-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Гастон Леру
-
- Призрак Оперы
-
- Стр. 21/258
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Pointing
to
the
stretcher
,
he
asked
mechanically
:
"
What
’
s
that
?
"
The
workmen
answered
:
"
’
That
’
is
Joseph
Buquet
,
who
was
found
in
the
third
cellar
,
hanging
between
a
farm
-
house
and
a
scene
from
the
ROI
DE
LAHORE
.
"
He
took
off
his
hat
,
fell
back
to
make
room
for
the
procession
and
went
out
.
During
this
time
,
the
farewell
ceremony
was
taking
place
.
I
have
already
said
that
this
magnificent
function
was
being
given
on
the
occasion
of
the
retirement
of
M
.
Debienne
and
M
.
Poligny
,
who
had
determined
to
"
die
game
,
"
as
we
say
nowadays
.
They
had
been
assisted
in
the
realization
of
their
ideal
,
though
melancholy
,
program
by
all
that
counted
in
the
social
and
artistic
world
of
Paris
.
All
these
people
met
,
after
the
performance
,
in
the
foyer
of
the
ballet
,
where
Sorelli
waited
for
the
arrival
of
the
retiring
managers
with
a
glass
of
champagne
in
her
hand
and
a
little
prepared
speech
at
the
tip
of
her
tongue
.
Behind
her
,
the
members
of
the
Corps
de
Ballet
,
young
and
old
,
discussed
the
events
of
the
day
in
whispers
or
exchanged
discreet
signals
with
their
friends
,
a
noisy
crowd
of
whom
surrounded
the
supper
-
tables
arranged
along
the
slanting
floor
.
A
few
of
the
dancers
had
already
changed
into
ordinary
dress
;
but
most
of
them
wore
their
skirts
of
gossamer
gauze
;
and
all
had
thought
it
the
right
thing
to
put
on
a
special
face
for
the
occasion
:
all
,
that
is
,
except
little
Jammes
,
whose
fifteen
summers
—
happy
age
!
—
seemed
already
to
have
forgotten
the
ghost
and
the
death
of
Joseph
Buquet
.
She
never
ceased
to
laugh
and
chatter
,
to
hop
about
and
play
practical
jokes
,
until
Mm
.
Debienne
and
Poligny
appeared
on
the
steps
of
the
foyer
,
when
she
was
severely
called
to
order
by
the
impatient
Sorelli
.
Everybody
remarked
that
the
retiring
managers
looked
cheerful
,
as
is
the
Paris
way
.
None
will
ever
be
a
true
Parisian
who
has
not
learned
to
wear
a
mask
of
gaiety
over
his
sorrows
and
one
of
sadness
,
boredom
or
indifference
over
his
inward
joy
.
You
know
that
one
of
your
friends
is
in
trouble
;
do
not
try
to
console
him
:
he
will
tell
you
that
he
is
already
comforted
;
but
,
should
he
have
met
with
good
fortune
,
be
careful
how
you
congratulate
him
:
he
thinks
it
so
natural
that
he
is
surprised
that
you
should
speak
of
it
.
In
Paris
,
our
lives
are
one
masked
ball
;
and
the
foyer
of
the
ballet
is
the
last
place
in
which
two
men
so
"
knowing
"
as
M
.
Debienne
and
M
.
Poligny
would
have
made
the
mistake
of
betraying
their
grief
,
however
genuine
it
might
be
.
And
they
were
already
smiling
rather
too
broadly
upon
Sorelli
,
who
had
begun
to
recite
her
speech
,
when
an
exclamation
from
that
little
madcap
of
a
Jammes
broke
the
smile
of
the
managers
so
brutally
that
the
expression
of
distress
and
dismay
that
lay
beneath
it
became
apparent
to
all
eyes
:
"
The
Opera
ghost
!
"
Jammes
yelled
these
words
in
a
tone
of
unspeakable
terror
;
and
her
finger
pointed
,
among
the
crowd
of
dandies
,
to
a
face
so
pallid
,
so
lugubrious
and
so
ugly
,
with
two
such
deep
black
cavities
under
the
straddling
eyebrows
,
that
the
death
’
s
head
in
question
immediately
scored
a
huge
success
.
