Fantôme de l'Opéra. English, Page 23

  Chapter XXI Interesting and Instructive Vicissitudes of a Persian inthe Cellars of the Opera

  THE PERSIAN'S NARRATIVE

  It was the first time that I entered the house on the lake. I hadoften begged the "trap-door lover," as we used to call Erik in mycountry, to open its mysterious doors to me. He always refused. Imade very many attempts, but in vain, to obtain admittance. Watch himas I might, after I first learned that he had taken up his permanentabode at the Opera, the darkness was always too thick to enable me tosee how he worked the door in the wall on the lake. One day, when Ithought myself alone, I stepped into the boat and rowed toward thatpart of the wall through which I had seen Erik disappear. It was thenthat I came into contact with the siren who guarded the approach andwhose charm was very nearly fatal to me.

  I had no sooner put off from the bank than the silence amid which Ifloated on the water was disturbed by a sort of whispered singing thathovered all around me. It was half breath, half music; it rose softlyfrom the waters of the lake; and I was surrounded by it through I knewnot what artifice. It followed me, moved with me and was so soft thatit did not alarm me. On the contrary, in my longing to approach thesource of that sweet and enticing harmony, I leaned out of my littleboat over the water, for there was no doubt in my mind that the singingcame from the water itself. By this time, I was alone in the boat inthe middle of the lake; the voice--for it was now distinctly avoice--was beside me, on the water. I leaned over, leaned stillfarther. The lake was perfectly calm, and a moonbeam that passedthrough the air hole in the Rue Scribe showed me absolutely nothing onits surface, which was smooth and black as ink. I shook my ears to getrid of a possible humming; but I soon had to accept the fact that therewas no humming in the ears so harmonious as the singing whisper thatfollowed and now attracted me.

  Had I been inclined to superstition, I should have certainly thoughtthat I had to do with some siren whose business it was to confound thetraveler who should venture on the waters of the house on the lake.Fortunately, I come from a country where we are too fond of fantasticthings not to know them through and through; and I had no doubt butthat I was face to face with some new invention of Erik's. But thisinvention was so perfect that, as I leaned out of the boat, I wasimpelled less by a desire to discover its trick than to enjoy itscharm; and I leaned out, leaned out until I almost overturned the boat.

  Suddenly, two monstrous arms issued from the bosom of the waters andseized me by the neck, dragging me down to the depths with irresistibleforce. I should certainly have been lost, if I had not had time togive a cry by which Erik knew me. For it was he; and, instead ofdrowning me, as was certainly his first intention, he swam with me andlaid me gently on the bank:

  "How imprudent you are!" he said, as he stood before me, dripping withwater. "Why try to enter my house? I never invited you! I don't wantyou there, nor anybody! Did you save my life only to make itunbearable to me? However great the service you rendered him, Erik mayend by forgetting it; and you know that nothing can restrain Erik, noteven Erik himself."

  He spoke, but I had now no other wish than to know what I alreadycalled the trick of the siren. He satisfied my curiosity, for Erik,who is a real monster--I have seen him at work in Persia, alas--isalso, in certain respects, a regular child, vain and self-conceited,and there is nothing he loves so much, after astonishing people, as toprove all the really miraculous ingenuity of his mind.

  He laughed and showed me a long reed.

  "It's the silliest trick you ever saw," he said, "but it's very usefulfor breathing and singing in the water. I learned it from the Tonkinpirates, who are able to remain hidden for hours in the beds of therivers."[1]

  I spoke to him severely.

  "It's a trick that nearly killed me!" I said. "And it may have beenfatal to others! You know what you promised me, Erik? No moremurders!"

  "Have I really committed murders?" he asked, putting on his mostamiable air.

  "Wretched man!" I cried. "Have you forgotten the rosy hours ofMazenderan?"

  "Yes," he replied, in a sadder tone, "I prefer to forget them. I usedto make the little sultana laugh, though!"

  "All that belongs to the past," I declared; "but there is the present... and you are responsible to me for the present, because, if I hadwished, there would have been none at all for you. Remember that,Erik: I saved your life!"

  And I took advantage of the turn of conversation to speak to him ofsomething that had long been on my mind:

  "Erik," I asked, "Erik, swear that ..."

  "What?" he retorted. "You know I never keep my oaths. Oaths are madeto catch gulls with."

  "Tell me ... you can tell me, at any rate..."

  "Well?"

  "Well, the chandelier ... the chandelier, Erik? ..."

  "What about the chandelier?"

  "You know what I mean."

  "Oh," he sniggered, "I don't mind telling you about the chandelier!... IT WASN'T I! ... The chandelier was very old and worn."

  When Erik laughed, he was more terrible than ever. He jumped into theboat, chuckling so horribly that I could not help trembling.

  "Very old and worn, my dear daroga![2] Very old and worn, thechandelier! ... It fell of itself! ... It came down with a smash! ...And now, daroga, take my advice and go and dry yourself, or you'llcatch a cold in the head! ... And never get into my boat again ...And, whatever you do, don't try to enter my house: I'm not alwaysthere ... daroga! And I should be sorry to have to dedicate my RequiemMass to you!"

  So saying, swinging to and fro, like a monkey, and still chuckling, hepushed off and soon disappeared in the darkness of the lake.

  From that day, I gave up all thought of penetrating into his house bythe lake. That entrance was obviously too well guarded, especiallysince he had learned that I knew about it. But I felt that there mustbe another entrance, for I had often seen Erik disappear in the thirdcellar, when I was watching him, though I could not imagine how.

  Ever since I had discovered Erik installed in the Opera, I lived in aperpetual terror of his horrible fancies, not in so far as I wasconcerned, but I dreaded everything for others.[3]

  And whenever some accident, some fatal event happened, I always thoughtto myself, "I should not be surprised if that were Erik," even asothers used to say, "It's the ghost!" How often have I not heardpeople utter that phrase with a smile! Poor devils! If they had knownthat the ghost existed in the flesh, I swear they would not havelaughed!

  Although Erik announced to me very solemnly that he had changed andthat he had become the most virtuous of men SINCE HE WAS LOVED FORHIMSELF--a sentence that, at first, perplexed me most terribly--I couldnot help shuddering when I thought of the monster. His horrible,unparalleled and repulsive ugliness put him without the pale ofhumanity; and it often seemed to me that, for this reason, he no longerbelieved that he had any duty toward the human race. The way in whichhe spoke of his love affairs only increased my alarm, for I foresaw thecause of fresh and more hideous tragedies in this event to which healluded so boastfully.

  On the other hand, I soon discovered the curious moral trafficestablished between the monster and Christine Daae. Hiding in thelumber-room next to the young prima donna's dressing-room, I listenedto wonderful musical displays that evidently flung Christine intomarvelous ecstasy; but, all the same, I would never have thought thatErik's voice--which was loud as thunder or soft as angels' voices, atwill--could have made her forget his ugliness. I understood all when Ilearned that Christine had not yet seen him! I had occasion to go tothe dressing-room and, remembering the lessons he had once given me, Ihad no difficulty in discovering the trick that made the wall with themirror swing round and I ascertained the means of hollow bricks and soon--by which he made his voice carry to Christine as though she heardit close beside her. In this way also I discovered the road that ledto the well and the dungeon--the Communists' dungeon--and also thetrap-door that enabled Erik to go straight to the cellars below thestage.

  A
few days later, what was not my amazement to learn by my own eyes andears that Erik and Christine Daae saw each other and to catch themonster stooping over the little well, in the Communists' road andsprinkling the forehead of Christine Daae, who had fainted. A whitehorse, the horse out of the PROFETA, which had disappeared from thestables under the Opera, was standing quietly beside them. I showedmyself. It was terrible. I saw sparks fly from those yellow eyes and,before I had time to say a word, I received a blow on the head thatstunned me.

  When I came to myself, Erik, Christine and the white horse haddisappeared. I felt sure that the poor girl was a prisoner in thehouse on the lake. Without hesitation, I resolved to return to thebank, notwithstanding the attendant danger. For twenty-four hours, Ilay in wait for the monster to appear; for I felt that he must go out,driven by the need of obtaining provisions. And, in this connection, Imay say, that, when he went out in the streets or ventured to showhimself in public, he wore a pasteboard nose, with a mustache attachedto it, instead of his own horrible hole of a nose. This did not quitetake away his corpse-like air, but it made him almost, I say almost,endurable to look at.

  I therefore watched on the bank of the lake and, weary of long waiting,was beginning to think that he had gone through the other door, thedoor in the third cellar, when I heard a slight splashing in the dark,I saw the two yellow eyes shining like candles and soon the boattouched shore. Erik jumped out and walked up to me:

  "You've been here for twenty-four hours," he said, "and you're annoyingme. I tell you, all this will end very badly. And you will havebrought it upon yourself; for I have been extraordinarily patient withyou. You think you are following me, you great booby, whereas it's Iwho am following you; and I know all that you know about me, here. Ispared you yesterday, in MY COMMUNISTS' ROAD; but I warn you,seriously, don't let me catch you there again! Upon my word, you don'tseem able to take a hint!"

  He was so furious that I did not think, for the moment, of interruptinghim. After puffing and blowing like a walrus, he put his horriblethought into words:

  "Yes, you must learn, once and for all--once and for all, I say--totake a hint! I tell you that, with your recklessness--for you havealready been twice arrested by the shade in the felt hat, who did notknow what you were doing in the cellars and took you to the managers,who looked upon you as an eccentric Persian interested in stagemechanism and life behind the scenes: I know all about it, I wasthere, in the office; you know I am everywhere--well, I tell you that,with your recklessness, they will end by wondering what you are afterhere ... and they will end by knowing that you are after Erik ... andthen they will be after Erik themselves and they will discover thehouse on the lake ... If they do, it will be a bad lookout for you,old chap, a bad lookout! ... I won't answer for anything."

  Again he puffed and blew like a walrus.

  "I won't answer for anything! ... If Erik's secrets cease to be Erik'ssecrets, IT WILL BE A BAD LOOKOUT FOR A GOODLY NUMBER OF THE HUMANRACE! That's all I have to tell you, and unless you are a great booby,it ought to be enough for you ... except that you don't know how totake a hint."

  He had sat down on the stern of his boat and was kicking his heelsagainst the planks, waiting to hear what I had to answer. I simplysaid:

  "It's not Erik that I'm after here!"

  "Who then?"

  "You know as well as I do: it's Christine Daae," I answered.

  He retorted: "I have every right to see her in my own house. I amloved for my own sake."

  "That's not true," I said. "You have carried her off and are keepingher locked up."

  "Listen," he said. "Will you promise never to meddle with my affairsagain, if I prove to you that I am loved for my own sake?"

  "Yes, I promise you," I replied, without hesitation, for I feltconvinced that for such a monster the proof was impossible.

  "Well, then, it's quite simple ... Christine Daae shall leave this asshe pleases and come back again! ... Yes, come back again, because shewishes ... come back of herself, because she loves me for myself! ..."

  "Oh, I doubt if she will come back! ... But it is your duty to let hergo." "My duty, you great booby! ... It is my wish ... my wish to lether go; and she will come back again ... for she loves me! ... All thiswill end in a marriage ... a marriage at the Madeleine, you greatbooby! Do you believe me now? When I tell you that my nuptial mass iswritten ... wait till you hear the KYRIE..."

  He beat time with his heels on the planks of the boat and sang:

  "KYRIE! ... KYRIE! ... KYRIE ELEISON! ... Wait till you hear, wait tillyou hear that mass."

  "Look here," I said. "I shall believe you if I see Christine Daae comeout of the house on the lake and go back to it of her own accord."

  "And you won't meddle any more in my affairs?"

  "No."

  "Very well, you shall see that to-night. Come to the masked ball.Christine and I will go and have a look round. Then you can hide inthe lumber-room and you shall see Christine, who will have gone to herdressing-room, delighted to come back by the Communists' road... And,now, be off, for I must go and do some shopping!"

  To my intense astonishment, things happened as he had announced.Christine Daae left the house on the lake and returned to it severaltimes, without, apparently, being forced to do so. It was verydifficult for me to clear my mind of Erik. However, I resolved to beextremely prudent, and did not make the mistake of returning to theshore of the lake, or of going by the Communists' road. But the ideaof the secret entrance in the third cellar haunted me, and I repeatedlywent and waited for hours behind a scene from the Roi de Lahore, whichhad been left there for some reason or other. At last my patience wasrewarded. One day, I saw the monster come toward me, on his knees. Iwas certain that he could not see me. He passed between the scenebehind which I stood and a set piece, went to the wall and pressed on aspring that moved a stone and afforded him an ingress. He passedthrough this, and the stone closed behind him.

  I waited for at least thirty minutes and then pressed the spring in myturn. Everything happened as with Erik. But I was careful not to gothrough the hole myself, for I knew that Erik was inside. On the otherhand, the idea that I might be caught by Erik suddenly made me think ofthe death of Joseph Buquet. I did not wish to jeopardize theadvantages of so great a discovery which might be useful to manypeople, "to a goodly number of the human race," in Erik's words; and Ileft the cellars of the Opera after carefully replacing the stone.

  I continued to be greatly interested in the relations between Erik andChristine Daae, not from any morbid curiosity, but because of theterrible thought which obsessed my mind that Erik was capable ofanything, if he once discovered that he was not loved for his own sake,as he imagined. I continued to wander, very cautiously, about theOpera and soon learned the truth about the monster's dreary love-affair.

  He filled Christine's mind, through the terror with which he inspiredher, but the dear child's heart belonged wholly to the Vicomte Raoul deChagny. While they played about, like an innocent engaged couple, onthe upper floors of the Opera, to avoid the monster, they littlesuspected that some one was watching over them. I was prepared to doanything: to kill the monster, if necessary, and explain to the policeafterward. But Erik did not show himself; and I felt none the morecomfortable for that.

  I must explain my whole plan. I thought that the monster, being drivenfrom his house by jealousy, would thus enable me to enter it, withoutdanger, through the passage in the third cellar. It was important, foreverybody's sake, that I should know exactly what was inside. One day,tired of waiting for an opportunity, I moved the stone and at onceheard an astounding music: the monster was working at his Don JuanTriumphant, with every door in his house wide open. I knew that thiswas the work of his life. I was careful not to stir and remainedprudently in my dark hole.

  He stopped playing, for a moment, and began walking about his place,like a madman. And he said aloud, at the top of his voice:

  "It must be finished FIRS
T! Quite finished!"

  This speech was not calculated to reassure me and, when the musicrecommenced, I closed the stone very softly.

  On the day of the abduction of Christine Daae, I did not come to thetheater until rather late in the evening, trembling lest I should hearbad news. I had spent a horrible day, for, after reading in a morningpaper the announcement of a forthcoming marriage between Christine andthe Vicomte de Chagny, I wondered whether, after all, I should not dobetter to denounce the monster. But reason returned to me, and I waspersuaded that this action could only precipitate a possiblecatastrophe.

  When, my cab set me down before the Opera, I was really almostastonished to see it still standing! But I am something of a fatalist,like all good Orientals, and I entered ready, for anything.

  Christine Daae's abduction in the Prison Act, which naturally surprisedeverybody, found me prepared. I was quite certain that she had beenjuggled away by Erik, that prince of conjurers. And I thoughtpositively that this was the end of Christine and perhaps of everybody,so much so that I thought of advising all these people who were stayingon at the theater to make good their escape. I felt, however, thatthey would be sure to look upon me as mad and I refrained.

  On the other hand, I resolved to act without further delay, as far as Iwas concerned. The chances were in my favor that Erik, at that moment,was thinking only of his captive. This was the moment to enter hishouse through the third cellar; and I resolved to take with me thatpoor little desperate viscount, who, at the first suggestion, accepted,with an amount of confidence in myself that touched me profoundly. Ihad sent my servant for my pistols. I gave one to the viscount andadvised him to hold himself ready to fire, for, after all, Erik mightbe waiting for us behind the wall. We were to go by the Communists'road and through the trap-door.

  Seeing my pistols, the little viscount asked me if we were going tofight a duel. I said:

  "Yes; and what a duel!" But, of course, I had no time to explainanything to him. The little viscount is a brave fellow, but he knewhardly anything about his adversary; and it was so much the better. Mygreat fear was that he was already somewhere near us, preparing thePunjab lasso. No one knows better than he how to throw the Punjablasso, for he is the king of stranglers even as he is the prince ofconjurors. When he had finished making the little sultana laugh, atthe time of the "rosy hours of Mazenderan," she herself used to ask himto amuse her by giving her a thrill. It was then that he introducedthe sport of the Punjab lasso.

  He had lived in India and acquired an incredible skill in the art ofstrangulation. He would make them lock him into a courtyard to whichthey brought a warrior--usually, a man condemned to death--armed with along pike and broadsword. Erik had only his lasso; and it was alwaysjust when the warrior thought that he was going to fell Erik with atremendous blow that we heard the lasso whistle through the air. Witha turn of the wrist, Erik tightened the noose round his adversary'sneck and, in this fashion, dragged him before the little sultana andher women, who sat looking from a window and applauding. The littlesultana herself learned to wield the Punjab lasso and killed several ofher women and even of the friends who visited her. But I prefer todrop this terrible subject of the rosy hours of Mazenderan. I havementioned it only to explain why, on arriving with the Vicomte deChagny in the cellars of the Opera, I was bound to protect my companionagainst the ever-threatening danger of death by strangling. My pistolscould serve no purpose, for Erik was not likely to show himself; butErik could always strangle us. I had no time to explain all this tothe viscount; besides, there was nothing to be gained by complicatingthe position. I simply told M. de Chagny to keep his hand at the levelof his eyes, with the arm bent, as though waiting for the command tofire. With his victim in this attitude, it is impossible even for themost expert strangler to throw the lasso with advantage. It catchesyou not only round the neck, but also round the arm or hand. Thisenables you easily to unloose the lasso, which then becomes harmless.

  After avoiding the commissary of police, a number of door-shutters andthe firemen, after meeting the rat-catcher and passing the man in thefelt hat unperceived, the viscount and I arrived without obstacle inthe third cellar, between the set piece and the scene from the Roi deLahore. I worked the stone, and we jumped into the house which Erikhad built himself in the double case of the foundation-walls of theOpera. And this was the easiest thing in the world for him to do,because Erik was one of the chief contractors under Philippe Garnier,the architect of the Opera, and continued to work by himself when theworks were officially suspended, during the war, the siege of Paris andthe Commune.

  I knew my Erik too well to feel at all comfortable on jumping into hishouse. I knew what he had made of a certain palace at Mazenderan.From being the most honest building conceivable, he soon turned it intoa house of the very devil, where you could not utter a word but it wasoverheard or repeated by an echo. With his trap-doors the monster wasresponsible for endless tragedies of all kinds. He hit uponastonishing inventions. Of these, the most curious, horrible anddangerous was the so-called torture-chamber. Except in special cases,when the little sultana amused herself by inflicting suffering uponsome unoffending citizen, no one was let into it but wretches condemnedto death. And, even then, when these had "had enough," they werealways at liberty to put an end to themselves with a Punjab lasso orbowstring, left for their use at the foot of an iron tree.

  My alarm, therefore, was great when I saw that the room into which M.le Vicomte de Chagny and I had dropped was an exact copy of thetorture-chamber of the rosy hours of Mazenderan. At our feet, I foundthe Punjab lasso which I had been dreading all the evening. I wasconvinced that this rope had already done duty for Joseph Buquet, who,like myself, must have caught Erik one evening working the stone in thethird cellar. He probably tried it in his turn, fell into thetorture-chamber and only left it hanged. I can well imagine Erikdragging the body, in order to get rid of it, to the scene from the Roide Lahore, and hanging it there as an example, or to increase thesuperstitious terror that was to help him in guarding the approaches tohis lair! Then, upon reflection, Erik went back to fetch the Punjablasso, which is very curiously made out of catgut, and which might haveset an examining magistrate thinking. This explains the disappearanceof the rope.

  And now I discovered the lasso, at our feet, in the torture-chamber!... I am no coward, but a cold sweat covered my forehead as I movedthe little red disk of my lantern over the walls.

  M. de Chagny noticed it and asked:

  "What is the matter, sir?"

  I made him a violent sign to be silent.