zellephantom

Yikes! It's been a while... I can never seem to keep posting consistently here, and I seem to be always apologizing for the fact, but maybe this time I'll manage it. Speaking of managing, back to the managers slowly going insane!

{The time passed, slow, heavy, mysterious, stifling. Richard tried to laugh.

"I shall end by believing in the omnipotence of the ghost," he said. "Just now, don't you find something uncomfortable, disquieting, alarming in the atmosphere of this room?"}

The only strange, odd, and bizarre thing here is the number of synonyms being used in one sentence. Did Richard recently acquire a thesaurus and couldn't resist showing it off?

{"Of course, as you said, we can't be robbed without noticing it."}

Are you entirely sure of that? (I'd imagine Erik would probably enjoy the irony...)

{Richard tore off his coat. The two managers turned the pocket inside out. THE POCKET WAS EMPTY. And the curious thing was that the pin remained, stuck in the same place.

Richard and Moncharmin turned pale. There was no longer any doubt about the witchcraft.}

So shall we place an order for pitchforks and torches, then?

{"What do you mean, she has to be found? Has she disappeared?"

"In the middle of the performance!"

"In the middle of the performance? This is extraordinary!"

"Isn't it? And what is quite as extraordinary is that you should first learn it from me!"}

This is why you don't waste time walking backwards and looking at safety pins- important things could be happening! (Also why does this exchange seem so funny to me- particularly their initial reaction {"Christine Daae here?" echoed Richard. "No. Why?"})

{"Yes, she was carried off in the Prison Act, at the moment when she was invoking the aid of the angels; but I doubt if she was carried off by an angel."

"And I am sure that she was!"}

Way to make a dramatic entrance, Raoul!

{"That Christine Daae was carried off by an angel, M. LE COMMISSAIRE and I can tell you his name."

"Aha, M. le Vicomte de Chagny! So you maintain that Christine Daae was carried off by an angel: an angel of the Opera, no doubt?"

"Yes, monsieur, by an angel of the Opera; and I will tell you where he lives ... when we are alone."}

Angel of the Opera? No, Raoul, you're thinking of the Phantom of the Opera/Sherlock Holmes crossover novel by Sam Siciliano.

{"M. le Commissaire, the angel is called Erik, he lives in the Opera and he is the Angel of Music!"

"The Angel of Music! Really! That is very curious! ... The Angel of Music!" And, turning to the managers, M. Mifroid asked, "Have you an Angel of Music on the premises, gentlemen?"}

"I don't think angels try to extort people or crash chandeliers, so no. Maybe try Notre Dame?"

{"Oh," said the viscount, "those gentlemen have heard of the Opera ghost. Well, I am in a position to state that the Opera ghost and the Angel of Music are one and the same person; and his real name is Erik."

M. Mifroid rose and looked at Raoul attentively.

"I beg your pardon, monsieur but is it your intention to make fun of the law? And, if not, what is all this about the Opera ghost?"}

Javert voice: "I am the law and the law is not mocked!"

{Richard rose, with the remaining hairs of his mustache in his hand.

"No, M. Commissary, no, we do not know him, but we wish that we did, for this very evening he has robbed us of twenty-thousand francs!"}

Yes, we wish we knew him so we could take him out to dinner and congratulate him for pulling such an effective con on us. (Random idea: Modern!Erik as an eccentric social engineering penetration tester the managers hired whose infiltration goes too far...)

{"Monsieur," said Raoul, "I can quite understand how absurd my replies must seem to you. But I beg you to believe that I am in full possession of my faculties. The safety of the person dearest to me in the world is at stake. I should like to convince you in a few words, for time is pressing and every minute is valuable. Unfortunately, if I do not tell you the strangest story that ever was from the beginning, you will not believe me. I will tell you all I know about the Opera ghost, M. Commissary. Alas, I do not know much! ..."

"Never mind, go on, go on!" exclaimed Richard and Moncharmin, suddenly greatly interested.

Unfortunately for their hopes of learning some detail that could put them on the track of their hoaxer, they were soon compelled to accept the fact that M. Raoul de Chagny had completely lost his head. All that story about Perros-Guirec, death's heads and enchanted violins, could only have taken birth in the disordered brain of a youth mad with love. It was evident, also, that Mr. Commissary Mifroid shared their view; and the magistrate would certainly have cut short the incoherent narrative if circumstances had not taken it upon themselves to interrupt it.}

Little bit of an unintentional self-burn there, Leroux, calling the story an 'incoherent narrative'. But I suppose Raoul is too distraught to do it justice.

{"Monsieur, we have talked enough about the ghost. We will now talk about yourself a little, if you have no objection: you were to carry off Mlle. Christine Daae to-night?"

"Yes, M. le Commissaire."}

I would think it's maybe not the best idea to admit that you were going to run off with someone while there's an investigation going on about that person being abducted. "Yes, it's terrible that she's gone- if only I had gotten to her first! Then she'd still be gone, but with me!"

{"Did you know that there were three other carriages there, in addition to yours?"

"I did not pay the least attention."

"They were the carriages of Mlle. Sorelli, which could not find room in the Cour de l'Administration; of Carlotta; and of your brother, M. le Comte de Chagny..."}

So how does Sorelli have her own carriage, and what's the deal with her not being able to find room? Was it the equivalent of having terrible luck finding a parking space?

{"I beg your pardon. Was not M. le Comte opposed to your marriage with Mlle. Daae?"

"That is a matter that only concerns the family."

"You have answered my question: he was opposed to it ... and that was why you were carrying Christine Daae out of your brother's reach... Well, M. de Chagny, allow me to inform you that your brother has been smarter than you! It is he who has carried off Christine Daae!"}

It would be kind of funny if he did, and Erik had to counter-kidnap Christine in order to go through with his plans... And if Philippe had taken Christine, I'd imagine that would be pretty awkward- what would they even talk about, sitting in the carriage together? Or would they just sit in uncomfortable silence.

"For the record, I love your brother."

"Of course you do... However, I love him enough to ensure his future is not ruined by an opera wench."

"We weren't going to get married! He was going to take me away and return alone!"

"Tell that to L'Epoque."

"Because gossip in the papers is always so reliable, is it?"

{"Oh," cried the young man, "I shall catch them!" And he rushed out of the office.

"And bring her back to us!" cried the commisary gaily ... "Ah, that's a trick worth two of the Angel of Music's!"}

You're looking in the wrong place, Raoul. (And where had Philippe's carriage gone? I'd assume Philippe wasn't in it, given where he turns up later...) What does he mean by that statement? Is the commisary basically saying 'If he finds Christine, it'll be worth having to hear all that nonsense'?

{A tall figure blocked Raoul's way.

"Where are you going so fast, M. de Chagny?" asked a voice.

Raoul impatiently raised his eyes and recognized the astrakhan cap of an hour ago. He stopped:

"It's you!" he cried, in a feverish voice. "You, who know Erik's secrets and don't want me to speak of them. Who are you?"

"You know who I am! ... I am the Persian!"}

They're both so dramatic XD And yaaay the Persian's here and we're finally getting somewhere!

Current Mood: accomplished

Sorry about that unintentional hiatus- I got busy with classes, had some mental health stuff come up, was watching other Phantom adaptations instead of this, aand oh yeah! I got my hands on the Coward translation, so I've been reading that instead and wow, does de Mattos cut things out. It does have some weird quirks, like making Madame Giry cockney, translating Carlotta's croak as 'skaark', and according to fdelopera's blog (found here: https://fdelopera.tumblr.com/phantom-translations ) the annotations are supposedly not very good, but I don't know enough about the historical context to speak about that.

But since de Mattos is the only one in the public domain, I must make do with that in order to go as in depth as I'd like.

{"I beg your pardon. The envelope which M. le Directeur gave me was the one which I slipped into M. le Directeur's pocket," explained Mme. Giry. "The one which I took to the ghost's box was another envelope, just like it, which the ghost gave me beforehand and which I hid up my sleeve."

So saying, Mme. Giry took from her sleeve an envelope ready prepared and similarly addressed to that containing the twenty-thousand francs. The managers took it from her. They examined it and saw that it was fastened with seals stamped with their own managerial seal. They opened it. It contained twenty Bank of St. Farce notes like those which had so much astounded them the month before.

"How simple!" said Richard.

"How simple!" repeated Moncharmin. And he continued with his eyes fixed upon Mme. Giry, as though trying to hypnotize her.}

One might say Erik has many tricks up his sleeve... and also Madame Giry's sleeve, apparently XD

{"Then would you mind giving us a specimen of your little talents? Here is the envelope. Act as though we knew nothing."

"As you please, gentlemen."

Mme. Giry took the envelope with the twenty notes inside it and made for the door. She was on the point of going out when the two managers rushed at her:

"Oh, no! Oh, no! We're not going to be 'done' a second time! Once bitten, twice shy!"

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen," said the old woman, in self-excuse, "you told me to act as though you knew nothing ... Well, if you knew nothing, I should go away with your envelope!"}

Poor Madame Giry- she's just trying to do what they asked her!

{"I am to slip it into your pocket when you least expect it, sir. You know that I always take a little turn behind the scenes, in the course of the evening, and I often go with my daughter to the ballet-foyer, which I am entitled to do, as her mother; I bring her her shoes, when the ballet is about to begin ... in fact, I come and go as I please ... The subscribers come and go too... So do you, sir ... There are lots of people about ... I go behind you and slip the envelope into the tail-pocket of your dress-coat ... There's no witchcraft about that!"

"No witchcraft!" growled Richard, rolling his eyes like Jupiter Tonans. "No witchcraft! Why, I've just caught you in a lie, you old witch!"}

She's right- it is just sleight of hand. But the managers seem determined to be upset with her. I don't get why the Jupiter Tonans epithet is specifically referenced here instead of just Jupiter, and reading the Wikipedia article doesn't provide much enlightenment. Is it just supposed to mean his voice is thundering? What about the rolling eyes thing?

{"Yes, that's true, I remember now! The under-secretary went behind the scenes. He asked for me. I went down to the ballet-foyer for a moment. I was on the foyer steps ... The under-secretary and his chief clerk were in the foyer itself. I suddenly turned around ... you had passed behind me, Mme. Giry ... You seemed to push against me ... Oh, I can see you still, I can see you still!"}

Of course you can see her still- she's right in front of you! (Yes, I know he's referring to the memory of her bumping into him, but the wording just struck me as funny.)

{"Yes, that's it, sir, that's it. I had just finished my little business. That pocket of yours, sir, is very handy!"}

I was going to make a joke about modern women's clothing not having adequate pockets, but then I remembered that Madame Giry most likely would have had adequate pockets given the time period.

{Mme. Giry passed, rubbed up against M. Richard, got rid of her twenty-thousand francs in the manager's coat-tail pocket and disappeared ... Or rather she was conjured away. In accordance with the instructions received from Moncharmin a few minutes earlier, Mercier took the good lady to the acting-manager's office and turned the key on her, thus making it impossible for her to communicate with her ghost.}

Conjured away? Are they implying that the Phantom had something to do with her disappearance, or just that (since she has practice) she's good at slipping away and blending into a crowd?

I get why they had to lock her in FOR SCIENCE, but I still feel bad for her, stuck in an office until the managers decide they've figured out what happened. Also if they really think there's a real ghost, aren't they aware that ghosts are known for walking through walls? And if they think it's just a weird guy, why would they not also assume that said guy might also know how to pick locks in order to further his Phantom-y deeds??

{Meanwhile, M. Richard was bending and bowing and scraping and walking backward, just as if he had that high and mighty minister, the under-secretary for fine arts, before him. Only, though these marks of politeness would have created no astonishment if the under-secretary of state had really been in front of M. Richard, they caused an easily comprehensible amazement to the spectators of this very natural but quite inexplicable scene when M. Richard had no body in front of him.

M. Richard bowed ... to nobody; bent his back ... before nobody; and walked backward ... before nobody ... And, a few steps behind him, M. Moncharmin did the same thing that he was doing in addition to pushing away M. Remy and begging M. de La Borderie, the ambassador, and the manager of the Credit Central "not to touch M. le Directeur."}

Aaaand they're losing their minds... Wonderful.

{"Perhaps it was the ambassador ... or the manager of the Credit Central ... or Remy."}

Not Remy, the rat who learned how to cook! It couldn't possibly be him! Just taste his ratatouille- could a guilty rat make something that good?? (It would be funny if secretary Remy was only good at his job because there was a rat inside his hat controlling him, though.)

{"I am sure that nobody has touched me ... You had now better keep at some distance from me and watch me till I come to door of the office: it is better not to arouse suspicion and we can see anything that happens."}

If you're trying not to arouse suspicion, you're doing a terrible job of it.

{"But, in that case," exclaimed Richard, "they will never steal our twenty-thousand francs!"

"I should hope not, indeed!" declared Moncharmin.

"Then what we are doing is absurd!"}

Finally, a moment of self-awareness... XD Makes me think of "This is ridiculous, what am I doing here, I'm in the wrong story!" from Into the Woods.

{"Look here, I'm thinking of this, I'M THINKING OF WHAT I MIGHT THINK if, like last time, after my spending the evening alone with you, you brought me home and if, at the moment of parting, I perceived that twenty-thousand francs had disappeared from my coat-pocket ... like last time."

"And what might you think?" asked Moncharmin, crimson with rage.

"I might think that, as you hadn't left me by a foot's breadth and as, by your own wish, you were the only one to approach me, like last time, I might think that, if that twenty-thousand francs was no longer in my pocket, it stood a very good chance of being in yours!"}

I'm thinking that I might think that this is an entirely unproductive endeavor, and a business partnership like theirs should really be based on trust.

{And that was the moment when Moncharmin opened the door on the passage and shouted:

"A safety-pin! ... somebody give me a safety-pin!"

And we also know how, at the same moment, Remy, who had no safety-pin, was received by Moncharmin, while a boy procured the pin so eagerly longed for. And what happened was this: Moncharmin first locked the door again. Then he knelt down behind Richard's back.}

Moncharmin, you realize that people are going to think something embarrassing happened to one of you, don't you?

{"A little patience, Richard," said Moncharmin. "We have only a few minutes to wait ... The clock will soon strike twelve. Last time, we left at the last stroke of twelve."}

Just remember to take both of your shoes with you when you leave and thank your fairy godmother for the opportunity!

Current Mood: blank
Current Location: On the Steps of the Palace
Current Music: Ten Minutes Ago

Merry Christmas (or whatever else you celebrate!)- here's some Phantom Thoughts as my gift to you, whether you like it or not!

I'm skipping over some parts a bit, as there's not really much I can think of to say about them.

{The woman laughed, screamed with laughter! Raoul darted away, roaring with anger, ran up-stairs, four stairs at a time, down-stairs, rushed through the whole of the business side of the opera-house, found himself once more in the light of the stage.}

I'd start a tally for 'how many times Raoul has been openly laughed at in this novel', but I think it would just be depressing... (Plot twist- he's actually gone this whole book wearing a red clown nose or an equally humorous accessory and everyone has noticed it except for him, so no one can take him seriously.)

{At the same moment the stage buzzed with a new sound and, amid a crowd of men in evening-dress, all talking and gesticulating together, appeared a man who seemed very calm and displayed a pleasant face, all pink and chubby-cheeked, crowned with curly hair and lit up by a pair of wonderfully serene blue eyes. Mercier, the acting-manager, called the Vicomte de Chagny's attention to him and said:}

I know this is supposed to be a man, but the way he's described just sounds like someone talking about a baby. 'Oh, he's so calm and pleasant- and just look at those chubby pink cheeks!'

{Raoul was the last to enter. As he was about to follow the rest into the room, a hand was laid on his shoulder and he heard these words spoken in his ear:

"ERIK'S SECRETS CONCERN NO ONE BUT HIMSELF!"

He turned around, with a stifled exclamation. The hand that was laid on his shoulder was now placed on the lips of a person with an ebony skin, with eyes of jade and with an astrakhan cap on his head: the Persian! The stranger kept up the gesture that recommended discretion and then, at the moment when the astonished viscount was about to ask the reason of his mysterious intervention, bowed and disappeared.}

The Persian! Oh, it's so great to see him again (and we'll be seeing a lot more of him soon enough)! But if he was trying to communicate with Raoul subtly and quietly, HE MIGHT'VE CONSIDERED NOT SPEAKING LOUD ENOUGH TO BE RENDERED IN ALL CAPS.

{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.}

Would that amount of bills even fit into a single envelope? (Maybe I'm just not used to handling large amounts of money...)

Also, I don't really get why usually the managers (or sometimes the narrative itself) keep interchangeably calling Madame Giry either Madame Giry or Mother Giry. Madame I get, but isn't Mother a bit strange and superfluous, as everyone presumably knows her as Little Meg Giry's mom? Nobody goes around calling my mom Mother Phantom (and not just because it's not my actual last name)!

{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"!}

Is this implying that Erik took the time to draw up some fake bank notes just for a prank? I guess he can't spend all his time working on Don Juan Triumphant or pining for Christine...

{"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.}

Let's see, Timmy gets a quarter in allowance for making his bed every day, Wendy gets a dollar for washing the dog, aaaand O.G. gets twenty thousand francs for being the best opera ghost and making a general nuisance of himself!

{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.}

Flashback to that terrible attempt at a comedy song from the David Staller Phantom musical where the managers are growing increasingly suspicious of each other as the Phantom uses tricks to pit them against each other. (My vague recollection was that it was called something like 'Now Who's Running the Show'??)

{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.}

Erik has learned the power of positive reinforcement in getting people to do what you want XD

{"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:}

Okay, how would a black dress fade to a *lilac* purple with age? I could see it fading to a darker purple like mulberry or plum, but the almost-lavender of lilac?

{"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."}

Did- did she just refer to herself in the third person? Are Erik's habits catching on?

{"Are you still on good terms with the ghost?"

"Couldn't be better, sir; couldn't be better."}

"After all, you tried to fire me, but *he* appreciates me enough to murder my replacement to get me reinstated!"

{"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."}

Doing all he wants could generally be seen as being an accomplice to some degree, Madame Giry. And the sheer audacity to say Erik's not very troublesome- I think Carlotta would have a thing or two to say about that, not to mention Joseph Buquet, if he were still around to say anything!

{"How much does he give you for bringing him that envelope?"

"Ten francs."

"You poor thing! That's not much, is it?}

Yeah, he could at least give you enough to buy a nice new dress so you wouldn't have to keep wearing that one. Or, for that matter, the managers who are HER ACTUAL EMPLOYERS could pay her more, if they actually are as sympathetic as they say they are for her shabby state...

{"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."}

No, she needs at least twenty francs before she'll acknowledge you publicly as a friend! (At least she's not poor Meg in Love Never Dies, who actually gives herself over body and soul in a fruitless attempt at gaining Mr. Y's attention and love...)

{"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 I very much hope you do, dear lady, or at least live long enough to see your daughter become a baroness!

{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!}

I feel like context is important for understanding how the aforementioned women attained their high positions. Also, you think Erik would just go for 'Queen' or something- it's a little bit more attainable, I think, as Empress implies possessing an empire and I think there's probably more kingdoms than empires in the world.

{"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."}

Because the leader would therefore stick out more and be more likely to attract the attention of a royal personage in the future?

(With both their levels of blind devotion to who, unbeknownst to them, is the same person, I'd almost think Madame Giry and Madame Valerius would get along well.)

{"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."}

We like to keep things PG here, Madame Giry.

{"HAVE ME ARRESTED!"

The mouth that spoke those words seemed to spit the three teeth that were left to it into Richard's face.

M. Richard behaved like a hero. He retreated no farther. His threatening forefinger seemed already to be pointing out the keeper of Box Five to the absent magistrates.

"I am going to have you arrested, Mme. Giry, as a thief!"

"Say that again!"

And Mme. Giry caught Mr. Manager Richard a mighty box on the ear, before Mr. Manager Moncharmin had time to intervene. But it was not the withered hand of the angry old beldame that fell on the managerial ear, but the envelope itself, the cause of all the trouble, the magic envelope that opened with the blow, scattering the bank-notes, which escaped in a fantastic whirl of giant butterflies.}

I don't think Richard is the hero here- which one of them is the one who's interrogating and pretending to be friendly with a gullible but harmless older lady for the sake of pinning a crime on her, and which one is the (not so!) harmless old lady who just wants what's best for her daughter?

You go, Madame Giry- box some sense into those managers who think you're a dastardly mastermind capable of pulling off elaborate tricks and crimes!

{"I never said that," declared Mme. Giry, "seeing that it was myself who put the twenty-thousand francs into M. Richard's pocket." And she added, under her voice, "There! It's out! ... And may the ghost forgive me!"

Richard began bellowing anew, but Moncharmin authoritatively ordered him to be silent.

"Allow me! Allow me! Let the woman explain herself. Let me question her." And he added: "It is really astonishing that you should take up such a tone! ... We are on the verge of clearing up the whole mystery. And you're in a rage! ... You're wrong to behave like that... I'm enjoying myself immensely."}

Can I just say that asking forgiveness from an angel makes much more sense than asking a ghost's forgiveness?

Richard: "But I thought we agreed to do a 'good cop, bad cop' routine!"

{"Aha!" said Richard, suddenly assuming a swaggering air which Moncharmin did not like. "I knew nothing either! You put twenty-thousand francs in my pocket and I knew nothing either! I am very glad to hear it, Mme. Giry!"

"Yes," the terrible dame agreed, "yes, it's true. We neither of us knew anything. But you, you must have ended by finding out!"

Richard would certainly have swallowed Mme. Giry alive, if Moncharmin had not been there! But Moncharmin protected her.}

I'd hardly say that Madame Giry is terrible, even if she did just box someone in the ears for calling her a thief.

Do I need to start a count for 'cannibalism references related to eating Madame Giry'? (Is she everyone in management's go-to for 'if we were stranded on a deserted island and running out of food, this is who we'd eat first' ? She really doesn't deserve that.) Because if so, in the immortal words of Doctor Doofenshmirtz, "I'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice."

Current Mood: anxious

{It was at that moment that the stage was suddenly plunged in darkness. It happened so quickly that the spectators hardly had time to utter a sound of stupefaction, for the gas at once lit up the stage again. But Christine Daae was no longer there!}

Did the Phantom get his hands on some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder? XD

{Where had Christine gone? What witchcraft had snatched her, away before the eyes of thousands of enthusiastic onlookers and from the arms of Carolus Fonta himself? It was as though the angels had really carried her up "to rest."}

Well, she hasn't been carried up to rest... I think you might have more success looking down. Also, I'm just curious, is Carolus Fonta meant to be based on a real life opera singer of the time, or is he basically the proto-Piangi?

{But Raoul hurriedly left his seat, the count disappeared from his box and, while the curtain was lowered, the subscribers rushed to the door that led behind the scenes. The rest of the audience waited amid an indescribable hubbub. Every one spoke at once. Every one tried to suggest an explanation of the extraordinary incident.}

'Indescribable hubbub' is such a good phrase. And I'm picturing everyone offering explanations in almost a Buzzfeed Unsolved kind of way, and there's one person who's absolutely sure that it was aliens and will not be convinced otherwise.

{At last, the curtain rose slowly and Carolus Fonta stepped to the conductor's desk and, in a sad and serious voice, said:

"Ladies and gentlemen, an unprecedented event has taken place and thrown us into a state of the greatest alarm. Our sister-artist, Christine Daae, has disappeared before our eyes and nobody can tell us how!"}

I wonder how well he knew Christine- were they friends? They'd probably at least worked together in rehearsals. I mean, they probably aren't super close or else he would've been mentioned before (and a certain lurking Phantom would have gotten jealous and likely tried to get him assigned to a different role- can't have Christine falling for the handsome lead tenor), and the 'sister-artist' is likely just a theatrical flourish...

{Behind the curtain, there was an indescribable crowd. Artists, scene-shifters, dancers, supers, choristers, subscribers were all asking questions, shouting and hustling one another.}

And there's that 'indescribable' again, although it's undermined by the fairly successful attempt to describe the contents of the crowd that's gathered. Okay, what exactly are supers and choristers?

I know what subscribers means in this context, but it's much funnier to imagine a more YouTube-esque scenario where every so often the performance just stops and one of the actors goes 'Don't forget to subscribe for more great opera content like this!' 'Check out our new merch in the foyer- 50% off with the promo code FAUST!' 'Hit the bell to turn on notifications so you don't miss any of our future performances!' and they address the subscribers with some cheesy name like the "Garnier Gang" or something like that.

{"Ah, here's Carlotta! Carlotta did the trick!"}

Also funny to imagine: Carlotta, Philippe, Raoul, and Erik were all trying to take Christine away sometime during the performance for drastically different reasons, but their attempts kept foiling each other's and Christine makes it through the performance just fine, unaware of these machinations, but finds them all waiting for her afterwards looking varying degrees of peeved and shooting glares at each other.

Or the crowd just desperately grasping at straws for any possible explanation, and involving anything and anyone in their line of sight in their theories. ("Look- there's a prop broomstick backstage!" "Weren't there supposed to be two of these?" "I bet Christine flew off on the other one!" "Yeah, didn't you hear someone yelling 'So, if you care to find me- look to the western sky!' during all that commotion?" "That's not what happened- besides, she's a soprano, not a mezzo-soprano!")

{"No, it was the ghost!" And a few laughed, especially as a careful examination of the trap-doors and boards had put the idea of an accident out of the question.}

Riiiight, because the ghost is only responsible for accidents. He wouldn't do something so purposeful as vanishing the leading lady during the middle of the performance to take her down to his secret underground lair. The Ghost would never do something like that, right? /s

{Amid this noisy throng, three men stood talking in a low voice and with despairing gestures. They were Gabriel, the chorus-master; Mercier, the acting-manager; and Remy, the secretary. They retired to a corner of the lobby by which the stage communicates with the wide passage leading to the foyer of the ballet. Here they stood and argued behind some enormous "properties."}

Remy! I almost forgot that he wasn't a MAZM Phantom original. [insert obligatory Ratatouille the Musical joke here]

{"I refuse to know or to do anything before the commissary arrives," declared Mercier. "I have sent for Mifroid. We shall see when he comes!"}

Mifroid! Wow, I'd forgotten how attentive the MAZM Phantom game was with even the names of minor characters! (They managed to mangle Erik's redemption, which is kind of the entire point of the story, but still! Props for attention to detail!)

{"What do you want me to do down there for{sic}?"}

[sic] indeed! But then, I'd probably not be paying as much attention here either- this whole scene and the managers' antics that follow manages to disrupt the flow of the whole story, just when tension is building over Christine's disappearance, and I don't really find the whole safety pin thing particularly engaging or funny.

{The stage-manager walked away, shrugging his shoulders, fuming, muttering insults at those milksops who remained quietly squatting in a corner while the whole theater was topsyturvy{sic}.}

Okay, I didn't mean two typos in roughly the span of a page was excusable...

{"Moncharmin opened the door at last. His eyes were starting out of his head. I thought he meant to strike me. I could not get a word in; and what do you think he shouted at me? 'Have you a safety-pin?' 'No!' 'Well, then, clear out!' I tried to tell him that an unheard-of thing had happened on the stage, but he roared, 'A safety-pin! Give me a safety-pin at once!' A boy heard him—he was bellowing like a bull—ran up with a safety-pin and gave it to him; whereupon Moncharmin slammed the door in my face, and there you are!"}

New method of dealing with interruptions: tell the person that you can't be bothered dealing with them unless they have a safety-pin. (Or, you know, just read a book on anger management or effective management practices or inspiring loyalty in your employees through leadership.)

{"And couldn't you have said, 'Christine Daae.'"

"I should like to have seen you in my place. He was foaming at the mouth. He thought of nothing but his safety-pin. I believe, if they hadn't brought him one on the spot, he would have fallen down in a fit! ... Oh, all this isn't natural; and our managers are going mad! ... Besides, it can't go on like this! I'm not used to being treated in that fashion!"}

That last sentence seems more suited to Carlotta than anyone else. Maybe if you'd had a safety-pin on you, you might have persuaded them into offering you a raise?

{Rimy gave a grin, Mercier a sigh and seemed about to speak ... but, meeting Gabriel's eye, said nothing.}

And now there's no [sic], right when a character's name is clearly misspelled?

Skipping some lines due to my capacity for bearing with excessive ellipses and all caps becoming exhausted.

{"Oh, so you admit it! And high time, too! And THEN, THEY WALK BACKWARD!"

"BACKWARD! You have seen our managers WALK BACKWARD? Why, I thought that only crabs walked backward!"}

I thought crabs walked sideways? But admittedly, I know nothing about crabs, and I suspect studying them further would only make me... crabby XD

{"Perhaps you can tell me this, Gabriel, as you're an intimate friend of the management: When I went up to M. Richard, outside the foyer, during the Garden interval, with my hand out before me, why did M. Moncharmin hurriedly whisper to me, 'Go away! Go away! Whatever you do, don't touch M. le Directeur!' Am I supposed to have an infectious disease?"}

Well, if you aren't social distancing and wearing your mask, I can't blame them for avoiding you...

{"And Moncharmin, behind Richard, also turned about; that is, he described a semicircle behind Richard and also WALKED BACKWARD! ... And they went LIKE THAT to the staircase leading to the managers' office: BACKWARD, BACKWARD, BACKWARD! ... Well, if they are not mad, will you explain what it means?"

"Perhaps they were practising a figure in the ballet," suggested Gabriel, without much conviction in his voice.

The secretary was furious at this wretched joke, made at so dramatic a moment.}

Come on, Remy, you had to admit he had a golden opportunity there XD

{"You did see it, Gabriel, for you went with Mercier and Mother Giry to Mercier's office. Since then, you and Mercier have been seen, but no one has seen Mother Giry."

"Do you think we've eaten her?"}

"Well, you do already have a ghost in your workplace, so I don't know if secret cannibalism is that much of a stretch." (But kudos for a joke that actually made me laugh- assuming this isn't some other bizarre mistranslation...)

Current Mood: exhausted

{"The little baggage!" growled the count.}

Weird insult, but okay.

{Raoul, behind the curtain of his hands that veiled his boyish tears, thought only of the letter which he received on his return to Paris, where Christine, fleeing from Perros like a thief in the night, had arrived before him}

Boyish tears? I was under the impression that tears were simply water flowing from one's eyes- I wasn't aware that they were inherently gendered.

{Thenceforth, certain of herself, certain of her friends in the house, certain of her voice and her success, fearing nothing, Carlotta flung herself into her part without restraint of modesty ... She was no longer Margarita, she was Carmen.}

Forgive me for my little knowledge of Opera, but aren't Margarite from Faust and Carmen from.. er, Carmen, two completely different character types?

Also, gentle readers, I have taken the liberty of removing the massive amounts of quotations from Faust in this chapter. It might mean something to someone who is familiar with Faust and could pinpoint where exactly they are at the moment, but I am generally disregarding it.

{The uproar in the house was indescribable. If the thing had happened to any one but Carlotta, she would have been hooted. But everybody knew how perfect an instrument her voice was; and there was no display of anger, but only of horror and dismay, the sort of dismay which men would have felt if they had witnessed the catastrophe that broke the arms of the Venus de Milo...}

Well, I'm glad that the audience likes Carlotta and isn't taking the oppertunity to kick her while she's down. (Even if she might deserve it, given her treatment of Christine.)

{So much so that, after some seconds spent in asking herself if she had really heard that note, that sound, that infernal noise issue from her throat, she tried to persuade herself that it was not so, that she was the victim of an illusion, an illusion of the ear, and not of an act of treachery on the part of her voice....}

How dare you, Carlotta's voice! You treacherous wretch! (Also, it's interesting to note that Carlotta's ego is partially right- her voice is a technically perfect instrument, and the audience recognizes it.)

{Moncharmin and Richard had turned very pale. This extraordinary and inexplicable incident filled them with a dread which was the more mysterious inasmuch as for some little while, they had fallen within the direct influence of the ghost. They had felt his breath. Moncharmin's hair stood on end. Richard wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Yes, the ghost was there, around them, behind them, beside them; they felt his presence without seeing him, they heard his breath, close, close, close to them!}

It's not polite to just stand there and breathe down people's necks without saying anything, Erik. At least give them something ominous to haunt their nightmares! (Or, alternatively, the quacking incident has put the managers so on edge that they're just imagining things.)

{THEY FELT THAT THEY WERE SMARTING UNDER THE GHOST'S ATTACKS.}

WOAH SUDDEN ALL CAPS TO EMPHASIZE THE DRAMA (seriously, Leroux really likes sudden all caps)

{"I feel without alarm ...
I feel without alarm—co-ack!
With its melody enwind me—co-ack!
And all my heart sub—co-ack!"}

That feeling when you get the hiccups.

{And, at last, they distinctly heard his voice in their right ears, the impossible voice, the mouthless voice, saying: "SHE IS SINGING TO-NIGHT TO BRING THE CHANDELIER DOWN!"}

Okay, just because you can't see who's talking doesn't mean he doesn't have a mouth!

{The chandelier, the immense mass of the chandelier was slipping down, coming toward them, at the call of that fiendish voice. Released from its hook, it plunged from the ceiling and came smashing into the middle of the stalls, amid a thousand shouts of terror}

So, is Erik up there with the chandelier throwing his voice, or is he down in Box Five with the manager and somehow remotely crashing the chandelier? For that matter, was Carlotta really quacking, or was that him throwing his voice? And if he messed with her throat spray, then why did it fail at that exact moment and not earlier, while she was being Carmen-esque?

Current Mood: contemplative

As I poked my head out of a large pile of academic writing, I wondered what I should do for a break. "Oh, I know!" I said. "More writing!"

But seriously, I'm having a blast writing these, and in the past day or so I've gotten so many nice & funny comments! Thank you to everyone who's commented, and I'm glad you're enjoying this! (Next book will be Pride and Prejudice- yay! But we're only on chapter 7 of Phantom so unless I decide to start it early and have it running concurrently, it could be a while.)

{The first act passed without incident, which did not surprise Carlotta's friends, because Margarita does not sing in this act.}

WAITWAITWAIT- did I miss something earlier? I thought these were just a cadre of devoted fans and underlings, not genuine FRIENDS. Who are they? What are they like? How do they put up with Carlotta??

{"I did ... My concierge had never been to the Opera—this is, the first time—and, as she is now going to come every night, I wanted her to have a good seat, before spending her time showing other people to theirs."}

REDSHIRT ALERT REDSHIRT ALERT- not literally, though, since this lady is described as being dressed in black. Also as "a rather vulgar woman", which is... not very nice even though I'm not entirely sure what that's supposed to indicate. Is it because she's fat? (That would be terribly offensive, if so.) Because she's 'uncultured' and has never attended the opera before? (That's slightly better, but still- vulgar?) Is there some cultural thing I'm just not getting here?

{The ghost! Moncharmin had almost forgotten him.}

You're probably the only one who has, Moncharmin, since the novel is NAMED AFTER HIM.

{"It seems there's a plot got up by Christine Daae's friends against Carlotta. Carlotta's furious."

"What on earth ... ?" said Richard, knitting his brows.

But the curtain rose on the kermess scene and Richard made a sign to the stage-manager to go away. When the two were alone again, Moncharmin leaned over to Richard:

"Then Daae has friends?" he asked.}

And the ever-polite Moncharmin wonders aloud how Christine Daae could have any friends at all, given that she's a delusional weirdo loner.

{"The Comte de Chagny?"

"Yes, he spoke to me in her favor with such warmth that, if I had not known him to be Sorelli's friend ..."}

Ah, yes, Sorelli's 'friend' who definitely doesn't sneak off after performances to have romantic rendezvouses. That friend.

It's interesting that *Philippe* is the one speaking highly of Christine here, even though we don't know if they've ever interacted directly in the course of the novel. Does someone have a celebrity crush, or is he just helping out an old friend of his brother's?

{"That's his brother, the viscount."

"He ought to be in his bed. He looks ill."}

Raoul, sweetie, go get some rest. Christine will be waiting for you afterward.

{Siebel made her entrance. Christine Daae looked charming in her boy's clothes; and Carlotta's partisans expected to hear her greeted with an ovation which would have enlightened them as to the intentions of her friends. But nothing happened.}

Ohhkayy.. Well, I guess if Christine really needed to go into hiding, she could just disguise herself as a boy? Meanwhile, Carlotta's fans have revised their opinion and realize that Christine is a friendless loser after all.

{Some, who seemed to be better informed than the rest, declared that the "row" would begin with the ballad of the KING OF THULE and rushed to the subscribers' entrance to warn Carlotta.}

The opera audience: fight fight fight fight

Also, interesting tidbit- the King of Thule is a poem originally written in German by Goethe and set to music by many composers (so idk which music is intended here). It's about a king (duh) who was given a golden goblet by his dying mistress which becomes his most prized possession. He won't drink out of anything else, even when he's dying. One day, he finishes drinking from it and decides, for whatever reason, to throw it into the sea. He watches it sink and fill up with seawater AND THEN... he dies. the end.

(Summary might not be entirely accurate as my only source of research was Wikipedia. I issue a formal apology to all my English teachers.)

Current Mood: accomplished

{added Moncharmin. "We shall have the whole press against us! He'll tell the story of the ghost; and everybody will be laughing at our expense! We may as well be dead as ridiculous!"}

Mssr. Moncharmin appears to have a similar outlook to Hermione Granger's "We could be killed- or worse, expelled!"

{About the same time, Carlotta, who had a small house of her own in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore, rang for her maid, who brought her letters to her bed. Among them was an anonymous missive, written in red ink, in a hesitating, clumsy hand, which ran:

If you appear to-night, you must be prepared for a great misfortune at the moment when you open your mouth to sing ... a misfortune worse than death.

The letter took away Carlotta's appetite for breakfast. She pushed back her chocolate, sat up in bed and thought hard. It was not the first letter of the kind which she had received, but she never had one couched in such threatening terms.}

The Phantom has messy handwriting- this probably offends Carlotta just as much as the threats. I imagine her having very flowing, elegant handwriting. She also has chocolate for breakfast! Good call. And is not threatened by hate mail! Good for her.

{The truth is that, if there was a cabal, it was led by Carlotta herself against poor Christine, who had no suspicion of it. Carlotta had never forgiven Christine for the triumph which she had achieved when taking her place at a moment's notice. When Carlotta heard of the astounding reception bestowed upon her understudy, she was at once cured of an incipient attack of bronchitis and a bad fit of sulking against the management and lost the slightest inclination to shirk her duties. From that time, she worked with all her might to "smother" her rival, enlisting the services of influential friends to persuade the managers not to give Christine an opportunity for a fresh triumph. ... Lastly, in the theater itself, the celebrated, but heartless and soulless diva made the most scandalous remarks about Christine and tried to cause her endless minor unpleasantnesses.}

That's seriously not cool, Carlotta. Faking sick (I assume?) then sulking because your replacement is *actually* good? And even if she thinks Christine is the Phantom, or else currying favor with the vicomte in order to supplant Carlotta, the extent she goes to ruin Christine's career is not okay. Yet I hesitate to agree with Leroux that she is a 'heartless and soulless diva'. (Especially since I love the headcanon that Carlotta was Erik's former pupil who cared more about securing her fame and becoming technically perfect in her singing than Erik and showing emotions in song.) Flawed, vindictive, and tempermental? Yes. A bully? Yes. A heartless monster? No, especially not when compared to Erik, who might be monstorous but is decidedly not heartless.

{The first thing she saw, when looking out of her window, was a hearse. She was very superstitious; and the hearse and the letter convinced her that she was running the most serious dangers that evening.}

Sorelli is also superstitious, isn't she? I wonder if the two of them get along, or can't stand each other. At least Sorelli cares for her underlings, while Carlotta seems to only care that she *has* them.

{The famous baritone, Carolus Fonta, had hardly finished Doctor Faust's first appeal to the powers of darkness, when M. Firmin Richard, who was sitting in the ghost's own chair, the front chair on the right, leaned over to his partner and asked him chaffingly:

"Well, has the ghost whispered a word in your ear yet?"}

The managers are snarky, as usual.

But the existence of this minor character, famous baritone Carolus Fonta, just makes me wonder why ALW felt the need to invent Piangi for the musical. Why not just keep the name Carolus, change him to a tenor (I think Piangi is a tenor?), and add that he has a thing for Carlotta? He's already, at least from our short look at him, got a soft spot for Christine, so you wouldn't even need to add that. Why Piangi, not Carolus?

Current Mood: busy

I'm skipping chapter 6, since it's very short and I legitimately could not think of anything to say about it. For the curious, the chapter is basically the managers trying to figure out what's going on in Box Five while the Phantom scares them by somehow creating an illusion of statues laughing at them. Also, the managers resolve to sit in Box Five for the next performance of Faust. There was also some slight wordplay with Pandora's box and Box Five, which I highly approve of.

{"He has the chief management of the stable."

"What stable?"

"Why, yours, sir, the stable of the Opera."

"Is there a stable at the Opera? Upon my word, I didn't know. Where is it?"

"In the cellars, on the Rotunda side. It's a very important department; we have twelve horses."}

The new managers have been in charge for HOW LONG and they don't know about an important department and the at least 6 employees that work there??? Also why are horses such a necessary feature in operas that they need TWELVE of them?? Are there just a lot of horse-heavy operas in 19th century France that I just don't know about?

{"These are 'places,'" Mercier interposed, "created and forced upon us by the under-secretary for fine arts. They are filled by protegees of the government and, if I may venture to ..."}

So the GOVERNMENT did this? I'm just picturing government officials saying "Do you know what the opera house needs? HORSES!! At least TWELVE of them! And they need, of course, six stablehands to care for them!" "Simply genius! I shall implement this right away!"

{"Has Cesar been stolen?" cried the acting-manager. "Cesar, the white horse in the Profeta?"

"There are not two Cesars," said the stud-groom dryly. "I was ten years at Franconi's and I have seen plenty of horses in my time. Well, there are not two Cesars. And he's been stolen."}

I know the Phantom didn't leave a note, since there's such a mystery around this, but what if he *did*? Like this:

Dear stablehands,

Henceforth, Cesar is now MY little pony. Make no attempt to see him again.

xoxo the Opera Ghost

Current Mood: tired

{Did the ghost really take a seat at the managers' supper-table that night, uninvited? And can we be sure that the figure was that of the Opera ghost himself? Who would venture to assert as much?}

I would. It just makes sense, and I don't see you offering a better explanation, Mssr. Leroux. Ooh, also him being at the dinner party is described as a "sublime piece of impudence" which is pretty cool.

{"The ballet-girls are right," he said. "The death of that poor Buquet is perhaps not so natural as people think."}

So Erik came to the party to:

A) Freak people out and make things awkward
B) Basically admit to murder??

{'We really can't work to keep ghosts! We prefer to go away!'}

Have you considered another career, then? You know that many theaters claim to be haunted, right?? You're basically signing up to be a ghost zookeeper!

{'If I had such a troublesome ghost as that, I should not hesitate to have him arrested.'}

I'm not sure if that's legal, since by definition ghosts are dead. Can you arrest dead people?

{He soon remembered that it was the red handwriting in which the memorandum-book had been so curiously completed. He recognized the clumsy childish hand.}

I really want to headcanon Erik with elegant handwriting, but then I remember that this exists.

{DEAR MR. MANAGER:

I am sorry to have to trouble you at a time when you must be so very busy, renewing important engagements, signing fresh ones and generally displaying your excellent taste. I know what you have done for Carlotta, Sorelli and little Jammes and for a few others whose admirable qualities of talent or genius you have suspected.

Of course, when I use these words, I do not mean to apply them to La Carlotta, who sings like a squirt and who ought never to have been allowed to leave the Ambassadeurs and the Cafe Jacquin; nor to La Sorelli, who owes her success mainly to the coach-builders; nor to little Jammes, who dances like a calf in a field.}

Dear new managers,

I really don't want to be a bother, but here, let me roast your entire cast! Also, I'm going to threaten you if you don't reserve my favorite seat!

Your Humble Servant,
The Totally Legit Opera Ghost

(What do you mean that's not how it happened??)

{"They are keeping up the joke," said M. Richard, "but I don't call it funny."}

Have you considered, that maybe, just maybe, THIS ISN'T A JOKE?? Like who goes to this much effort on a prank that isn't even that funny to begin with?

{"Reputations are easily obtained," replied Moncharmin. "Haven't I a reputation for knowing all about music? And I don't know one key from another."

"Don't be afraid: you never had that reputation," Richard declared.}

I just wanted to put that bit here because the managers snarking at each other is fun.

Current Mood: bored

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