Here's another translation of one of my fanfictions, Une dernière bonté du Fantôme de l'Opéra, starring Meg Giry, her husband and... Gaston Leroux himself! I hope you'll enjoy it. Please leave me a comment if you want to give me some suggestions for the following chapters (I already wrote the second one, but nothing more... so, don't be afraid to submit your ideas and wishes, I usually consider them). =)

A little disclaimer, as always: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra belongs to Gaston Leroux - and, by the way, Gaston Leroux also belongs to Gaston Leroux... Only Henri de Castelot-Barbezac belongs to me (except his name, which was given in the novel). However, many of the characters will be a little different, compared to the book, because... Yeah, you know, they're 30 years older... x)

I

Where we learn that the story
of the Phantom of the Opera's acts
maybe isn't over

The final lines of my novel were barely published in the last issue of the Le Gaulois newspapers, when I received a visit from the baron Henri de Castelot-Barbezac, whose wife, Marguerite Jules, elder daughter of madame Giry, helped me so efficiently while investigating the mystery of the Phantom of the Opera. Making my enquiries, I soon considered the baron only as the husband of one of my witnesses, an onlooker amongst others, by no means involved in the case I was trying to solve. I ignored, at this time, how wrong I could be. Anyway, surprised to see him, I invited him to come in.

I have to clarify as for now that this baron Henri de Castelot-Barbezac, descending from an ancient noble Gascon family, was at this time a man in his fifties, with a craggy face, surrounded by pepper and salt sideburns, but looking quite affable; he also was a little paunchy. All in all, he embodied that ancient, gentrified nobility, neither society, nor decadent. Even if his marriage once was the talk of the town, baron Henry always remained kind of an aesthetes, sophisticated and quiet, although often quite blasé. The anxiety on his face immediately told me something was very wrong.

Without further ado, I offered him a cognac – the lengthy discussions I had with his wife allowed us those kind of familiarities – and enquired about the reason why he came here. It was enough to draw out his anxieties.

"Monsieur Leroux… When you asked Marguerite about the events of 1881, to support your narration of the Phantom of the Opera's adventures… I have to confess, I listened to all of her narrations with entertainment. My wife belongs to the corps de ballet, you know it, and she loves theatrics. I always thought those ghost stories only were backstage gossips amongst others, one of those the late madame Giry – God rest her! – used to tell, to blow her own trumpets, as they say, amongst the superstitious opera cast! Therefore, I usually nodded my head, gravely, without parading, to my wife's fantasies. Do I have to tell you I enjoyed them? To tell you they entertained me? Marguerite's mind, monsieur Leroux, always fascinated me with its inventiveness: we are married for thirty years, and I never felt bored in her company…"

Then, the baron threw himself in a lengthy digression about Marguerite de Castelot-Barbezac, the love he felt for her since the very first day, and the way he proved to the whole world the true nature of his feelings, by marrying her. I couldn't wait to listen to the rest of the story, to the explanation of his visit; however, the baron's excitement was so intense, that I preferred not to interrupt him. I refilled his glass with cognac.

"Monsieur Leroux – he finally said, after ten long minutes of verbal wandering – I read your novel… and I suddenly felt stupid, because, for so long, I laughed up my sleeve while listening to my wife's tales. Now, you convinced me: the Phantom of the Opera really existed. Therefore, of Marguerite's and her mother's stories' truthfulness…"

His look suddenly darkened.

"… And if those stories are true, monsieur Leroux… My marriage is a mockery."

Stunned, I looked at baron Henri's face, now distraught; at his gaze, deeply saddened; and I wasn't able to understand what caused them. He noticed my astonishment, smiled sadly, and carried on with his story.

"Your investigation did not bring you back in the end of 1881, monsieur Leroux: in November 1881, I married Marguerite, despite all the social conventions in force. I had met her… a few months before, monsieur. Ten days after Raoul de Chagny's disappearance. Oh! I already hear you say: 'come on, monsieur de Castelot-Barbezac, it might only be a coincidence…' But you know it just as me, monsieur Leroux: HE promised madame Giry that her daughter would become an empress… Do you remember? Marguerite gave you that little piece of paper her mother entrusted her. What a coincidence, don't you think so? The dancer having ahead of her a so brilliant future was precisely the one falling into the arms of someone like me…"

My answered aimed to reassure him, instead of convincing me.

"Monsieur le baron, I said, you know it better than me: destiny always plays a role… When Erik let Christine Daaé and the vicomte de Chagny go towards the North of the World, he signed his own death warrant. He put some things in order, as you read it, and gave back to the managers of the Opera House their twenty thousand francs. Then, he sealed off the entries of the Lake House, except one: the hidden pathway in the rue Scribe, the one he took to go one last time above the ground… when I went to the Persan, to tell the end of his story. He died a month and a half after his tragedy's outcome… No, monsieur de Castelot-Barbezac, I don't think Erik orchestrated your wedding with Marguerite Giry. And even if he actually did, it can't falsify your wife's true feelings…"

"Perhaps, you are right, monsieur Leroux. Perhaps, you are right… It's only a coincidence, as unbelievable as it can be… Yet, I have doubts, monsieur Leroux. Atrocious ones. My wife never was ambitious, or, at least, I never believed she were… How could she lie to me for thirty years? Maybe, certainly, you are right… After all, I met her at the Opera's masquerade. She was sitting at a table, with three other dancers. My former friend, Amédée d'Anquetil, was one of those ladies' lover… His mistress introduced him to Marguerite… He invited her to dance, only for form. Then, she waltzed with me. She was thin, graceful, despite her sallow face and her lean, boyish body… I ignored, then, that I was dancing with my future wife. I even ignored, that I was going to fall in love with her! My friend teased me, all night long, about that little dancer, who wasn't even pretty. Then, one thing leading to another… Perhaps, you are right, monsieur Leroux. Amédée d'Anquetil's banter's surely played a greater role in my marriage, than the hypothetic acts of the Phantom of the Opera… But I still have doubt…"

I wasn't use to see the baron Henri de Castelot-Barbezac so filled with emotions. Therefore, I tried one last time to comfort him.

"My dear baron, if you grant me the authorisation, I will try my best to shed light on the Phantom of the Opera's last acts, immediately before his death. I hope to relieve you from your doubts."

"Thanks, monsieur Leroux, many, many thanks!"

The gratitude I saw on his face was truly moving. After some civilities, I saw the baron to the door, and he left in his car. I went back in my office. Curiously, I started to share the doubts the respectable husband of the Little Meg felt… The coincidence, too important, between their first meeting and the end of the Phantom of the Opera's acts… Shall I confess, that renew with this enigma, this recently closed case file, was filling me with enthusiasm? My investigation would surely be complicated, because almost every protagonist of the tragedy were already dead: madame Jeanne Giry, the box five's usherette, died with the 19th-century; the vicomte de Chagny and Christine Daaé had left forever; as for the Phantom himself, his body was still resting in the cellars of the opera house. The Persan was also dead, not long ago. But some important witnesses, including Meg Giry herself, were still alive. However, I decided to begin my investigation where she met the baron for the first time, at the masquerade…

And that's it! See you soon for the next chapter!

... Wait, there's a question for you: how do you think Erik managed to push Meg into Henri's arms? ^^