t, which did not surprise
Carlotta's friends, because Margarita does not sing in this act. As
for the managers, they looked at each other, when the curtain fell.

"That's one!" said Moncharmin.

"Yes, the ghost is late," said Firmin Richard.

"It's not a bad house," said Moncharmin, "for 'a house with a curse on
it.'"

M. Richard smiled and pointed to a fat, rather vulgar woman, dressed in
black, sitting in a stall in the middle of the auditorium with a man in
a broadcloth frock-coat on either side of her.

"Who on earth are 'those?'" asked Moncharmin.

"'Those,' my dear fellow, are my concierge, her husband and her
brother."

"Did you give them their tickets?"

"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."

Moncharmin asked what he meant and Richard answered that he had
persuaded his concierge, in whom he had the greatest confidence, to
come and take Mme. Giry's place. Yes, he would like to see if, with
that woman instead of the old lunatic, Box Five would continue to
astonish the natives?

"By the way," said Moncharmin, "you know that Mother Giry is going to
lodge a complaint against you."

"With whom? The ghost?"

The ghost! Moncharmin had almost forgotten him. However, that
mysterious person did nothing to bring himself to the memory of the
managers; and they were just saying so to each other for the second
time, when the door of the box suddenly opened to admit the startled
stage-manager.

"What's the matter?" they both asked, amazed at seeing him there at
such a time.

"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.

"Yes, she has."

"Whom?"

Richard glanced across at a box on the grand tier containing no one but
two men.

"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 ..."

"Really? Really?" said Moncharmin. "And who is that pale young man
beside him?"

"That's his brother, the viscount."

"He ought to be in his bed.