The Phantom of the Opera - Page 91/178

Just then, Carlotta made her entrance in a box facing the stage, a

sensational entrance. Poor Christine raised her eyes upon this fresh

subject of excitement. She recognized her rival. She thought she saw

a sneer on her lips. That saved her. She forgot everything, in order

to triumph once more.

From that moment the prima donna sang with all her heart and soul. She

tried to surpass all that she had done till then; and she succeeded.

In the last act when she began the invocation to the angels, she made

all the members of the audience feel as though they too had wings.

In the center of the amphitheater a man stood up and remained standing,

facing the singer. It was Raoul.

"Holy angel, in Heaven blessed ..."

And Christine, her arms outstretched, her throat filled with music, the

glory of her hair falling over her bare shoulders, uttered the divine

cry: "My spirit longs with thee to rest!"

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!

What had become of her? What was that miracle? All exchanged glances

without understanding, and the excitement at once reached its height.

Nor was the tension any less great on the stage itself. Men rushed

from the wings to the spot where Christine had been singing that very

instant. The performance was interrupted amid the greatest disorder.

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."

Raoul, still standing up in the amphitheater, had uttered a cry. Count

Philippe had sprung to his feet in his box. People looked at the

stage, at the count, at Raoul, and wondered if this curious event was

connected in any way with the paragraph in that morning's paper. 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.

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!"