作者：（法）卡斯顿·勒胡
出版社：航空工业出版社
格式: AZW3, DOCX, EPUB, MOBI, PDF, TXT
床头灯英语5000词纯英文：歌剧魅影试读：
主要人物关系表
Erik 埃力克：男主人公，深爱着克丽丝汀，人人谈而色变的“歌剧魅影”
Christine Daae 克丽丝汀·妲伊：女主人公，歌剧院纯洁善良的女演员
Raoul de Chagny Viscount 拉乌尔·德·尚涅子爵：克丽丝汀的男友
Persian“波斯人”：埃力克的旧交，协助拉乌尔营救克丽丝汀
Madame Giry 格瑞夫人：歌剧院包厢管理员
Carlotta 卡洛塔：歌剧院首席女高音，克丽丝汀的死敌
Philipe de Chagny Count 菲利浦·德·尚涅伯爵：拉乌尔之兄
Armand Moncharmin, Firmin Richard 阿尔芒·芒查玟，弗尔民·理查德：歌剧院新任经理
次要人物关系表
Mercier, Gabriel, Remy 麦希尔、加布里尔、瑞密：歌剧院新任经理的属下
M. Mifroid 密弗德：克丽丝汀失踪一案的总巡官
Faure 弗尔：密弗德的继任者
Madame Valerius 瓦雷瑞斯夫人：克丽丝汀的恩公之妻
Meg 麦格：格瑞夫人之女
Joseph Buquet 约瑟夫·布盖特：歌剧院换幕员
Debienne and Poligny 德比埃纳先生与勃利涅先生：歌剧院前任经理
故事梗概
《歌剧魅影》是一对情侣历经危难终成眷属的故事，但更是一个内心扭曲阴暗的男人一生追求幸福，并最终获得天使般高洁灵魂的故事。农家孩子埃里克因相貌天生奇丑，而遭父母抛弃，受尽了冷漠、歧视与利用。一次次创伤之后，他看透了世人的尔虞我诈，心中充满仇恨，变得阴险残暴。而后在巴黎歌剧院地下隐居，成为人人谈而色变的“歌剧魅影”。
世人的恐惧并没有换来埃里克的满足，他渴望得到自己的幸福与快乐，遂用绝世天赋谱写乐曲《凯旋的唐·璜》，抒发了一生的苦闷与希冀。偶遇纯洁的克丽丝汀后，埃里克深深爱上了她，明白赢得她的爱是自己获得幸福与快乐的唯一途径。然而埃里克由于内心扭曲，给予姑娘的爱充满了暴力与专制，这是早有爱人的克丽丝汀所不能接受的。暴戾的埃里克于是开始报复，克丽丝汀宁死不从。然而面对埃里克毁灭巴黎城的威胁，善良的姑娘毅然选择牺牲自己，换取众人的安全。这一高尚举动，使埃里克认识到人世间除了卑劣的假、恶、丑，依然存在着高尚的真、善、美，曾经阴暗的内心瞬间得到了光明——他还给了克丽丝汀自由，成全了她与拉乌尔的爱情，真正如天使般赐予了他人一生的幸福；自己则默默承受了失去克丽丝汀的一切打击，于极度孤寂与失落中死去。数日后，克丽丝汀悄然将埃里克安葬，使他的灵魂得到了安息。
PREFACE
The Operaghost really existed. Yes, he existed in flesh and blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom; that is to say, of a ghost.
When I began to go through the records of the National Academy of Music I was at once struck by the surprising coincidences between the phenomena ascribed to the“ghost”and the most extraordinary and fantastic tragedy that ever excited the Paris upper classes; and I soon conceived the idea that this tragedy might reasonably be explained by the phenomena in question. The events do not date more than thirty years back; and it would not be difficult to find men who would remember as though they happened yesterday the mysterious and dramatic things, such as the kidnapping of Christine Daae, the disappearance of the Viscount de Chagny and the death of his elder brother, Count Philippe, whose body was found on the bank of the lake that exists in the lower cellars of the Opera. But none of those witnesses had until that day thought that there was any reason for connecting the more or less legendary figure of the Opera ghost with that terrible story.
One day I had just left the library when I met the delightful acting-manager of our Opera, who stood chatting on a landing with a lively and well-groomed little old man, to whom he introduced me gaily. The acting-manager knew all about my investigations and how eagerly and unsuccessfully I had been trying to discover the whereabouts of the Chief Inspector in the famous Chagny case, Mr. Faure. Nobody knew what had become of him, alive or dead; and here he was back from Canada, where he had spent fifteen years. The first thing he had done, on his return to Paris, was to come to the Opera house and ask for a free seat. The little old man was Mr. Faure himself.
We spent a good part of the evening together and he told me the whole Chagny case as he had understood it at the time. He was bound to conclude in favor of the madness of the viscount and the accidental death of the elder brother, for lack of evidence to the contrary; but he was nevertheless persuaded that a terrible tragedy had taken place between the two brothers in connection with Christine Daae. He could not tell me what became of Christine or the viscount. When I mentioned the ghost, he only laughed. He, too, had been told of the curious manifestations that seemed to point to the existence of an abnormal being, residing in one of the most mysterious corners of the Opera, and he knew the story of the envelope; but he had never seen anything in it worthy of his attention as Chief Inspector in charge of the Chagny case, and it was as much as he had done to listen to the evidence of a witness who appeared of his own accord and declared that he had often met the ghost. This witness was none other than the man whom all Paris called the“Persian”and who was well-known to every subscriber of the Opera.
I was immensely interested by this story of the Persian. I wanted, if there were still time, to find this valuable and eccentric witness. My luck began to improve and I discovered him in his little flat in the Rue de Rivoli, where he had lived ever since and where he died five months after my visit. I was at first inclined to be suspicious; but when the Persian had told me, with childlike frankness, all that he knew about the ghost and had handed me the proofs of the ghost's existence — including the strange correspondence of Christine Daae, I was no longer able to doubt. No, the ghost was not a myth!
I have, I know, been told that this correspondence may have been forged from first to last by a man whose imagination had certainly been fed on the most seductive tales; but fortunately I discovered some of Christine's writing outside the famous bundle of letters and, on a comparison between the two, all my doubts were removed. I also went into the past history of the Persian and found that he was an upright man, incapable of inventing a story that might have defeated the ends of justice. This, moreover, was the opinion of the more serious people who, at one time or other, were mixed up in the Chagny case, who were friends of the Chagny family.
Lastly, with my bundle of papers in hand, I once more went over the ghost's vast domain, the huge building which he had made his kingdom. All that my eyes saw, all that my mind perceived, agreed with the Persian's documents precisely; and a wonderful discovery crowned my labors in a very definite fashion. It will be remembered that, later, when digging in the lowest area of the Opera, workmen laid bare a corpse. Well, I was at once able to prove that this corpse was that of the Opera ghost.
For the present, I must conclude this very necessary introduction by expressing my thanks to all who helped me to be able to reproduce those hours of sheer love and terror, in their smallest details.
Gaston Leroux注释
The Opera 巴黎歌剧院，由拿破仑三世于1861年下令建造，耗时十四年修建，装饰极尽奢华，结构极其复杂。
phantom ［'fæntəm］ n. （文）幽灵、鬼魂
go through 仔细查阅
ascribe to 归功于，归咎于，归因于
conceive ［kən'si:v］ v. 构思，想象
Christine Daae 克丽丝汀·妲伊女
Viscount de Chagny 子爵，地位高于男爵（baron）低于伯爵（count）。de法语，意为of。Changy为拉乌尔一家封地地名，援引为家族姓氏。
more or less 或多或少，大约，修饰legendaly
well-groomed 穿着打扮干净利索
gaily ［'ɡeili］ adv. （古）喜气洋洋
whereabout ［'wεərə'baut］ n. 下落、行踪
what becomes of sb. or sth. （习语）某人、某物情况如何
in favor of 倾向于、赞成于
manifestation ［ˌmænifes'teiʃən］ n. 鬼神显灵
of one's own accord 主动，自愿
subscriber ［sʌbs'kraibə］ n. 赞助人、股东
eccentric ［ik'sentrik］ adj. 古怪的，不合常规的
Rue de Rivoli 法语，意为“街道”； de意为of； Rivoli该街的名字
forge ［fɔ:ʤ］ v. 伪造，如 forge a banknote
seductive ［si'dʌktiv］ adj. 诱人的，有魅力的，吸引人的
domain ［dəu'mein］ n. 领地
crown ［kraun］ v. 圆满结束或完成某事，如：The Academy Award for Best Actress crowned the film star's career.CHAPTER 1Is It the Ghost?
It was the evening when Mr. Debienne and Mr. Poligny, the managers of the Opera, were giving a last performance to mark their retirement. Suddenly the dressing room of Ms. Sorelli, one of the principal dancers, was invaded by half-a-dozen young ladies of the ballet. They rushed in amid great confusion, some giving vent to forced and unnatural laughter, others to cries of terror. Sorelli, who wished to be alone for a moment to run through the speech which she was to make to the retired managers, looked around angrily at the mad and noisy crowd. It was little Jammes who gave the explanation in a trembling voice:“It's the ghost!”And she locked the door.
Sorelli was very superstitious. She shuddered when hearing little Jammes speak of the ghost, called the girl a“silly little fool”and then, as she was the first to believe in ghosts in general, and the Opera ghost in particular, at once asked for details.
According to the girls, the ghost had appeared to them in the shape of a gentleman in dress-clothes, who had suddenly stood before them in the passage, without their knowing where he came from. He seemed to have come straight through the wall.“Ha!”said one of them, who had more or less kept her head.“You see, the ghost everywhere!”
And it was true. For several months, there had been nothing discussed at the Opera but this ghost in dress-clothes who stalked about the building, from top to bottom, like a shadow, who spoke to no one, to whom no one dared speak and who vanished as soon as he was seen, no one knowing how or where.
Joseph Buquet, the chief scene-changer, claimed to have run up against the ghost on the little staircase, which leads to“the cellars.”And to anyone who cared to listen to him he described the ghost as follows:“He is extraordinarily thin and his dress-coat hangs on a skeleton frame. His eyes are so deep that you can hardly see the fixed pupils. You just see two big black holes, as in a dead man's skull. His skin, which is stretched across his bones like a drumhead, is not white, but nasty yellow. His nose is so little worth talking about that you can't see it side-face; and the absence of that nose is a horrible thing to look at.”
His words were received with interest and amazement; and soon there were other people to say that they too had met a man in dress-clothes with a death's head on his shoulders. Sensible men who had wind of the story began by saying that Joseph Buquet had been the victim of a joke played by one of his assistants. And then, one after the other, there came a series of incidents so curious and so inexplicable that the very shrewdest people began to feel uneasy.
For instance, a fireman who had gone to make a round of inspection in the cellars and who, it seems, had ventured a little farther than usual, suddenly reappeared on the stage, pale, scared, trembling, with his eyes starting out of his head, and practically fainted in the arms of the mother of little Jammes. And why? Because he had seen coming toward him, a head of fire!
The Corps de Ballet was flung into alarm. At first sight, this fiery head in no way corresponded with Joseph Buquet's description of the ghost. But the young ladies soon persuaded themselves that the ghost had several heads, which he changed about as he pleased. And, of course, they at once imagined that they were in the greatest danger.
Now, to return to the evening in question...“It's the ghost!”Little Jammes had cried. An agonizing silence now reigned in the dressing room. Nothing was heard but the hard breathing of the girls. At last, Jammes, flinging herself upon the farthest corner of the wall, with every mark of real terror on her face, whispered:“Listen!”
Everybody seemed to hear a rustling outside the door. There was no sound of footsteps. It was like light silk sliding over the panel. Then it stopped.
Sorelli went up to the door and, in a shaking voice, asked:“Who's there?”But nobody answered. Then feeling all eyes upon her, watching her last movement, she made an effort to show courage, and said very loudly:“Is there any one behind the door?”
Armed with a knife that never left her, Sorelli turned the key and opened the door slowly, while the ballet-girls retreated to the inner dressing room. Sorelli looked into the passage bravely. It was empty. And the dancer slammed the door again, with a deep sigh.
“No,”she said,“there is no one there. Come, children, pull yourselves together! I dare say no one has ever seen the ghost.”“Yes, yes, we saw him — we saw him just now!”cried the girls.“He had his death's head and his dress-coat, just as when he appeared to Joseph Buquet!”
A silence followed, which was soon broken by little Meg Giry, who said:“Joseph Buquet would do better to hold his tongue. Mother says the ghost doesn't like being talked about.”
“And why does your mother say so?”
“I swore not to tell!”gasped Meg.
But they left her no peace and promised to keep the secret, until Meg, deciding to say all she knew, began, with her eyes fixed on the door:
“Well, it's because of the ghost's private box.”
“Has the ghost a box? Oh, do tell us, do tell us!”
“Not so loud!”said Meg.“It's Box Five, you know, next to the stage-box, on the left. Mother has charge of it. No one has had it for over a month, except the ghost, and orders have been given at the box-office that it must never be sold.”
The ballet-girls exchanged glances.
“But no one's ever seen him in that box, Giry,”said one of them.
“That's just it! The ghost is not seen. And he has no dresscoat and no head! All that talk about his death's head and his head of fire is nonsense! There's nothing in it. You only hear him when he is in the box. Mother has never seen him, but she has heard him. Mother knows, because she gives him a contract.”
Then little Giry began to cry.“I ought to have held my tongue. If mother ever came to know...! But I was quite right, Joseph Buquet had no business talking of things that don't concern him. It will bring him bad luck. Mother was saying so last night...”
There was a sound of hurried and heavy footsteps in the passage and a breathless voice cried:“Cecile! Cecile! Are you there?”
“It's mother's voice,”said Jammes.“What's the matter?”
She opened the door. A respectable lady burst into the dressing room and dropped into a vacant armchair, groaning.“How awful!”she said.“How awful!”
“What? What?”
“Joseph Buquet is dead!”
The room became filled with exclamations, with astonished cries, with scared requests for explanations.
“Yes, he was found hanging in the third-floor cellar!”
Sorelli went pale.“I shall never be able to recite my speech,”she said.
Mrs. Jammes gave her opinion, while she emptied a glass of whiskey that happened to be standing on a table; the ghost must have something to do with it.
The truth is that no one ever knew how Joseph Buquet met his death. The verdict at the investigation was“natural suicide.”In his Memoirs of a Manager, Mr. Moncharmin, one of the joint managers who succeeded Mr. Debienne and Mr. Poligny, describes the incident as follows:
“A grievous accident spoiled the little party which Mr. Debienne and Mr. Poligny gave to celebrate their retirement. I was in the manager's office, when Mercier, the acting-manager, suddenly came darting in. He seemed half mad and told me that the body of a scene-changer had been found hanging in the third cellar. I shouted: ‘Cut him down!’
“A short while later, Mercier returned, exclaiming: ‘By the time I had rushed down the staircase with Jacob's ladder, the man was no longer hanging from his rope!’
“A pretty strange suicide, if you ask me. I imagine that somebody must have been interested in seeing that the rope disappeared after it had effected its purpose; and time will show if I am wrong.”
The horrid news soon spread all over the Opera, where Joseph Buquet was very popular. The dressing rooms emptied and the ballet-girls, crowding around Sorelli like timid sheep around their shepherdess, made for the lobby through the ill-lit passages and staircases, walking as fast as their little pink legs could carry them.注释
rushed in amid great confusion 慌乱中冲了进来
give vent to （习语）表达某事，如：He gave vent to his feeling in an impassioned speech.
run through 浏览，草草看过
superstitious ［ˌsju:pə'stiʃəs］ adj. 迷信的
in general 总体来说，大体上
in particular 尤其，特别，与in gerneral对应
keep one's head 保持镇定、清醒
stalk ［stɔ:k］ v. （邪恶势力、疾病等）可怕地蔓延
run up against 遇到，碰到（困难、问题，多不好事物）
drumhead ［'drʌmhed］ n. 鼓面
have wind of （习语）听到秘密消息、风吹草动。如：Our competitor must not be allowed to get any wind of our new plan.
shrewd ［ʃru:d］ adj. 有敏锐判断力与常识的
a round of inspection 例行检查
fiery ［'faiəri］ adj. 冒火的
correspond with 与…相一致，相符合，如：The written record of our conversation doesn't correspond with what was acctrually said.
agonizing ［'æɡənaiziŋ］ adj. 令人若恼的，痛苦的；agonize ［'æɡənaiz］ v. 对某事极是忧虑或担心
reign ［rein］ v. 当政，统治，支配，形容屋中的绝对寂静
rustling ［'rʌsliŋ］ n. 轻而爽的声音
pull oneself together 控制自己，控制感情
hold one's tongue （习语）保密，守口如瓶
gasp ［ɡɑ:sp］ v. 喘气
left sb. no peace 缠着某人（问、看…）
box ［bɔks］ n. 包厢
exchange ［iks'tʃeinʤ］ v. 互换。exchange glances 互换眼色
nonsense ［'nɔnsəns］ n. 无意义的词语，废话，荒唐念头
vacant ［'veikənt］ adj. 空缺的，未占着的
groan ［ɡrəun］ v. 呻吟、叹息，groan inwardly 暗中叫苦
whiskey ［'wiski］ n. 威士忌，一种用谷物酿成的烈酒
verdict ［'və:dikt］ n. 裁断，裁决，结论
memoir ［'memwɑ:］ n. 法语，意即“回忆录”
grievous ［'ɡri:vəs,'ɡrivəs］ adj. （指坏事）严重的，剧烈的
spoil ［spɔil］ v. 毁掉，糟蹋，spoils n. 战利品，脏物
dart ［dɑ:t］ v. 猛冲，突进
horrid ［'hɔrid］ adj. 可怕的，恐怖的
timid ［'timid］ adj. 胆怯的，羞怯的 as timid as a rabbit （习语）胆小如兔
shepherdess ［'ʃepədis］ n. 牧羊女 shepherd ［'ʃepəd］ 牧羊人（男性）CHAPTER 2The New Margarita
On the first landing, Sorelli ran against the Count de Chagny, who was coming upstairs. The count, who was generally so calm, seemed greatly excited.
“I was just going to you,”he said, taking off his hat.“Oh, Sorelli, what an evening! And Christine Daae: what a triumph!”
“Impossible!”said Meg Giry.“Six months ago, she couldn't sing to save her life! But do let us get by, my dear count. We are going to inquire after a poor man who was found hanging by the neck.”
Just then the acting-manager came fussing past and stopped when he heard this remark.
“What!”he exclaimed roughly.“Have you girls heard already? Well, please forget about it for tonight. And above all don't let Mr. Debienne and Mr. Poligny hear; it would upset them too much on their last day.”
They all went on to the lobby of the ballet, which was already full of people. The Count de Chagny was right; no performance had ever equaled this one. All the great composers of the day had conducted their own works in turn. But the real triumph was reserved for Christine Daae, who had begun by singing a few passages from Romeo and Juliet. Those who heard her say that she sang, in these passages, like an angel; but this was nothing to the superhuman notes that she gave forth in the prison scene of Gounod's ‘Faust,’ which she sang in the place of Carlotta, who was ill. No one had ever heard or seen anything like it.
Daae revealed a new Margarita that night. The whole house went mad, rising to its feet, shouting, cheering, clapping, while Christine sobbed and fainted in the arms of her fellow-singers and had to be carried to her dressing room. A few subscribers, however, protested. Why had so great a treasure been kept from them all that time? Had Debienne and Poligny known of her hidden genius? And, if they knew of it, why had they kept it hidden? And why had she kept it hidden? The whole thing was a mystery.
The Count de Chagny, standing up in his box, listened to all this frenzy and took part in it by loudly applauding. Phillipe Count de Chagny was just forty-one years of age, and was a great aristocrat and a good-looking man. On the death of his father, he became the head of one of the oldest and most distinguished families in France, whose arms dated back to the fourteenth century.
The Countess de Chagny, had died in giving birth to Raoul, who was born twenty years after his elder brother. At the time of their father's death, Raoul was twelve years of age. Philippe busied himself actively with the youngster's education. He ended up receiving training in naval school, finished his course with honors, and quietly made his trip round the world. Thanks to powerful influences, he had just been appointed a member of the official expedition being sent to the Arctic Ocean in search of the survivors of a previous expedition, of whom nothing had been heard for three years. Meanwhile, he was enjoying a long break which would not be over for six months; and already the old women of the Faubourg Saint-Germain were pitying the handsome and apparently delicate boy for the hard work in store for him.
He was a little over twenty-one years of age but looked eighteen. He had a small, fair mustache, beautiful blue eyes and a complexion like a girl's. His brother, Philippe, spoiled him. He took advantage of the young man's leave of absence to show him Paris, with all its luxurious and artistic delights. He took him with him wherever he went, including the opera and ballet.
On that evening, Philippe, after applauding Daae, turned to Raoul and saw that he was quite pale.
“Don't you see,”said Raoul,“that the woman's fainting?”
“You look like fainting yourself,”said the count.“What's the matter?”
But Raoul had recovered himself and was standing up.“Let's go and see,”he said,“she never sang like that before.”
The count gave his brother a curious smiling glance and seemed quite pleased. They reached the stage and pushed through the crowd, Raoul leading the way, feeling that his heart no longer belonged to him, his face set with passion, while Count Philippe followed him with difficulty and continued to smile. At the back of the stage, the count was surprised to find that Raoul knew the way. He had never taken him to Christine's himself and came to the conclusion that Raoul must have gone there alone at some point while the count stayed talking in the lobby with Sorelli, who often asked him to wait with her until it was her time to“go on.”
Postponing his usual visit to Sorelli for a few minutes, the count followed his brother down the passage that led to Daae's dressing room. The doctor of the theater had just arrived at the moment when Raoul entered at his heels. Christine, therefore, received the aid of the one, while opening her eyes in the arms of the other. The count and many more remained crowding the doorway.“Don't you think, Doctor, that those gentlemen had better clear the room?”asked Raoul coolly.“There's no breathing here.”
“You're quite right,”said the doctor. And he sent everyone away,
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