Chapter XVI Mme. Giry's Astounding Revelations as to Her
Personal Relations with the Opera Ghost
Before following the commissary into the manager's office I
must describe certain extraordinary occurrences that took place
in that office which Remy and Mercier had vainly tried to enter
and into which MM. Richard and Moncharmin had locked themselves
with an object which the reader does not yet know, but which it
is my duty, as an historian, to reveal without further postponement.
I have had occasion to say that the managers' mood had undergone
a disagreeable change for some time past and to convey the fact
that this change was due not only to the fall of the chandelier
on the famous night of the gala performance.
The reader must know that the ghost had calmly been paid his first
twenty thousand francs. Oh, there had been wailing and gnashing
of teeth, indeed! And yet the thing had happened as simply as could be.
One morning, the managers found on their table an envelope
addressed to "Monsieur O. G. (private)" and accompanied by a note
from O. G. himself:
The time has come to carry out the clause in the memorandum-book.
Please put twenty notes of a thousand francs each into this envelope,
seal it with your own seal and hand it to Mme. Giry, who will do
what is necessary.
The managers did not hesitate; without wasting time in asking
how these confounded communications came to be delivered in an
office which they were careful to keep locked, they seized this
opportunity of laying hands, on the mysterious blackmailer.
And, after telling the whole story, under the promise of secrecy,
to Gabriel and Mercier, they put the twenty thousand francs into the
envelope and without asking for explanations, handed it to Mme. Giry,
who had been reinstated in her functions. The box-keeper displayed
no astonishment. I need hardly say that she was well watched.
She went straight to the ghost's box and placed the precious envelope
on the little shelf attached to the ledge. The two managers,
as well as Gabriel and Mercier, were hidden in such a way that
they did not lose sight of the envelope for a second during the
performance and even afterward, for, as the envelope had not moved,
those who watched it did not move either; and Mme. Giry went
away while the managers, Gabriel and Mercier were still there.
At last, they became tired of waiting and opened the envelope,
after ascertaining that the seals had not been broken.
At first sight, Richard and Moncharmin thought that the notes were
still there; but soon they perceived that they were not the same.
The twenty real notes were gone and had been replaced by twenty notes,
of the "Bank of St. Farce"![2]
[2] Flash notes drawn on the "Bank of St. Farce" in France
correspond with those drawn on the "Bank of Engraving" in England.--
Translator's Note.
The managers' rage and fright were unmistakable. Moncharmin wanted
to send for the commissary of police, but Richard objected.
He no doubt had a plan, for he said:
"Don't let us make ourselves ridiculous! All Paris would laugh at us.
O. G. has won the first game: we will win the second."
He was thinking of the next month's allowance.
Nevertheless, they had been so absolutely tricked that they were
bound to suffer a certain dejection. And, upon my word, it was not
difficult to understand. We must not forget that the managers had
an idea at the back of their minds, all the time, that this strange
incident might be an unpleasant practical joke on the part of their
predecessors and that it would not do to divulge it prematurely.
On the other hand, Moncharmin was sometimes troubled with a suspicion
of Richard himself, who occasionally took fanciful whims into
his head. And so they were content to await events, while keeping
an eye on Mother Giry. Richard would not have her spoken to.
"If she is a confederate," he said, "the notes are gone long ago.
But, in my opinion, she is merely an idiot."
"She's not the only idiot in this business," said Moncharmin pensively.
"Well, who could have thought it?" moaned Richard. "But don't
be afraid...next time, I shall have taken my precautions."
The next time fell on the same day that beheld the disappearance
of Christine Daae. In the morning, a note from the ghost reminded them
that the money was due. It read:
Do just as you did last time. It went very well. Put the twenty
thousand in the envelope and hand it to our excellent Mme. Giry.
And the note was accompanied by the usual envelope. They had only
to insert the notes.
This was done about half an hour before the curtain rose on the
first act of Faust. Richard showed the envelope to Moncharmin.
Then he counted the twenty thousand-franc notes in front of him
and put the notes into the envelope, but without closing it.
"And now," he said, "let's have Mother Giry in."
The old woman was sent for. She entered with a sweeping courtesy.
She still wore her black taffeta dress, the color of which was rapidly
turning to rust and lilac, to say nothing of the dingy bonnet.
She seemed in a good temper. She at once said:
"Good evening, gentlemen! It's for the envelope, I suppose?"
"Yes, Mme. Giry," said Richard, most amiably. "For the envelope
... and something else besides."
"At your service, M. Richard, at your service. And what is
the something else, please?"
"First of all, Mme. Giry, I have a little question to put to you."
"By all means, M. Richard: Mme. Giry is here to answer you."
"Are you still on good terms with the ghost?"
"Couldn't be better, sir; couldn't be better."
"Ah, we are delighted....Look here, Mme. Giry," said Richard,
in the tone of making an important confidence. "We may just as well
tell you, among ourselves...you're no fool!"
"Why, sir," exclaimed the box-keeper, stopping the pleasant nodding
of the black feathers in her dingy bonnet, "I assure you no one has
ever doubted that!"
"We are quite agreed and we shall soon understand one another.
The story of the ghost is all humbug, isn't it?...Well,
still between ourselves,...it has lasted long enough."
Mme. Giry looked at the managers as though they were talking Chinese.
She walked up to Richard's table and asked, rather anxiously:
"What do you mean? I don't understand."
"Oh, you, understand quite well. In any case, you've got to understand.
... And, first of all, tell us his name."
"Whose name?"
"The name of the man whose accomplice you are, Mme. Giry!"
"I am the ghost's accomplice? I?...His accomplice in what, pray?"
"You do all he wants."
"Oh! He's not very troublesome, you know."
"And does he still tip you?"
"I mustn't complain."
"How much does he give you for bringing him that envelope?"
"Ten francs."
MME. GIRY'
"You poor thing! That's not much, is it?
"Why?"
"I'll tell you that presently, Mme. Giry. Just now we should like
to know for what extraordinary reason you have given yourself body
and soul, to this ghost...Mme. Giry's friendship and devotion
are not to be bought for five francs or ten francs."
"That's true enough....And I can tell you the reason, sir.
There's no disgrace about it... on the contrary."
"We're quite sure of that, Mme. Giry!"
"Well, it's like this...only the ghost doesn't like me to talk
about his business."
"Indeed?" sneered Richard.
"But this is a matter that concerns myself alone....Well,
it was in Box Five one evening, I found a letter addressed to myself,
a sort of note written in red ink. I needn't read the letter to
you sir; I know it by heart, and I shall never forget it if I live
to be a hundred!"
And Mme. Giry, drawing herself up, recited the letter with
touching eloquence:
MADAM:
1825. Mlle. Menetrier, leader of the ballet, became Marquise
de Cussy.
1832. Mlle. Marie Taglioni, a dancer, became Comtesse Gilbert
des Voisins.
1846. La Sota, a dancer, married a brother of the King of Spain.
1847. Lola Montes, a dancer, became the morganatic wife of King
Louis of Bavaria and was created Countess of Landsfeld.
1848. Mlle. Maria, a dancer, became Baronne d'Herneville.
1870. Theresa Hessier, a dancer, married Dom Fernando, brother to
the King of Portugal.
Richard and Moncharmin listened to the old woman, who, as she
proceeded with the enumeration of these glorious nuptials,
swelled out, took courage and, at last, in a voice bursting
with pride, flung out the last sentence of the prophetic letter:
1885. Meg Giry, Empress!
Exhausted by this supreme effort, the box-keeper fell into
a chair, saying:
"Gentlemen, the letter was signed, ‘Opera Ghost.' I had heard much
of the ghost, but only half believed in him. From the day when he
declared that my little Meg, the flesh of my flesh, the fruit
of my womb, would be empress, I believed in him altogether."
And really it was not necessary to make a long study of Mme. Giry's
excited features to understand what could be got out of that fine
intellect with the two words "ghost" and "empress."
But who pulled the strings of that extraordinary puppet?
That was the question.
"You have never seen him; he speaks to you and you believe all he says?"
asked Moncharmin.
"Yes. To begin with, I owe it to him that my little Meg was promoted
to be the leader of a row. I said to the ghost, ‘If she is to be empress
in 1885, there is no time to lose; she must become a leader at once.'
He said, ‘Look upon it as done.' And he had only a word to say
to M. Poligny and the thing was done."
"So you see that M. Poligny saw him!"
"No, not any more than I did; but he heard him. The ghost said
a word in his ear, you know, on the evening when he left Box Five,
looking so dreadfully pale."
Moncharmin heaved a sigh. "What a business!" he groaned.
"Ah!" said Mme. Giry. "I always thought there were secrets between
the ghost and M. Poligny. Anything that the ghost asked M. Poligny
to do M. Poligny did. M. Poligny could refuse the ghost nothing."
"You hear, Richard: Poligny could refuse the ghost nothing."
"Yes, yes, I hear!" said Richard. "M. Poligny is a friend of
the ghost; and, as Mme. Giry is a friend of M. Poligny, there we are!
... But I don't care a hang about M. Poligny," he added roughly.
"The only person whose fate really interests me is Mme. Giry.
... Mme. Giry, do you know what is in this envelope?"
"Why, of course not," she said.
"Well, look."
Mine. Giry looked into the envelope with a lackluster eye,
which soon recovered its brilliancy.
"Thousand-franc notes!" she cried.
"Yes, Mme. Giry, thousand-franc notes! And you knew it!"
"I, sir? I?...I swear..."
"Don't swear, Mme. Giry!...And now I will tell you the second
reason why I sent for you. Mme. Giry, I am going to have you arrested."
The two black feathers on the dingy bonnet, which usually affected
the attitude of two notes of interrogation, changed into two notes
of exclamation; as for the bonnet itself, it swayed in menace
on the old lady's tempestuous chignon. Surprise, indignation,
protest and dismay were furthermore displayed by little Meg's mother
in a sort of extravagant movement of offended virtue, half bound,
half slide, that brought her right under the nose of M. Richard,
who could not help pushing back his chair.