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!" Chapter XIV  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 trap-doors 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 Remy, 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 Remy. "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." "They" were obviously the managers, who had given orders, during the
last entr'acte, that they were not to be disturbed on any pretext
whatever. They were not in to anybody. "All the same," exclaimed Gabriel, "a singer isn't run away with, from
the middle of the stage, every day!" "Did you shout that to them?" asked Mercier, impatiently. "I'll go back again," said Remy, and disappeared at a run. Thereupon the stage-manager arrived. "Well, M. Mercier, are you coming? What are you two doing here? You're wanted, Mr. Acting-Manager." "I refuse to know or to do anything before the commissary arrives,"
declared Mercier. "I have sent for Mifroid. We shall see when he
comes!" "And I tell you that you ought to go down to the organ at once." "Not before the commissary comes." "I've been down to the organ myself already." "Ah! And what did you see?" "Well, I saw nobody! Do you hear--nobody!" "What do you want me to do down there for{sic}?" "You're right!" said the stage-manager, frantically pushing his hands
through his rebellious hair. "You're right! But there might be some
one at the organ who could tell us how the stage came to be suddenly
darkened. Now Mauclair is nowhere to be found. Do you understand
that?" Mauclair was the gas-man, who dispensed day and night at will on the
stage of the Opera. "Mauclair is not to be found!" repeated Mercier, taken aback. "Well,
what about his assistants?" "There's no Mauclair and no assistants! No one at the lights, I tell
you! You can imagine," roared the stage-manager, "that that little
girl must have been carried off by somebody else:  she didn't run away
by herself! It was a calculated stroke and we have to find out about
it ...  And what are the managers doing all this time? ... I gave
orders that no one was to go down to the lights and I posted a fireman
in front of the gas-man's box beside the organ. Wasn't that right?" "Yes, yes, quite right, quite right. And now let's wait for the
commissary." The stage-manager walked away, shrugging his shoulders, fuming,
muttering insults at those milksops who remained quietly squatting in a
corner while the whole theater was topsyturvy{sic}. Gabriel and Mercier were not so quiet as all that. Only they had
received an order that paralyzed them. The managers were not to be
disturbed on any account. Remy had violated that order and met with no
success. At that moment he returned from his new expedition, wearing a curiously
startled air. "Well, have you seen them?" asked Mercier. "Moncharmin opened the door at last. His eyes were starting out of his
head. I thought he meant to strike me. I could not get a word in; and
what do you think he shouted at me? 'Have you a safety-pin?' 'No!' 'Well, then, clear out!' I tried to tell him that an unheard-of thing
had happened on the stage, but he roared, 'A safety-pin! Give me a
safety-pin at once!' A boy heard him--he was bellowing like a
bull--ran up with a safety-pin and gave it to him; whereupon Moncharmin
slammed the door in my face, and there you are!" "And couldn't you have said, 'Christine Daae.'" "I should like to have seen you in my place. He was foaming at the
mouth. He thought of nothing but his safety-pin. I believe, if they
hadn't brought him one on the spot, he would have fallen down in a fit! ... Oh, all this isn't natural; and our managers are going mad! ... Besides, it can't go on like this! I'm not used to being treated in
that fashion!" Suddenly Gabriel whispered:

"It's another trick of O. G.'s." Rimy gave a grin, Mercier a sigh and seemed about to speak ... but,
meeting Gabriel's eye, said nothing. However, Mercier felt his responsibility increased as the minutes
passed without the managers' appearing; and, at last, he could stand it
no longer. "Look here, I'll go and hunt them out myself!" Gabriel, turning very gloomy and serious, stopped him. "Be careful what you're doing, Mercier! If they're staying in their
office, it's probably because they have to! O. G. has more than one
trick in his bag!" But Mercier shook his head. "That's their lookout! I'm going! If people had listened to me, the
police would have known everything long ago!" And he went. "What's everything?" asked Remy. "What was there to tell the police? Why don't you answer, Gabriel? ... Ah, so you know something! Well,
you would do better to tell me, too, if you don't want me to shout out
that you are all going mad! ... Yes, that's what you are:  mad!" Gabriel put on a stupid look and pretended not to understand the
private secretary's unseemly outburst. "What 'something' am I supposed to know?" he said. "I don't know what
you mean." Remy began to lose his temper. "This evening, Richard and Moncharmin were behaving like lunatics,
here, between the acts." "I never noticed it," growled Gabriel, very much annoyed. "Then you're the only one! ... Do you think that I didn't see them?