The Singular Attitude of a Safety-Pin
Behind the curtain, there was an indescribable crowd. Artists, scene-shifters, dancers, supers, choristers, subscribers were all asking questions, shouting and hustling one another.
“What became of her?”
“She’s run away.”
“With the Vicomte de Chagny, of course!”
“No, with the count!”
“Ah, here’s Carlotta! Carlotta did the trick!”
“No, it was the ghost!”
And a few laughed, especially as a careful examination of the trapdoors and boards had put the idea of an accident out of the question.
Amid this noisy throng, three men stood talking in a low voice and with despairing gestures. They were Gabriel, the chorus-master; Mercier, the acting-manager; and Rémy, the secretary. They retired to a corner of the lobby by which the stage communicates with the wide passage leading to the foyer of the ballet. Here they stood and argued behind some enormous “properties.”
“I knocked at the door,” said Rémy. “They did not answer. Perhaps they are not in the office. In any case, it’s impossible to find out, for they took the keys with them.”