Carlotta heard rumours about a ghost haunting the opera house. She'd heard about them ever since she'd arrived in Paris. "Watch out of the opera ghost will get you" was a common saying to any mis-behaving employee – and it usually worked. Any little thing that went wrong at the opera was met with the ever-popular "he's here!" or "it was
the opera ghost!", thus absolving the real trickster from any responsibility for their crime.
And like most of those in the theatre profession, Carlotta wasn't immune to the trappings of superstition. She would always enter the stage area with her right foot going over the threshhold first. But she didn't quite believe in this particular ghost. There were enough people in the building and enough hiding places, so she figured that most everything had a more earthly – and human – explanation.
The principal soprano, after all, had more things to worry about than little pranks. There were her patrons, the never- ending flow of letters from her admirers, the daily vocal exercises designed to keep her voice in perfect shape, fending off potential rivals for her position, and, of course, keeping up with the latest fashions. The prima donna of the Paris
Opera was expected to always be at the height of fashion. There simply wasn't time to worry about a prankster ghost.
So when rumours reached her ears of the ghost demanding a box left empty and a salary, she didn't believe it. She didn't know why M. Lefevre obeyed the ghost, but as long as she got paid, she didn't much care.