The thing happened so quickly that Mme. Giry,
when in the passage, was still quite bewildered and seemed not
to understand. But, suddenly, she understood; and the Opera
rang with her indignant yells, her violent protests and threats.
About the same time, Carlotta, who had a small house of her own
in the Rue du Faubourg St. Honore, rang for her maid, who brought
her letters to her bed. Among them was an anonymous missive,
written in red ink, in a hesitating, clumsy hand, which ran:
If you appear to-night, you must be prepared for a great misfortune
at the moment when you open your mouth to sing...a misfortune
worse than death.
The letter took away Carlotta's appetite for breakfast.
She pushed back her chocolate, sat up in bed and thought hard.
It was not the first letter of the kind which she had received,
but she never had one couched in such threatening terms.
She thought herself, at that time, the victim of a thousand jealous
attempts and went about saying that she had a secret enemy who had
sworn to ruin her. She pretended that a wicked plot was being hatched
against her, a cabal which would come to a head one of those days;
but she added that she was not the woman to be intimidated.
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