Philippe spoiled Raoul. To begin with, he was very proud of him and
pleased to foresee a glorious career for his junior in the navy in
which one of their ancestors, the famous Chagny de La Roche, had held
the rank of admiral. He took advantage of the young man's leave of
absence to show him Paris, with all its luxurious and artistic
delights. The count considered that, at Raoul's age, it is not good to
be too good. Philippe himself had a character that was very
well-balanced in work and pleasure alike; his demeanor was always
faultless; and he was incapable of setting his brother a bad example.
He took him with him wherever he went. He even introduced him to the
foyer of the ballet. I know that the count was said to be "on terms"
with Sorelli. But it could hardly be reckoned as a crime for this
nobleman, a bachelor, with plenty of leisure, especially since his
sisters were settled, to come and spend an hour or two after dinner in
the company of a dancer, who, though not so very, very witty, had the
finest eyes that ever were seen! And, besides, there are places where
a true Parisian, when he has the rank of the Comte de Chagny, is bound
to show himself; and at that time the foyer of the ballet at the Opera
was one of those places.
Lastly, Philippe would perhaps not have taken his brother behind the
scenes of the Opera if Raoul had not been the first to ask him,
repeatedly renewing his request with a gentle obstinacy which the count
remembered at a later date.
On that evening, Philippe, after applauding the Daae, turned to Raoul
and saw that he was quite pale.
"Don't you see," said Raoul, "that the woman's fainting?"
"You look like fainting yourself," said the count. "What's the matter?"
But Raoul had recovered himself and was standing up.
"Let's go and see," he said, "she never sang like that before."
The count gave his brother a curious smiling glance and seemed quite
pleased. They were soon at the door leading from the house to the
stage. Numbers of subscribers were slowly making their way through.
Raoul tore his gloves without knowing what he was doing and Philippe
had much too kind a heart to laugh at him for his impatience. But he
now understood why Raoul was absent-minded when spoken to and why he
always tried to turn every conversation to the subject of the Opera.
They reached the stage and pushed through the crowd of gentlemen,
scene-shifters, supers and chorus-girls, Raoul leading the way, feeling
that his heart no longer belonged to him, his face set with passion,
while Count Philippe followed him with difficulty and continued to
smile. At the back of the stage, Raoul had to stop before the inrush
of the little troop of ballet-girls who blocked the passage which he
was trying to enter. More than one chaffing phrase darted from little
made-up lips, to which he did not reply; and at last he was able to
pass, and dived into the semi-darkness of a corridor ringing with the
name of "Daae! Daae!" The count was surprised to find that Raoul knew
the way. He had never taken him to Christine's himself and came to the
conclusion that Raoul must have gone there alone while the count stayed
talking in the foyer with Sorelli, who often asked him to wait until it
was her time to "go on" and sometimes handed him the little gaiters in
which she ran down from her dressing-room to preserve the spotlessness
of her satin dancing-shoes and her flesh-colored tights. Sorelli had
an excuse; she had lost her mother.