O n the first landing, Sorelli ran against the Count de Chagny, who was coming upstairs. The count, who was generally so calm, seemed greatly excited.

“I was just going to you,” he said, taking off his hat .“Oh, Sorelli, what an evening! And Christine Daae: what a triumph!”

“Impossible!” said Meg Giry. “Six months ago, she couldn't sing to save her life ! But do let us get by, my dear count. We are going to inquire after a poor man who was found hanging by the neck.”

Just then the acting-manager came fussing past and stopped when he heard this remark.

“What!” he exclaimed roughly. “Have you girls heard already? Well, please forget about it for tonight. And above all don't let Mr. Debienne and Mr. Poligny hear; it would upset them too much on their last day.”

They all went on to the lobby of the ballet, which was already full of people. The Count de Chagny was right; no performance had ever equaled this one. All the great composers of the day had conducted their own works in turn. But the real triumph was reserved for Christine Daae, who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. Those who heard her say that she sang, in these passages, like an angel; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene of Gounod 's ‘Faust', which she sang in the place of Carlotta , who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it.

Daae revealed a new Margarita that night. The whole house went mad, rising to its feet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed and fainted in the arms of her fellow-singers and had to be carried to her dressing room. A few subscribers,however, protested. Why had so great a treasure been kept from them all that time? Had Debienne and Poligny known of her hidden genius? And, if they knew of it, why had they kept it hidden? And why had she kept it hidden? The whole thing was a mystery.

The Count de Chagny, standing up in his box, listened to all this frenzy and took part in it by loudly applauding. Count Philippe de Chagny was just forty-one years of age, and was a great aristocrat and a good-looking man. On the death of his father, he became the head of one of the oldest and most distinguished families in France, whose arms dated back to the fourteenth century.

The Countess de Chagny, had died in giving birth to Raoul, who was born twenty years after his elder brother. At the time of their father's death, Raoul was twelve years of age. Philippe busied himself actively with the youngster's education. He ended up receiving training in naval school, finished his course with honors and quietly made his trip round the world. Thanks to powerful influences, he had just been appointed a member of the official expedition being sent to the Arctic Ocean in search of the survivors of a previous expedition, of whom nothing had been heard for three years. Meanwhile, he was enjoying a long break which would not be over for six months; and already the old women of the Faubourg Saint - Germain were pitying the handsome and apparently delicate boy for the hard work in store for him.

He was a little over twenty-one years of age but looked eighteen. He had a small, fair mustache , beautiful blue eyes and a complexion like a girl's. His brother, Philippe, spoiled him. He took advantage of the young man's leave of absence to show him Paris, with all its luxurious and artistic delights. He took him with him wherever he went, including the opera and ballet.

On that evening, Philippe, after applauding 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 reached the stage and pushed through the crowd, 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, 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 at some point while the count stayed talking in the lobby with Sorelli, who often asked him to wait with her until it was her time to “ go on ”.

Postponing his usual visit to Sorelli for a few minutes, the count followed his brother down the passage that led to Daae's dressing room. The doctor of the theater had just arrived at the moment when Raoul entered at his heels . Christine, therefore,received the aid of the one, while opening her eyes in the arms of the other. The count and many more remained crowding the doorway. “Don't you think, Doctor, that those gentlemen had better clear the room ?” asked Raoul coolly. “There's no breathing here.”

“You're quite right,” said the doctor. And he sent everyone away, except Raoul and the maid.

Outside, Count Chagny turned to go to Sorelli's dressing room, but met her on the way, with her little troop of trembling ballet girls, as we have seen.

Meanwhile, Christine Daae uttered a deep sigh, which was followed by a groan. She turned her head, saw Raoul and started.She looked at the doctor, on whom she bestowed a smile, then at her maid, then at Raoul again.

“ Monsieur ,” she said, in a voice not much above a whisper,“who are you?”

“ Mademoiselle ,” replied the young man, kneeling on one knee and pressing a kiss on the singer's hand, “I am the little boy who went into the sea to rescue your scarf.”

Christine again looked at the doctor and the maid; and all three began to laugh. Raoul turned very red and stood up.

“You must go, young man,” said the doctor, with his pleasantest smile. “Leave me to attend to her .”

“I am not ill now,” said Christine suddenly, with strange and unexpected energy. She rose and passed her hand over her eyelids . “Thank you, Doctor. I should like to be alone.Please go away, all of you. Leave me. I feel very restless this evening.”

Outside, the doctor said to Raoul, “She is not herself tonight. She is usually so gentle.” Then he said good night and Raoul was left alone.

The whole of this part of the theater was now deserted.The farewell ceremony was no doubt taking place in the lobby of the ballet. He went up to the dressing room and, with his ear to the door to catch her reply, prepared to knock. But his hand dropped. He had heard a man's voice in the dressing room,saying in a curiously masterful tone, “Christine, you must love me!”

And Christine's voice, infinitely sad and trembling, as though accompanied by tears, replied, “How can you talk like that? When I sing only for you!”

Raoul leaned against the panel to ease his pain . His heart,which had seemed gone forever, returned to his breast and was beating loudly.

The man's voice spoke again, “Are you very tired?”

“Oh, tonight I gave you my soul and I am dead!” Christine replied.

“Your soul is a beautiful thing, child,” replied the grave man's voice, “and I thank you. No emperor ever received so fair a gift.”

Raoul waited in a dark corner, determined to wait for the man to leave the room. To his great astonishment, the door opened and Christine Daae appeared, wrapped in furs, with her face hidden in a lace veil, alone. She closed the door behind her,but Raoul observed that she did not lock it. She passed him. He did not even follow her with his eyes, for his eyes were fixed on the door, which did not open again.

When the passage was once more deserted, he crossed it, opened the door of the dressing room, went in and shut the door. He found himself in absolute darkness.

“You won't leave this room until I let you!” he exclaimed. “If you don't answer, you are a coward!”

And he struck a match. The blaze lit up the room. There was no one inside! Raoul, first turning the key in the door, lit the gas lamps. He went into the dressing-closet, opened the cupboards, hunted about, felt the walls with his moist hands.Nothing!

“Look here!” he said, aloud. “Am I going mad?”

He went out, not knowing what he was doing nor where he was going. At a given moment in his progress, an icy draft struck him in the face. He found himself at the bottom of a staircase, down which, behind him, a procession of workmen were carrying a sort of stretcher , covered with a white sheet.

“Which is the way out, please?” he asked of one of the men.

“Straight in front of you, the door is open. But let us pass.”

Pointing to the stretcher, he asked mechanically , “What's that?”

The workmen answered, “That's Joseph Buquet, who was found in the third cellar, hanged.”

He took off his hat, fell back to make room for the procession and went out.

run against sb. 偶然遇见某人

take of one's hat 当时的脱帽礼，以示打招呼、致敬等

to save her life 强调“绝对唱不出这样的水平”

be nothing to... 无法与……相提并论

Gounod 作曲家夏尔·古诺，Charles Gounod (1818-1893)，代表作即该段中的《罗密欧与朱丽叶》与《浮士德》

Carlotta 卡洛塔，当时著名的女高音歌唱家，巴黎歌剧院内至今仍有其塑像

reveal /rɪˈvi:l/ vt. 演绎，诠释，展现

frenzy /ˈfrenzɪ/ n. 激动的状态，极度狂乱的活动与行动

aristocrat /ˈærɪstəkræt/ n. 贵族，贵族成员

arm /ɑ:m/ n. 指家族的支脉，血缘关系

thanks to sb./sth. 由于某人/某事（多褒义）

Faubourg Saint-Germain 19世纪法国巴黎市内一区名，多教堂

in store for 即将发生的；为……准备的

mustache /məˈstɑ:ʃ/ n. 唇上的胡须

complexion /kəmˈplekʃən/ n. 面色，面貌

leave of absence 准假（尤指准予离开公职或军务）

go on 演员登台表演

enter at one's heels 紧跟着某人进来

clear the room 将房间里的人清出去

bestow /bɪˈstəʊ/ vt. （将某物作为礼物）赠予（某人），授予

monsieur 法语，意为“先生”

mademoiselle 法语，意为“小姐”

attend to sb. 照顾某人

eyelid /ˈaɪlɪd/ n. 眼睑

be not oneself （某人）与往常不一样

masterful /ˈmɑ:stəfʊl/ adj. 能控制别人的，专横的

ease one's pain 减轻、消除痛苦

lace /leɪs/ n. 透孔织品，网眼花边织品，蕾丝

blaze /bleɪz/ n. 火焰

stretcher /ˈstretʃə/ n. 担架

mechanically /mɪˈkænɪklɪ/ adv. 机械地，呆板地，无意识地

fall back 后退 /7AS0h2zpSERSpmhSA0OgRfxDEBaBuWRxcGKsX4tHZye5wQw63MFfomRCWXAHiSs