All language subtitles for Phantom.of.the.Opera.1943.PROPER.1080p.BluRay.H264.AAC-RARBG2_Eng

Good evening,
Vercheres.

Shh!

Good evening,
Inspector.

You have missed half
of the opera, as usual.

I didn't come
to see the opera.

As usual.

- Raoul!
- Christine.

I just got back from Rouen.
Now I must talk to
you for a moment.

But I...

Raoul, I shouldn't
have left.

Christine, dear.
I hurried over to
tell you something.

- What?
- That I love you.

- Again?
- Still.

- What a wonderful
audience tonight.
- Wonderful.

And you were marvelous,
Biancarolli.

Oh, thank you.

We're having
supper tonight at
the Café de l'Opéra.

I'm terribly
sorry, Raoul,

- but I can't
tonight.
- Why not?

Chris! Christine!

I'm coming, Jenny.

If you have another
engagement tonight,
break it.

You've had your fling
at this for two years.

But I don't want to
give up the Opera.

Not until I've had
a chance to really sing.

And Anatole says
he has great faith

in my voice,
and he's going
to help me.

Naturally. That's what
baritones are for.

You're in wonderful
voice tonight, monsieur.

- Excellent.
- Thank you, Marcel.

Christine! Why weren't
you on the stage
for the end of the act?

Well, I...

- You're all right,
aren't you?
- Oh, yes.

Mademoiselle DuBois?

Come here, please.

Don't worry.

Why weren't you on the stage
for the curtain calls,
mademoiselle?

Well, I was ill...

No, you were not.

You were entertaining
a friend.
A friend, mind you!

Now, for a singer to
deliberately absent
herself from the stage

during a performance
is a gross breach of...

Oh...

You wish to talk
to me, monsieur?

With your permission,
I'd like a few words

with Mademoiselle DuBois
in my office
after the performance.

- Yes, she will
be there.
- Thank you.

Now, you bear in your
mind what I told you,
mademoiselle.

Yes, monsieur.

Terrifying fellow,
that Vercheres,
when he wants to be.

I'm very grateful,
monsieur.

I promise you
I'll never miss
a curtain call again.

It's a promise.
Now, uh...

This young man who is
more important to
you than your career...

Who is he?

But he isn't, monsieur.
That is, I'm very
fond of him... I mean...

Oh.

Well, he's
Inspector Raoul Daubert
of the Sûreté.

Inspector?
You mean a policeman?

But he's not an
ordinary policeman.

Even an extraordinary
policeman seems

a strange sweetheart
for an operatic soprano.

Does he sing?

I'm afraid you don't
understand, monsieur.

He's a graduate
of the military
academy at Saint-Cyr.

And he's very intelligent
and very clever.

For a man who
means nothing to you,

he seems to have made
quite an impression,
mademoiselle.

But I didn't say he
meant nothing to me.
What I said was...

I know.

I know what you mean.

You have promise,
Mademoiselle DuBois.

But you must choose
between an operatic career

and what is usually
called "a normal life."

Though why it is
so-called is beyond me.

You can't do
justice to both.

The artist has
a special temperament,

and he must live his life
exclusively with
those who understand it.

I understand, monsieur.

You'll find that music
has its compensations,
my dear.

Good night.

Good night.
And thank you.

Oh, Mademoiselle DuBois,
will you please tell
Monsieur Claudin to come in?

I think he's
in the anteroom.

Certainly.

Good night.

Good evening.
Monsieur Villeneuve
asked that you come in now.

Thank you,
mademoiselle.
Thank you.

Mademoiselle?
May I speak to
you for a minute?

Certainly.

You weren't on
the stage tonight

for the third-act
curtain calls.

Everyone in the theater
seems to have noticed it.

It's really quite flattering.

Why weren't you there?

Oh, forgive me,
but I've been here
so long that you...

Everybody,
everything connected with

the Opera is so
much a part of my life.

Of course. But Monsieur
Villeneuve is waiting.

Yes.

You weren't ill, were you?

You're not in any trouble?

Oh, it's impertinent
of me, I know, but, uh...

You're very kind.

Good night.

Christine!

Oh...

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Good night.

Good night.

Come in, please.

You know why I
sent for you, Claudin.

I think so, Maestro.

For some time now,
I have sensed discord
in the violin section.

It was not until tonight
that I definitely located
the source of the trouble.

Let me hear you play,
if you please, Claudin.

Yes, Maestro.

What was that,
Claudin?

A little song.
A lullaby.

From Provence,
where I was born.

You played it
very well.

Perhaps I was wrong.

No, it was you.

What could have been
the matter, Claudin?

You're an accomplished
musician.

Come, come now.

Let me hear you play
the opening movement
in the third act of Marta.

It's no use, Maestro.

Something has happened
to the fingers
of my left hand.

But you played that
lullaby perfectly.

It's a simple melody,
Maestro.

That's why I played it.

You were trying to
fool me, eh, Claudin?

Well, perhaps it's
only temporary.
Perhaps it'll get better.

I hope so,
but in the meantime...

You know, Claudin,
the aim of the Paris
Opera is perfection.

I'm sorry, old fellow.
Very sorry.

You've been with
us a long time,
haven't you?

Twenty years.

What am I to do,
Maestro?

I know it's hard, Claudin.

No doubt you've saved
a tidy little
fortune to retire on.

Yes, of course.

In appreciation of
your long service,

I shall arrange
with the directors

to have a season
ticket issued to you.

Thank you, Maestro.

Why didn't you get
yourself something to
eat before the opera

instead of keeping
me up all hours?
You're rich enough.

Same soup
night after night,
week after week.

Oh, please don't
disturb yourself, Marie.

You're a fine one
to say that.

Why wouldn't I
be disturbed?

I'll come right
to the point,
Monsieur Claudin.

What you do with
your money is
none of my business.

If you want to hoard
it and starve to death,
that's your affair.

But you haven't paid
me a sou for six weeks,

and that's as long
as I'm going to wait.

Marie, I haven't
any money. Not now.

If you'll be patient
just a little longer...

You haven't any money!

After working for
the Paris Opera
all these years?

What do you expect
to do with your money?
Bury it with you?

If you do,
they'll dig you up
and steal it.

If you think
you're going to add

a few francs to your
fortune at my expense,

you're very much
mistaken.

Marie, you've been very kind.
You've been very patient.

You'll be paid,
I promise you!

Now, please
leave me alone.

it makes me sick to
think of all that money
doing nobody any good.

Either I get my money,
or out you go!

That's my last word,
Claudin.

You are late,
Monsieur Claudin.
The lesson is almost over.

I didn't come
about that today,
mademoiselle.

She's not in voice today.

I'll tell Signor Ferretti...

Oh, please don't
interrupt the lesson.

Of course not.

I understand.

But I must
announce the time
to Signor Ferretti

or he'll keep his
students for hours.

It's 11:00,
Signor Ferretti.

Thank you.

Mademoiselle,
you disappoint
me this morning.

I'm sorry.

I'm a little upset.

If some man is upsetting you,
pitch him out of your life.

Music is first.
Music is everything.

I understand.

You don't understand.
Women never understand.

But they are docile.

Perhaps you're not
getting enough sleep.

Come later tomorrow,
say midday.

Thank you, monsieur.

Mademoiselle,
remember you have

responsibilities
to others as
well as yourself.

I know.

I can never repay you
for what you've done for me.

- Good day, monsieur.
- Good day.

Would you come
this way, monsieur?

Monsieur Claudin
is here, Signor Ferretti.

Oh! Come in, Claudin.
Come in.

Won't you sit
down a moment?

Thank you.

I suppose you noticed
your protégé was
disappointing today.

Well, an off day
now and then...

You've done a lot
for her, Signor.

Nevertheless,
she is making
definite progress, eh?

I was dismissed
from the orchestra
last night.

Oh.

Then you will have to
withdraw your support
from Mademoiselle DuBois?

Only for a little while,
just until I can
secure another position.

I had hoped that
you would continue to
instruct mademoiselle.

Claudin, if you don't
mind me saying so,
you are a fool.

A man of your age might
win a young girl like
Christine DuBois

if he happened
to be the director

of an Opera company
but a poor violinist...

Signor.

We agreed never to
discuss my motives.

Please.
Won't you continue
to work with her?

Why should I?

Why should I
assume your burden

after you spent all
your money on her?

The girl means nothing to me.

But her career
means more to me
than anything else.

I would never
let you lose anything
on her account.

I'm sorry, Claudin.
Really sorry.

If I had the time...
But my expenses are great,

and you must
remember that many

who can pay are
waiting to study with me.

Well, I'll let her
come a few times,

and then I will tell her
she no longer needs me.

But that isn't true.

As a matter of fact,
if you had the money,

she might be launched
on a career very soon.

I assume that
Mademoiselle DuBois

has not the means to pay
for her own instructions.

Why, her month's
salary wouldn't be enough

to pay for one
of your lessons.

But, uh...

But I have written
a concerto.

Now, will you trust me
if I can arrange to
have it published?

Every violinist has
written a concerto!

Come, come,
my dear Claudin.

But I have faith in this one,
as much faith as I had

in Mademoiselle DuBois
when I came to
you three years ago.

Now, I was right
about her, Signor.
And I'm right about this.

Pleyel and Desjardines
are certain to publish

it and they'll give me
a substantial advance.

You'll see.

It's a shame.
Pleyel's in there
with his etchings.

Why don't they
tell the poor devil
he won't see anyone today

instead of torturing
him like this?

Claudin.

He'll see me?

No. He is too
busy today.

Do you know whether
he's seen my manuscript?

Manuscript?
What manuscript?

My concerto.

I know nothing
about it.

Oh, but you yourself took
the portfolio into him.

If I did, you will
receive it in due time.

Now, my dear, the acid.
Be careful, or you'll
burn yourself horribly.

Monsieur Pleyel.

What are you doing here?

I've been waiting
to see you
since this morning.

Weren't you
told I couldn't
see anyone today?

Yes, but my manuscript.
I must find out
about my manuscript.

Would you mind
giving this fellow his
manuscript, Georgette?

You'll find it on the desk,
if it's anywhere.

What is your name?

Claudin. Erique Claudin.

Claudin.

No, no, no,
it wouldn't be there.

It's a large manuscript
in a portfolio.
It's a concerto.

Well, I'm sorry,
but I don't know
where it is.

Oh, but it must be here.

If it is, it will turn up.
Call again in a few days.

You don't understand,
mademoiselle.
It's the only copy I have.

It represents
two years' work.

You heard what
the lady said.

But it was brought
into this office.

It must be here!
It must be found!

Did we ask you to
bring your music to us,
Claudin?

I've seen samples of
your compositions before.

Perhaps some employee
has thrown this one

into the wastebasket,
where it belongs.

Good night!

You think I was right,
then, Monsieur Liszt?

It's magnificent.
Tell me his name again.

- Erique Claudin.
- Claudin.

I've tried for years
to persuade Pleyel
to publish his work.

But you know how
Pleyel feels about
unknown composers.

Pleyel will
publish this,
I promise.

That's my music!

I thought I told
you to get out.

Thief.

You've stolen my music.

- Thief!
- Maurice!

- You're choking him!
- You've stolen my music!

Thief! Thief!

You've stolen my music!

Argh!

What happened?

- Stop him!
- What's happened,
mademoiselle?

Monsieur Pleyel's
been murdered.

- Murdered?
- By that madman,
that Claudin.

Get a doctor, quickly!

You, get a doctor.
Somebody call the police.

You hear. Get the doctor!
Call police! Police!

Police!

Somebody stop him!

What happened?

Monsieur Pleyel
has been murdered!

He ran down that way.

Not here.

I am sorry, monsieur.

Move on and don't
come back into
this district tonight.

Lecours,

how could we ever
have been induced

to accept the
management
of this place?

It's not an opera house.
It's a madhouse.

Now this,

"Wanted for murder.
Erique Claudin,

"former violinist
at Paris Opera House.

"Age, 48 years, height 5'8.

"The face has
recently been
disfigured by acid."

It's an outrage.

After 20 years
with the Paris Opera,

this miserable Claudin
has the insolence
to commit a murder.

After 20 years
with the Paris Opera,
a man is capable

of anything,
my dear Amiot.

Come in.
Come in, come in!

Monsieur, there is
a thief in the Opera House.

Thief?

A costume has been stolen.
And two masks.

That's impossible.
That fool of

a wardrobe woman
must have lost them.

She should have been
dismissed long ago.

She's much too fat.

That's not all.
The thief has broken
into the restaurant.

- The restaurant?
- Yes, monsieur.

There's missing a...

There's missing...

There's missing
a bucket of pickled
pigs' feet in vinegar,

a ham,

and a paté.

Call the police at once.
This must be stopped!

Yes, monsieur.

Monsieur, I'm afraid
the police can't stop that.

- It's he.
- Who?

Please, don't start
that nonsense again,
Vercheres.

At your age, you ought to know
that there aren't any ghosts.

Monsieur, you are skeptical,
but I don't like ghosts.

- I'm a busy man.
- What's that?

Our brilliant stage
manager insists there's

a malicious ghost
prowling about the Opera.

If anything goes wrong,
he thinks this ghost did it!

Oh, Monsieur.

It has a long nose
and a big red beard.

You make me nervous!

It's gone.

Did you hear that, Lecours?

My master key is gone.

Do you realize what
that means, Lecours?

With that key in
his possession,

the thief can
open 2,500 doors!

To say nothing of
thousands of
closets and cabinets.

Perhaps the pickled
pigs' feet will kill him.

Oh, you don't
seem to understand.

Why, he can hide everywhere.

The entire police force
couldn't find him here.

You don't seem to
realize the extent of
this place, Lecours.

You have never taken
the trouble to find out.

Why should I?
I have troubles enough.

What are you
waiting for?

- Get the police!
- Yes, monsieur.

Paté, a ham,
pickled pigs' feet
and 2,500 rooms!

What is the
Opera coming to?

That's lovely.
What is it?

It's a lullaby of Provence.
I've known it all my life.

Hear those bells ringing

Soft and low

Bringing peace

Through the twilight glow

Calling to everyone

Night has begun

Tired from your weary toil

Day's work is done

Hear them ring

While my love and I

Drift and dream

To their lullaby

Hear those bells ringing

Soft and low

Ringing peace

Through the twilight glow

Calling to everyone

Night has...

- Monsieur Daubert.
- Madame.

They call this
rehearsing, monsieur.

I'm sorry to intrude,

but I must see you,
Christine.

Well, you see,
I'm busy right now,
Raoul.

Christine!

Please remember that
you are speaking
to a gentleman.

Well...

Come in, Raoul.

Rehearsals!

Anatole, well,
he's been helping me.

Oh, Monsieur
is very kind.

Not at all, monsieur.
I find it a pleasure.

I'm Anatole Garron
of the Opera.

Oh, I'm so sorry.
This is Inspector Daubert,
of the Sûreté.

I've heard of you,
Monsieur Inspector.
Your work must be exciting.

Not so exciting
as yours, monsieur.

It doesn't lend itself
to self-expression.

I didn't recognize that
delightful song you
were singing, Christine.

But as you know,
I am no connoisseur
of the opera.

It's not from an opera, Raoul.

It's a lullaby.

A lullaby.

It didn't seem very
effective as a lullaby.

Well, you see,
Monsieur Inspector,

a song is capable of
many interpretations
by a musician.

By a detective, too.

Though no doubt
the detective is
usually mistaken.

I must see you alone,
Christine.

I'm here on business
from the Sûreté.

With me?

What business could
mademoiselle have
with the Sûreté?

What is it, Raoul?

If you don't mind,
I'd rather Anatole stay.

Very well,
Christine.

You know
Erique Claudin?

- Well, yes.
- How well?

I knew him only
as a violinist
in the orchestra.

I encountered him
a few times in the foyer

or on the stage or
outside the Opera,

but that's all.

He... He acted
a little strangely,

but I assumed he was
that way with everybody.

Strangely?
How do you mean,
strangely?

Well... I don't know.

He just seemed eccentric,
but harmless.

I thought he was
a rather kind old fellow
until I read of the murder.

What is it, Raoul?

He was a kind and
inoffensive man,

until he thought
Pleyel was robbing
him of his life's work.

Then something snapped,
and he became
a homicidal maniac.

In his state,
he may commit
other murders.

It's urgent that
we capture him as
soon as possible.

But... But what has all
this to do with me?

We found something
in his room

that connects
you with him.

No doubt,
you can explain.

So that's what
became of it.

Be good enough to
explain yourself,
monsieur.

Well, certainly.
That statuette is mine.

- Yours?
- Definitely. I made it.

I intended to make
you a present of it,
Christine.

How nice of you, Anatole.

Unfortunately,
it disappeared
from my dressing room.

It's an extraordinary
likeness.

My compliments on
your versatility,
monsieur.

You must have posed
for this many times.

Every detail is you.

I never posed for it.
Not once.

You did this
from drawings?

- And from memory,
Monsieur Inspector.
- Oh.

To see Christine is
to carry her image

in your heart
and mind forever.

That old scoundrel
Claudin must
have stolen it.

Why?

Isn't it obvious?

Speaking purely as an
inspector of the Sûreté,

I'm afraid that even
the obvious often
needs confirmation.

But as a man,
Monsieur Daubert,
you can understand that

sitting there in
the orchestra pit

night after night and
looking at Christine,

Claudin probably
fell in love with her.

You admit that
is possible, no?

Christine,

Claudin ever seek
more than a casual
acquaintance with you?

No, never.

Can you imagine so
diffident a lover,
monsieur?

Claudin was barely 50.

Well, no doubt
he lacked assurance.

No doubt.

This is yours,
Christine.

- You're giving
it to me?
- Yes.

Well!

Then I'll accept it as
a gift from both of you.

Well, I seem to
have got the worse
of this bargain.

In the future,
Monsieur Inspector,
I detect, you model.

In any case, monsieur,
that was a bad clue.

Not so bad
as it seems.

It enabled me to recover
mademoiselle's statuette.

Thank you, Raoul.

Is that your
carriage at the door,
monsieur?

Why, yes.

Would you be
good enough to
give me a lift?

Which way are
you going, monsieur?

Oh, it doesn't matter.
As Inspector of Police,

I have business
all over Paris.

Yes, well,
in that case...

- Au revoir,
Christine.
- Au revoir.

You've been most
helpful, Christine.
Most helpful.

- I hope you
catch him soon.
- Thank you.

Ready, monsieur?

At your service.

After you, monsieur.

After you, monsieur.

Madame looks
beautiful tonight.

Don't I always,
Yvette?

But especially
tonight, madame.

Monsieur Garron,
if he has eyes
in his head...

- Madame Biancarolli, please.
- The first act just started.

Thank you. Madame.

Good evening.

Marcel, do you think I
lead an enviable life?

Yes, monsieur.

Well, I do,
but not for reasons
you're thinking.

I'm a very happy
man because I'm having

supper tonight with
Mademoiselle DuBois.

Christine?

You're going to be
a great and famous singer.

I'll help you.

Christine,
you're going to be a
great and famous singer.

I'll help you.

What's the matter?

Why, someone
just said the very

same thing to me
a moment ago in my room.

Someone? Who?

I don't know.
It was just a voice.

I knew you'd hear
me sooner or later.

- You mean it was you?
- Of course.

I don't mean actually
but I've been saying

that ever since I saw
you and heard you sing.

And at last,
you heard me.

Your cue, monsieur.

I'll tell you again
tonight, at supper.

What is it, madame?

I don't know. I...

Help me!

Monsieur Vercheres!

Madame.

You, get the doctor.
Quickly.

Take her to her
dressing room.

What could
have happened?

What?

Quick!

Mademoiselle DuBois,
you must go on at once.

Madame Biancarolli
has been taken ill.
Please get changed quickly.

Claire! Claire!
Where is that
clumsy wardrobe woman?

Claire, get Mademoiselle
DuBois changed at once.

There isn't
a moment to lose.

She was drugged.
There's no doubt about it.

Now, who the devil
would want to drug her?

I'm sure she over-ate.

You're certain
she'll recover,
Dr. Lefort?

Definitely.

What am I doing here?
I...

I should be onstage! I...

- Doctor!
- Madame...

She'll be all right now.

Why is she singing?
What is she
doing out there?

What's happened?

Please, madame,
control yourself.
I assure you that...

Come to the point, Amiot.

You were seized with
a touch of indigestion.

As your understudy,
Mademoiselle DuBois
naturally took your place.

A touch of indigestion!
Why, I was perfectly well
when I went on the stage.

- Why, I was drugged.
- Oh...

And you all
know by whom.

Anatole Garron
did it to make room
for that baggage.

Madame, consider
what you're saying!

Madame, please,
compose yourself.

I demand Garron's arrest,
and hers, too.
She had a hand in it.

- I demand an investigation.
- Please, madame.

Let me go!

Madame, consider
our position.

You were wonderful!

I assure you, monsieur,
the property man swears that

there was no opportunity
for any human being to
tamper with the drinks.

Monsieur Inspector,
what are you waiting for?

I demand the arrest
of Anatole Garron.
You know he did it.

I know nothing
of the sort, madame.

I am a police officer,
not a psychic.

It is my duty to
collect evidence,
without prejudice.

Well, haven't you
evidence enough?
Everyone knows...

Madame! Will you
be seated, please?

It is true,
Monsieur Garron,

that you had the
opportunity of placing

the drug in Madame
Biancarolli's glass.

Certainly,
Monsieur Inspector.

We all did.

It becomes, then,
a question of motive.

The motive is
very simple, monsieur.

He wanted to get
me out of the way

so he could make
room for that little...

Are you referring to
Mademoiselle DuBois?
I am.

You heard, Monsieur Garron.

Madame is in good voice,

and most explicit.

Have you anything
to say, monsieur?

I deny madame's accusation.

Do you deny, monsieur,
that you had any motive
in drugging madame?

I deny that I drugged her.

I don't understand
your reluctance

to make the arrest,
Monsieur Inspector.

You're not an
examining magistrate.

Can you substantiate
your charge that

Monsieur Garron
had a motive
in drugging you,

and that the motive
was Mademoiselle DuBois?

Why, anybody with
half an eye would be
able to tell you...

Hearsay is not
evidence, madame.

I'll go over your head,
Monsieur Daubert!

I have influence
at the Sûreté.

I was drugged tonight
to the point of death,

and I insist upon
the arrest of the criminal
and his accomplice.

- And if you don't, I...
- One moment, madame.
Please.

You have heard
Monsieur Garron deny
that he drugged you.

As the inspector says,
there is no evidence
to warrant an arrest.

- And remember...
- Are you suggesting
that I...

And remember, madame,

if you insist upon
his arrest and fail
to obtain a conviction,

you will find yourself
in a very, very
difficult predicament.

Quite right.

And no matter what
the outcome, don't forget

that your career is
bound to the Paris Opera.

Whatever scandal
injures us or any member

of the company will
injure you as well.

Precisely.

Are you suggesting
that I forget
the whole affair?

Yes.

For your own sake
as well as ours,

and purely as a matter
of business expediency,
if nothing else.

That is exactly what
we propose, madame.

Exactly.

Very well.

That is,
under certain conditions.

I want a new understudy.

Christine DuBois
goes back to the chorus

and stays there
for the two years my
contract has to run.

I won't permit it.
I'll not stand
for such an outrage.

If any such arrangement
is made, I'll...

My dear Anatole,
I have not finished.

You suggest I forget
I was drugged tonight,
monsieur?

- Madame.
- Very well,
I'll go a step further.

I suggest that
you forget anything
happened afterwards.

For once, madame,
I do not understand.

Oh, Monsieur Lecours,
it's so simple.

Nothing happened tonight.

I wasn't drugged.

And Christine
DuBois didn't sing.

But...

Madame,
there are always
critics in the house.

You'll send word to
the paper that no mention
of her is to be made.

You'll do nothing
of the sort.
It's ridiculous.

Besides, what about
the public, madame?

Shall we send word to
the public to forget

that Mademoiselle
DuBois was a sensation?

If you're willing to
ruin the opera for the

sake of Christine DuBois,
that's your affair.

But you'll either do
as I say, or I'll charge

both of them with
trying to murder me.

Do you understand that?
"Murder me."

Madame was
magnificent tonight.

I was good, wasn't I?

Monsieur Garron must
be biting his nails.

Let him.

He'll come crawling
back to me on
his hands and knees,

confessing the whole thing
and begging my forgiveness.

Madame!

Who are you?

Christine DuBois will
sing tomorrow night.

Leave Paris.

This is your last warning.

Take off that prop room mask!

- What was that?
- I don't know.

- What is it?
What happened?
- Shh!

Monsieur?

Madame Biancarolli
and her maid
have been murdered.

Murdered?

- Are you hurt?
- What happened?

What were you doing?

I was chasing him.

- Chasing whom?
- The murderer, of course.

Do you mean
to imply there was
someone else up there?

Why, certainly.
Everyone must've seen...

You saw him yourself,
didn't you?

No, monsieur.
I was chasing you.

But how long will
the Opera remain closed,
Monsieur Inspector?

- Yes, how long?
- I do not know.

- Are there any suspects?
- Yes. Whom do
the police suspect?

There is no one.

What is your
theory on the
motive, monsieur?

I am not a theorist.

All I can tell you is
that as long as the Opera
House remains closed,

everyone in all Paris,
in all France,

will be thinking of
nothing but the murder

and hounding us
to make an arrest.

Inspector Daubert.

I came directly.
I got your message.

What has happened now?

Listen to this,
monsieur.

"Christine DuBois
must replace Biancarolli,

"who chose to
ignore my warning."

I found this mysteriously
placed on my desk
after we got back from supper.

There is an excellent
suggestion in this,
monsieur.

You must reopen
the Opera at once.

But, monsieur,
your orders...

I'll countermand it.
You must reopen.

With Mademoiselle DuBois,
monsieur?

Of course.
That should pacify
this madman.

And if he doesn't
harm anybody,

his being in the
building doesn't matter.

Christine DuBois
must not sing, monsieur.

What?

And the murderer
must not be permitted to

remain in the
building indefinitely.

It is my duty
to apprehend him.

I don't understand.

If Christine DuBois sings,
that will satisfy

the murderer,
and he may never appear.

So to lure him
from his hiding place,
someone else must sing.

Are you suggesting
that we reopen the Opera

with a murder as
an added attraction?

Please, Lecours, the...

I shall post police
throughout the building,

even with the
chorus on the stage,

with a special
bodyguard for the singer.

But, monsieur,
our reputation...

I am reluctant to
do this, monsieur,

particularly on
Mademoiselle DuBois' account,

but I can see
no other way.

And whom do you
suggest as bait,
Monsieur Inspector?

Whomever you decide.

Madame Morency.
She has nerve,
that woman.

- Too much.
- Very well, then.

The Opera will reopen.

Yes, monsieur.

Oh.

- Good morning, Christine.
- Good morning, Christine.

Good morning.

- May I come in, Christine?
- May I come in, Christine?

Yes.Do.

Well?

- Christine, I...
- Christine, I...

Yes?
If I might have
a word with you...

- What is it?
- After you, monsieur.

- Christine, I...
- Christine, I...

Well, now, one at
a time, please.

You first, Anatole,
because your name
begins with an "A."

They're going to
reopen the Opera,
Christine.

At last, you and I
are going to sing...

You are wrong, monsieur.
I'm sorry, Christine.

They are going to
reopen the Opera,
but without you.

Circumstances
connected with the
murder of Biancarolli

demand that someone else
sing the role in your place.

- But Anatole...
- Really?

You may be
interested to know,
Monsieur Daubert,

that circumstances
connected with
the murder of

Biancarolli demand
that Christine does sing.

Really?

I am aware that your
profession requires
a certain self-assurance,

but aren't you
going too far?

Not at all.

I have a plan
of my own for
apprehending the murderer.

So you have turned
detective, monsieur?

I have.

Very well,
if it amuses you.

But I advise you to
confine your hobby

to the entertainment of
yourself and your friends.

Now let's not
waste words, monsieur.

I've been assured by
Messieurs Amiot and Lecours

that as soon as
the Opera reopens,
Mademoiselle DuBois will sing.

And I might add
that my plan is
strictly confidential.

I'm sorry, Christine,
but in my
official capacity,

I have had to
order Messieurs Amiot

and Lecours not to
permit you to sing.

- But Raoul...
- At least not for the present.

And I am not in
the least interested
in your plan.

May I have a word with
you alone, Christine?

That's what I came for.
May I speak to you alone,
Christine?

But I'm going out.

- My carriage is outside.
- My carriage is outside.

Well, I'm not
going right now.

I mean,
I'm going later.

- I'll wait.
- I'll wait.

Monsieur Villeneuve suggested

you might be willing
to perform this service
in the cause of justice.

Do you really
think this Claudin

would be tempted to
leave his hiding place

and risk his life
merely to hear
his own concerto?

Played by Franz Liszt himself?
Do you doubt it, Maestro?

So many crimes
have been committed
in the name of music.

It seems only fair to
use it now to avert one.

I'm at your service,
monsieur.

Thank you, Maestro.
Thank you.

Most exciting,
this detective work.
Most exciting.

Well, it's more
than exciting to me.

I had the honor
of being suspected
of the crime.

Monsieur
Daubert. Please.

- Listen to this, monsieur.
- Another note.

How this phantom
knows everything
is beyond me.

"If Madame Lorenzi sings,
you will be responsible
for what happens.

"This is your last warning."

Our plan is
succeeding, then.

I don't like it, monsieur.
I don't like it.

What is to become
of the Paris Opera?

Policemen everywhere.
It's worse than a racetrack.

How is Madame Lorenzi?

She's enjoying it.
Nothing will keep
her from singing now.

Well, you know how
opera singers are.

What with your
matron from the Sûreté
in her dressing room

and that sphinx-like
fellow of yours

waiting to escort
her to the stage,

she feels quite important.

Madame Lorenzi,
I trust you're
entirely composed.

Composed?

What are you
talking about?

Why not?

Maestro.

The piano has just
been tuned, Maestro.

And when do we
introduce the concerto?

Probably after the opera.

Inspector Daubert
has a plan of his own,

and we must give
it every chance.

Perhaps you'd enjoy
seeing the opera
from the orchestra pit.

Thank you, gentlemen.
If you don't mind,

I'll be quite
comfortable here.

It'll give me the opportunity
to look through the score.

Excuse me.
The overture.

Thank you again,
Maestro.

You men are to remain onstage
throughout the performance.

You are to make yourselves
as inconspicuous as possible

and be on the alert
for anything suspicious.

The only persons who
have business backstage

are the members of
the Opera company,
all of whom you know.

That is all.

Christine,
I'd much rather
you'd stayed at home.

Surely you understand
why I asked them not
to let you sing tonight.

But I couldn't
stay away.

We're introducing a new opera,
and Madame Lorenzi is
a great artist, and...

And Anatole Garron
is the baritone.

I'm sorry, Christine.

But I'm really concerned
about what may happen tonight.

I know. I am, too.

Wait for me, please,
in your dressing room.

I'm sorry.

He's here, Gerard.

He's murdered
one of our men
and stolen his cape.

He's probably wearing
one of the masks.
Watch everyone closely.

Of course, monsieur.

I'm sorry.

What is it?

Come with me,
mademoiselle.

Are you one
of the police?

Where is
Inspector Daubert?

He's investigating
the cause of the accident.
I will look after you.

You're not
one of the police.

Don't be frightened.
I'll watch over you.

I've always watched
over you. Come.

Shh!

You'll stay here
with me, my child,
won't you?

It's been so
lonely without you,

but you've come to me
at last, haven't you?

Now you'll sing for me,
and I'll play.

And we'll be
together forever.

It's beautiful
down there.

Beautiful.

Come now, my little one.

Christine?

Where's Christine?

Oh, I don't know.
Isn't it horrible?

- Hasn't she been here?
- I haven't seen her.

There.

You're not frightened
now, are you?

You know I'll not
harm you, don't you?

How could I harm you?
I've always helped you.

Haven't I?

Yes.

Yes, what?

Yes, you've always
helped me.

Of course I have.
Biancarolli knows.

She wouldn't let you sing.

She didn't know
how much I love you.

Now she knows.

But it doesn't
matter now.

Nothing matters
except you and me,
Christine.

Now you'll sing
all you want,

but only for me.

You will,
won't you, my darling?

Of course.

There's a piano
in the Opera foyer.
Let's go there.

You play,
and I'll sing for you.

But you don't understand.

We can't go back there ever.

It was I who made
the chandelier fall.

I for you, Christine.
But I warned them.

I told them there'd be
death and destruction

if they didn't
let you sing. Come.

See?

Didn't I tell you
it was beautiful?

You didn't know
we had a lake all to
ourselves, did you?

They've poisoned
your mind against me.

That's why you're afraid.

Look at your lake,
Christine.

You'll love it here
when you get used
to the dark.

And you'll love
the dark, too.

It's friendly
and peaceful.

It brings rest and
relief from pain.

It's right under the Opera.

The music comes
down in the darkness,
distills it.

Cleanses it of
the suffering
that made it.

And it's all beauty.

And life here is
like a resurrection.

Gentlemen, this is more
than just a performance
of a new concerto.

The whole future
of the Paris Opera
may depend upon it.

Garron. Garron, have
you seen Christine?

No. She's at home.

She came to
the Opera House
earlier this evening.

Now she's disappeared.
We can't find her anywhere.

Play, Maestro.

Play.

Christine?

Christine?

Christine?

Christine?

Christine!

Georges, you two
search that passageway.
Gerard, go that way.

Be careful.
This madman may
do anything now.

Christine!

Christine!

My concerto.

Liszt is playing.

That was a brilliant
idea of yours, Garron.

Perhaps Claudin is up
there now, listening.

It sounds in front of us.

It is in front of us.

The whole place is
ready to crumble.

Sing, Christine.

Sing.

Don't move.

The whole place
is caving in.

The shots must've
started it.

He called that
his concerto,

and yet it's written around
the melody of my song.

Who was he?

He came from your
district in Provence.

Everybody there
must have known
that old folk song.

He was almost
a stranger to me,

and yet somehow

I always felt
drawn to him

with a kind of pity,

understanding.

His suffering
and madness
will be forgotten.

His music,
his concerto
will remain.

I... I'm glad he
heard it before he...

Poor Claudin.

Oh, mademoiselle.
You were
magnificent tonight!

Thank you, Celeste.
I was good, wasn't I?

Oh, wonderful!

Celeste.

Oh!

You were magnificent,
Christine.

Incomparable, beautiful.
A sensation!

Is that all?

I've just begun.
It would take
days and years

to tell you how
superb you were.

We're having supper tonight
at the Café de l'Opéra.

Well,

I'm terribly sorry,
Anatole,

but I can't tonight.

- Why not? Have you
another engagement?
- Yes.

With whom?

With Raoul.

That policeman?

Come in.

Christine?

Oh.

Oh.

- Christine...
- Christine...

You two know each other,
of course.

- Of course.
- Of course.

Well, how soon will
you be ready, Christine?
The carriage is waiting.

I know Monsieur
Garron will excuse us.

- Anatole has just
asked me to supper too.
- No doubt.

You won't be long,
will you, Christine?

I have an idea.

Why can't we three
have supper together?
It's all ordered, isn't it?

I am not in the habit of
taking baritones to supper.

And I do not care
to be seen in public
with the police.

Christine, you'll
have to make up your mind

finally and irrevocably
between the two of us.

Precisely.

Don't push, monsieur.

No, no, no.
Mademoiselle is very...

Excuse me.

Don't push,
monsieur. Please.

Would you join me
for a bit of supper
at the Café de l'Opéra?

With pleasure,
monsieur.

Think we can get
through this crowd?

Certainly. After all,
who'd pay any attention
to a baritone and a detective?

Quite right.

After you, monsieur.

After you, monsieur.