried brain:

  "It's not a question of shooting with the right hand or the left; it'sa question of holding one of your hands as though you were going topull the trigger of a pistol with your arm bent. As for the pistolitself, when all is said, you can put that in your pocket!" And headded, "Let this be clearly understood, or I will answer for nothing.It is a matter of life and death. And now, silence and follow me!"

  The cellars of the Opera are enormous and they are five in number.Raoul followed the Persian and wondered what he would have done withouthis companion in that extraordinary labyrinth. They went down to thethird cellar; and their progress was still lit by some distant lamp.

  The lower they went, the more precautions the Persian seemed to take.He kept on turning to Raoul to see if he was holding his arm properly,showing him how he himself carried his hand as if always ready to fire,though the pistol was in his pocket.

  Suddenly, a loud voice made them stop. Some one above them shouted:

  "All the door-shutters on the stage! The commissary of police wantsthem!"

  Steps were heard and shadows glided through the darkness. The Persiandrew Raoul behind a set piece. They saw passing before and above themold men bent by age and the past burden of opera-scenery. Some couldhardly drag themselves along; others, from habit, with stooping bodiesand outstretched hands, looked for doors to shut.

  They were the door-shutters, the old, worn-out scene-shifters, on whoma charitable management had taken pity, giving them the job of shuttingdoors above and below the stage. They went about incessantly, from topto bottom of the building, shutting the doors; and they were alsocalled "The draft-expellers," at least at that time, for I have littledoubt that by now they are all dead. Drafts are very bad for thevoice, wherever they may come from.[1]

  The two men might have stumbled over them, waking them up and provokinga request for explanations. For the moment, M. Mifroid's inquiry savedthem from any such unpleasant encounters.

  The Persian and Raoul welcomed this incident, which relieved them ofinconvenient witnesses, for some of those door-shutters, having nothingelse to do or nowhere to lay their heads, stayed at the Opera, fromidleness or necessity, and spent the night there.

  But they were not left to enjoy their solitude for long. Other shadesnow came down by the same way by which the door-shutters had gone up.Each of these shades carried a little lantern and moved it about,above, below and all around, as though looking for something orsomebody.

  "Hang it!" muttered the Persian. "I don't know what they are lookingfor, but they might easily find us ... Let us get away, quick! ...Your hand up, sir, ready to fire! ... Bend your arm ... more ... that'sit! ... Hand at the level of your eye, as though you were fighting aduel and waiting for the word to fire! Oh, leave your pistol in yourpocket. Quick, come along, down-stairs. Level of your eye! Questionof life or death! ... Here, this way, these stairs!" They reached thefifth cellar. "Oh, what a duel, sir, what a duel!"

  Once in the fifth cellar, the Persian drew breath. He seemed to enjoya rather greater sense of security than he had displayed when they bothstopped in the third; but he never altered the attitude of his hand.And Raoul, remembering the Persian's observation--"I know these pistolscan be relied upon"--was more and more astonished, wondering why anyone should be so gratified at being able to rely upon a pistol which hedid not intend to use!

  But the Persian left him no time for reflection. Telling Raoul to staywhere he was, he ran up a few steps of the staircase which they hadjust left and then returned.

  "How stupid of us!" he whispered. "We shall soon have seen the end ofthose men with their lanterns. It is the firemen going theirrounds."[2]

  The two men waited five minutes longer. Then the Persian took Raoul upthe stairs again; but suddenly he stopped him with a gesture.Something moved in the darkness before them.

  "Flat on your stomach!" whispered the Persian.

  The two men lay flat on the floor.

  They were only just in time. A shade, this time carrying no light,just a shade in the shade, passed. It passed close to them, nearenough to touch them.

  They felt the warmth of its cloak upon them. For they coulddistinguish the shade sufficiently to see that it wore a cloak whichshrouded it from head to foot. On its head it had a soft felt hat ...

  It moved away, drawing its feet against the walls and sometimes givinga kick into a corner.

  "Whew!" said the Persian. "We've had a narrow escape; that shade knowsme and has twice taken me to the managers' office."

  "Is it some one belonging to the theater police?" asked Raoul.

  "It's some one much worse than that!" replied the Persian, withoutgiving any further explanation.[3]

  "It's not ... he?"

  "He? ... If he does not come behind us, we shall always see his yelloweyes! That is more or less our safeguard to-night. But he may comefrom behind, stealing up; and we are dead men if we do not keep ourhands as though about to fire, at the level of our eyes, in front!"

  The Persian had hardly finished speaking, when a fantastic face came insight ... a whole fiery face, not only two yellow eyes!

  Yes, a head of fire came toward them, at a man's height, but with nobody attached to it. The face shed fire, looked in the darkness like aflame shaped as a man's face.

  "Oh," said the Persian, between his teeth. "I have never seen thisbefore! ... Pampin was not mad, after all: he had seen it! ... Whatcan that flame be? It is not HE, but he may have sent it! ... Takecare! ... Take care! Your hand at the level of your eyes, in Heaven'sname, at the level of your eyes! ... know most of his tricks ... butnot this one ... Come, let us run ... it is safer. Hand at the levelof your eyes!"

  And they fled down the long passage that opened before them.

  After a few seconds, that seemed to them like long minutes, theystopped.

  "He doesn't often come this way," said the Persian. "This side hasnothing to do with him. This side does not lead to the lake nor to thehouse on the lake ... But perhaps he knows that we are at his heels... although I promised him to leave him alone and never to meddle inhis business again!"

  So saying, he turned his head and Raoul also turned his head; and theyagain saw the head of fire behind their two heads. It had followedthem. And it must have run also, and perhaps faster than they, for itseemed to be nearer to them.

  At the same time, they began to perceive a certain noise of which theycould not guess the nature. They simply noticed that the sound seemedto move and to approach with the fiery face. It was a noise as thoughthousands of nails had been scraped against a blackboard, the perfectlyunendurable noise that is sometimes made by a little stone inside thechalk that grates on the blackboard.

  They continued to retreat, but the fiery face came on, came on, gainingon them. They could see its features clearly now. The eyes were roundand staring, the nose a little crooked and the mouth large, with ahanging lower lip, very like the eyes, nose and lip of the moon, whenthe moon is quite red, bright red.

  How did that red moon manage to glide through the darkness, at a man'sheight, with nothing to support it, at least apparently? And how didit go so fast, so straight ahead, with such staring, staring eyes? Andwhat was that scratching, scraping, grating sound which it brought withit?

  The Persian and Raoul could retreat no farther and flattened themselvesagainst the wall, not knowing what was going to happen because of thatincomprehensible head of fire, and especially now, because of the moreintense, swarming, living, "numerous" sound, for the sound wascertainly made up of hundreds of little sounds that moved in thedarkness, under the fiery face.

  And the fiery face came on ... with it
s noise ... came level with them!...

  And the two companions, flat against their wall, felt their hair standon end with horror, for they now knew what the thousand noises meant.They came in a troop, hustled along in the shadow by innumerable littlehurried waves, swifter than the waves that rush over the sands at hightide, little night-waves foaming under the moon, under the fiery headthat was like a moon. And the little waves passed between their legs,climbing up their legs, irresistibly, and Raoul and the Persian couldno longer restrain their cries of horror, dismay and pain. Nor couldthey continue to hold their hands at the level of their eyes: theirhands went down to their legs to push back the waves, which were fullof little legs and nails and claws and teeth.

  Yes, Raoul and the Persian were ready to faint, like Pampin thefireman. But the head of fire turned round in answer to their cries,and spoke to them:

  "Don't move! Don't move! ... Whatever you do, don't come after me!... I am the rat-catcher! ... Let me pass, with my rats! ..."

  And the head of fire disappeared, vanished in the darkness, while thepassage in front of it lit up, as the result of the change which therat-catcher had made in his dark lantern. Before, so as not to scarethe rats in front of him, he had turned his dark lantern on himself,lighting up his own head; now, to hasten their flight, he lit the darkspace in front of him. And he jumped along, dragging with him thewaves of scratching rats, all the thousand sounds.

  Raoul and the Persian breathed again, though still trembling.

  "I ought to have remembered that Erik talked to me about therat-catcher," said the Persian. "But he never told me that he lookedlike that ... and it's funny that I should never have met him before... Of course, Erik never comes to this part!"

  two page color illustration]

  "Are we very far from the lake, sir?" asked Raoul. "When shall we getthere? ... Take me to the lake, oh, take me to the lake! ... When weare at the lake, we will call out! ... Christine will hear us! ... AndHE will hear us, too! ... And, as you know him, we shall talk to him!""Baby!" said the Persian. "We shall never enter the house on the lakeby the lake! ... I myself have never landed on the other bank ... thebank on which the house stands. ... You have to cross the lake first... and it is well guarded! ... I fear that more than one of thosemen--old scene-shifters, old door-shutters--who have never been seenagain were simply tempted to cross the lake ... It is terrible ... Imyself would have been nearly killed there ... if the monster had notrecognized me in time! ... One piece of advice, sir; never go near thelake... And, above all, shut your ears if you hear the voice singingunder the water, the siren's voice!"

  "But then, what are we here for?" asked Raoul, in a transport of fever,impatience and rage. "If you can do nothing for Christine, at leastlet me die for her!" The Persian tried to calm the young man.

  "We have only one means of saving Christine Daae, believe me, which isto enter the house unperceived by the monster."

  "And is there any hope of that, sir?"

  "Ah, if I had not that hope, I would not have come to fetch you!"

  "And how can one enter the house on the lake without crossing the lake?"

  "From the third cellar, from which we were so unluckily driven away.We will go back there now ... I will tell you," said the Persian, witha sudden change in his voice, "I will tell you the exact place, sir: itis between a set piece and a discarded scene from ROI DE LAHORE,exactly at the spot where Joseph Buquet died... Come, sir, takecourage and follow me! And hold your hand at the level of your eyes!... But where are we?"

  The Persian lit his lamp again and flung its rays down two enormouscorridors that crossed each other at right angles.

  "We must be," he said, "in the part used more particularly for thewaterworks. I see no fire coming from the furnaces."

  He went in front of Raoul, seeking his road, stopping abruptly when hewas afraid of meeting some waterman. Then they had to protectthemselves against the glow of a sort of underground forge, which themen were extinguishing, and at which Raoul recognized the demons whomChristine had seen at the time of her first captivity.

  In this way, they gradually arrived beneath the huge cellars below thestage. They must at this time have been at the very bottom of the"tub" and at an extremely great depth, when we remember that the earthwas dug out at fifty feet below the water that lay under the whole ofthat part of Paris.[4]

  The Persian touched a partition-wall and said:

  "If I am not mistaken, this is a wall that might easily belong to thehouse on the lake."

  He was striking a partition-wall of the "tub," and perhaps it would beas well for the reader to know how the bottom and the partition-wallsof the tub were built. In order to prevent the water surrounding thebuilding-operations from remaining in immediate contact with the wallssupporting the whole of the theatrical machinery, the architect wasobliged to build a double case in every direction. The work ofconstructing this double case took a whole year. It was the wall ofthe first inner case that the Persian struck when speaking to Raoul ofthe house on the lake. To any one understanding the architecture ofthe edifice, the Persian's action would seem to indicate that Erik'smysterious house had been built in the double case, formed of a thickwall constructed as an embankment or dam, then of a brick wall, atremendous layer of cement and another wall several yards in thickness.

  At the Persian's words, Raoul flung himself against the wall andlistened eagerly. But he heard nothing ... nothing ... except distantsteps sounding on the floor of the upper portions of the theater.

  The Persian darkened his lantern again.

  "Look out!" he said. "Keep your hand up! And silence! For we shalltry another way of getting in."

  And he led him to the little staircase by which they had come downlately.

  They went up, stopping at each step, peering into the darkness and thesilence, till they came to the third cellar. Here the Persian motionedto Raoul to go on his knees; and, in this way, crawling on both kneesand one hand--for the other hand was held in the positionindicated--they reached the end wall.

  Against this wall stood a large discarded scene from the ROI DE LAHORE.Close to this scene was a set piece. Between the scene and the setpiece there was just room for a body ... for a body which one day wasfound hanging there. The body of Joseph Buquet.

  The Persian, still kneeling, stopped and listened. For a moment, heseemed to hesitate and looked at Raoul; then he turned his eyes upward,toward the second cellar, which sent down the faint glimmer of alantern, through a cranny between two boards. This glimmer seemed totrouble the Persian.

  At last, he tossed his head and made up his mind to act. He slippedbetween the set piece and the scene from the ROI DE LAHORE, with Raoulclose upon his heels. With his free hand, the Persian felt the wall.Raoul saw him bear heavily upon the wall, just as he had pressedagainst the wall in Christine's dressing-room. Then a stone gave way,leaving a hole in the wall.

  This time, the Persian took his pistol from his pocket and made a signto Raoul to do as he did. He cocked the pistol.

  And, resolutely, still on his knees, he wiggled through the hole in thewall. Raoul, who had wished to pass first, had to be content to followhim.

  The hole was very narrow. The Persian stopped almost at once. Raoulheard him feeling the stones around him. Then the Persian took out hisdark lantern again, stooped forward, examined something beneath him andimmediately extinguished his lantern. Raoul heard him say, in awhisper:

  "We shall have to drop a few yards, without making a noise; take offyour boots."

  The Persian handed his own shoes to Raoul.

  "Put them outside the wall," he said. "We shall find them there whenwe leave."[5]

  He crawled a little farther on his knees, then turned right round andsaid:

  "I am going to hang by my hands from the edge of the stone and letmyself drop INTO HIS HOUSE. You must do exactly the same. Do not beafraid. I will catch you in my arms."

  Raoul soon heard a dull sound,
evidently produced by the fall of thePersian, and then dropped down.

  He felt himself clasped in the Persian's arms.

  "Hush!" said the Persian.

  And they stood motionless, listening.

  The darkness was thick around them, the silence heavy and terrible.

  Then the Persian began to make play with the dark lantern again,turning the rays over their heads, looking for the hole through whichthey had come, and failing to find it:

  "Oh!" he said. "The stone has closed of itself!"

  And the light of the lantern swept down the wall and over the floor.

  The Persian stooped and picked up something, a sort of cord, which heexamined for a second and flung away with horror.

  "The Punjab lasso!" he muttered.

  "What is it?" asked Raoul.

  The Persian shivered. "It might very well be the rope by which the manwas hanged, and which was looked for so long."

  And, suddenly seized with fresh anxiety, he moved the little red diskof his lantern over the walls. In this way, he lit up a curious thing:the trunk of a tree, which seemed still quite alive, with its leaves;and the branches of that tree ran right up the walls and disappeared inthe ceiling.

  Because of the smallness of the luminous disk, it was difficult atfirst to make out the appearance of things: they saw a corner of abranch ... and a leaf ... and another leaf ... and, next to it, nothingat all, nothing but the ray of light that seemed to reflect itself ...Raoul passed his hand over that nothing, over that reflection.

  "Hullo!" he said. "The wall is a looking-glass!"

  "Yes, a looking-glass!" said the Persian, in a tone of deep emotion.And, passing the hand that held the pistol over his moist forehead, headded, "We have dropped into the torture-chamber!"

  What the Persian knew of this torture-chamber and what there befell himand his companion shall be told in his own words, as set down in amanuscript which he left behind him, and which I copy VERBATIM.