The Opera House Chapter 7&8

7.

“Monsieur Debieme, you have to see this.” The carpenter called from the doorway of the kitchen cum dining area. The owner then was indulging in his salad of lecture and tomato with the slices of roast beef hidden beneath it. He sighed and placed down his fork before he stood up.

“Hmar kelb tfou (Annoying iidot)…” Debeninne cursed at his carpenter in Moroccan language when he was posted there serving in the Legionnaire.

“I heard that Monsieur. I have a Moroccan mother although my father is German, hence my life in French.”

 “Aha! Then you are truly a man with the continent as your birth state. Shall we proceed to your local work concern now since the continent is at peace now?”

 The two men took to the stairs to climb down the levels and soon they reached what was considered the lowest level. It was a scene of upright pillars lined in rows to form the foundation and crisscrossed beams to strengthen them from collapsing among each other. There were also the walkways to passage through the pillars for the House was situated over what may be termed as a layer of water. And the place stank of the most vile smell that could rival brimstones.

“Be careful, Monsieur. Some of the planks are …should I placed it weak from the rotting. You should follow my steps for I am lighter in the frame.” Debeninne was told and his reply was a silent muttering of obscenities that would place a Moroccan to cover his own ears.

“We are now at the area where I want you to see.” The carpenter pointed to the darkened corner at the side. “We found what may be termed a place of stay.”

It was indeed a place which someone had stayed for a while. There was a make shift room with the sides but no ceiling for the floor above was sufficient to form one. The place was laden with discards of the House from torn curtains to chairs that were thrown out when unsafe to seat on. There were also bones of discarded foods where the rodents have come to share on. What baffled him more were the pages of old lyrics which were probably scrimmaged from the waste bins.

“What is this place? It’s more worse than a battlefront pit…..Bertouche.(F***ing place)”

“Alas, a poor man dwelling, Monsieur. We have seen these at the …how will may I better described it….the pits of Hades. Yes, there do nahwik(f**k)” The carpenter mocked in his native language.

“Clean it up, man. I shall not have a colony here with them too.” Debennine hollered out.

“Si, Monsieur but that will cost you extra?” The carpenter was more calculative than the Eqyptian traders that he once dealt with the excavated treasures from the sands.

“So be it. Twice but not more if the works takes more than …three days.” The owner took his leave. That was his first account with the existent of the Phantom.

“So the Phantom is not …a phantom?” Comte de Chagny voiced out. “Viola! The mystery is solved.”

“You are mistaken, Comte. It was the start of the mystery.” Debeninne continued on. “The carpenter was rescued from the levels two days later raving of madness and succumbed to high fever before he died. His only mutterings was he saw the devil.”

“What the devil?” Comte de Chagny was distressed by that statement. “The devil does not exist….not in Paris. He …

”

“This is Paris but beneath the surface, we know Hades exists. The Phantom does exist. Let me continue.” Debeninne continued on. “I employed men of statute to check the place. I knew some good men from the Moroccan days. There were five of them and they went in. There were shots fired and after three days, they came out and cursed at me that I send them to a place which only a devil could survive but they found no signs of it. Only shadows and rodents by the plenty. No more money will get them to go back in again.”

“I saw their faces. They were scared. These are men who had fought in the war of the sands and looted the graves. If they are afraid, then I am scared. I sealed the doorway there and three others with my instructions that the doors were not to be opened. From then, there was some peace but the noise came back. The phantom had returned with vengeance and wrath was the fury of the devil brought from Hades to our world. Things go missing and the stagehands were scared to work alone more so in the late night. Corridors were lighted with gas lights and wooden stakes placed at the corners.”

“Yes, I heard or shall I say I read of it. It was like three years ago when the papers picked up the news.” Comte de Chagny recalled.

“Yes, the stagehand with vengeance for his removal by myself then had spread the news to some papers but we denied it all. We told them of the new plays which we were planning and setting the atmosphere for it. It worked then for we had full house for the subsequent plays.”

“Faust was it? The play with Devil. I was there for two successive nights.” Comte de Chagny laughed. “I have my christening cross hung over my chest beneath the tunic.”

“Yes, it worked but we were cautious. We had the extra guards and the priests in the premises then. It quelled the stagehands from fright and surprisingly the phantom did not appear then. Not for some months. It became quiet then and everything was normal. We dismissed the guards and the priests. We learned to smile but then the phantom soon returned. It did not retaliate like before. It began with the music from the piano when there was no one there or the creaking of the planks when there was no one walking on it.”

“But you went on.” Comte de Chagny remarked back.

“Yes, I did. No, we did. It was a profitable venture but the House was deserted in the late nights. The ones who stayed will remained in their rooms and only come out at morning after daybreak.” It was then Debeninne turned to Coligny. “Speak you, imbecile. You were there.”

“I would but your telling was so … entertaining.” Coligny turned to the Comte. “We are no more the owners so vis a vis. It’s not our issue any more.”

“Who are the new owners then?” Comte de Chagny asked.

“Armand c and Firmin Richard.” Coligny replied. “One rich chap and the other crafty bastard. The French was the later.”

8.

“Firmin, if Sherlock was here he would had said Elementary, my dear Watson. Your investment was most qualified.” Armand Moncharmin; businessman and business adviser to the rich English man with more business sense in trading than operating Opera Houses but let that be said, even man can do wonders that was once perceived only by the other sex.

“I won’t know, Armand. This is not the usual bids I am comfortable with but I trust your judgement.” The English man besides being mad to walk in the hot sun with the equally mad canine companion then sniffled at his nose. He was not too familiar with the stale air of the huge auditorium hall compared to the smoke hogged air of London.

“Yes, I am sound with our idea…I meant your investment in here.” Armand stepped aside and then with his loud voice bellowed out the praise for the new owners of which he held a marginal amount. His portion of the payout for the venture.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the new owners, the indomitable Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard.: The Frenchman made the introduction to the empty hall except for the dancers who were seated at the third row there. The dozen hands clapped and cheered at the odd couple there. They were odd for one was tall in his tailor made tweed three piece and top hat, while the other equally magnificent in the mass sewn suit from the sweat shops.

“Indomitable? I doubt I am anywhere there.” Firmin Richard taken in by the grand introduction then did then a bow. He looked at the partner of his; that one was truly indomitable for the man dressed like a man of the street and yet he held several estates from the scrupulous dealings. The Englishman trusted the other with the investments for her had not lost in any to date despite the murmurings of his lover then back in London.

‘Tell me, Armand. I heard tales of the …”

“Phantom? Oui, there is one here. He stands before us and viola, he may appear when we least expect him but of late, I hear he is out dining with Marie at the Lourve.” The Frenchman broke out in a loud laughter. “Surely you heard of the Kinnity Castle in Ireland or the Loch Ness in the Highlands. Fables and myths, my dear friend. You have been listening too long from Trevor.”

The Frenchman knew Trevor; the bed mate of the Englishman who does not know that Man was to bed Woman and not one other unless its ménage a trois. Armand disliked the man for he could never compete for Firmin to that bended level which why he took the Englishman off the London to Paris.

“Trevor had told me such tales, and it concerns me…”

 “Mon dieu! I thought all Trevor does was moan but the man does not speak. Its wonder how he does that..”

“Please, Armand. Your words on Trevor are not…”

“Oui, Monsieur, I am sorry. We are rivals for your …love.” Armand laughed. Then he sobered up and spoke in a business like voice. “The Phantom was a publicity stunt to promote their plays then. I think it was Faust. There was the demon named Mephistopheles.”

It was then the sound of something falling in the back stage. Both the new owners were taken affright of it but the appearance of Madame Giry assured them.

“Sorry, I dropped the box I was carrying.” The Madame approached the two men and then placed the box down. “You must be the new owners. I am Madame …”

“Madame Giry. I know you.” Firmin offered his handshake. “I heard of you from Trevor. He used to be a dancer too. Ballet was his forte. You were once the dancing Stork.”

“Oui, my nose was prominent.” Madame Giry reached to touch her nose.  “I am honoured to be remembered.”

“It’s my honour to meet you.” Firmin smiled. “You have been here for some time. Tell me of the Phantom.”

“A figment of imagination. I stayed here with my daughter. If there is a Phantom, then I could be the one. After all I could dance like one.” They all laughed and then the Madame excused herself to attend to her dancers.

“Are you sure we made a good investment here?” Firmin asked. “It’s not come cargoes of cocoa or tea which I can sell the next hour. Here I have to wait the daily intake to see it meet my expectations.”

“Oui, we will. I have plans to bring in the best to do the opening of the new Paris Opera House. I have contacted the Queen of Soprano, Carlotta Madeline Dupre to do the first play here; Carmen.”

“Carment? You are mad. I thought I was mad to be here. I thought we were playing Faust is the devil’s play. And who is Carlotta… My knowledge of the Opera is negligible.”

“Mon dieu! She is the Queen among them all. Do you know how difficult to get her? She is the prima Madonna of the Madonna.” Armand had his fingers placed on his lips to raise a kiss.

“And you paid her well from my money to get her?” Firmin glared at the Frenchman.

“Oui, he was suggested by Trevor. I was just trying to get both of you together.” There was a spat before Firmin left London and it showed in the man the pain. One must considered pain as a factor when the bed is without its warmth.

“And you believed him? When have you ever done that?” Firmin then was in anger.

“My dear friend, have I disappointed you?” Armand took on the firm stand. “I care for you and your …investment. If you recalled the India shipment, it was me who saved you the loss. I love you too but not like Trevor. He filled your love where I can’t but your pain with him hurts me too. I did it because it could bring all of us together. And make more money.”

“Armand, you are incorrigible.” Firmin smiled.

“My mother said so but she used a different word.” Armand smiled. After all, a smile cost nothing.

It was then the pianist tapped the keyboard to play the tune of Carmen and the lovely voice soon followed.

HABANERA - Carmen's aria from Carmen

Quand je vous aimerai?                                                          When will I love you? 

Ma foi, je ne sais pas,                                                               Good lord, I don't know,

Peut-être jamais, peut-être demain.                                      Maybe never,  maybe tomorrow.

Mais pas aujourd'hui,  c'est certain.                                    But not today, that's certain.

L'amour est un oiseau rebelle                                                Love is a rebellious bird

Que nul ne peut apprivoiser,                                                  That nothing can tame,

Et c'est bien en vain qu'on l'appelle,                                    And it is simply in vain to call it

S'il lui convient de refuser.                                                     If it is convient for it to refuse.

Rien n'y fait, menace ou prière,                                             Nothing will work, threat or pleading,

L'un parle bien, l'autre se tait;                                              One speaks,  the other stays quiet;

Et c'est l'autre que je préfère                                                  And it's the other that I prefer

Il n'a rien dit;  mais il me plaît.                                              He said nothing;  but he pleases me.

L'amour!  L'amour!  L'amour!  L'amour!                              Love!  Love!  Love!  Love!

L'amour est enfant de Bohême,                                              Love is the child of the Bohemian,

Il n'a jamais, jamais connu de loi,                                                             It has never, never known any law,

Si tu ne m'aime pas, je t'aime,                                                 If you don't love me, I love you,

Si je t'aime, prend garde à toi!                                              If  I love you, keep guard of yourself!

Si tu ne m'aime pas,                                                                  If you don't love me,

Si tu ne m'aime pas, je t'aime!                                                If you don't love me, I love you!

Mais, si je t'aime,                                                                      But, if I love you,

 “No, your voice needs to be more …affectionate. It’s love we are singing here. Try again.” The pianist told the young soprano. “Or you will miss your dance lessons soon.”

Firmin was transfixed by the voice that sang then. It was wonderful to his ears although he was not an avid opera goer but music was a universal sound. It transcend into people’s moods.

“I will telegraph, Trevor to join us in the opening.” Firmin walked away leaving Armand standing there with heavy thoughts.

“I guess Cousin Leon have to be told. He can also stop his training with the wooden beer keg plug.” Armand then followed the English man while the lady sang these lines.

L'oiseau que tu croyais surprendre                                       The bird you thought to surprise

Battit de  l'aile et s'envola;                                                      Bat its wing and flew away;