By early November in Paris, the weather had turned decidedly cool.
Plane tree leaves drifted from both banks of the Seine, adding a touch of desolation to the city.
However, inside the "Sainte-Marthe Society's" prayer room, there was no hint of chill; a roaring fireplace kept the space as warm as spring.
On the main altar, before an old, somewhat aged piano, young Achille-Claude Debussy took a deep breath, his fingertips lightly touching the black and white keys.
He didn't start immediately, instead closing his eyes first, seemingly reciting the melody that had been integrated into his soul for weeks.
Below the stage sat several solemn-looking visitors.
Leading them was a man of about fifty, dressed in black ordinary attire, with a silver crucifix hanging on his chest, his gaze carrying the scrutiny of someone long accustomed to authority.
He was Monsignor Jean-Baptiste Vallet, the special envoy personally appointed by the new Archbishop of Paris, Louis-Antoine-Augustin Gibert. (Monsignor is an honorary title bestowed upon priests in the Catholic Church).
Beside him sat two accompanying individuals, also dressed in black: a slightly younger priest, Étienne Lafargue, responsible for records and paperwork; and Brother Duclos, who had considerable expertise in music and theatre.
Lionel, meanwhile, sat in a corner, his posture relaxed, eyes downcast, as if unconcerned with anything happening on stage.
Debussy's fingertips finally moved.
A tranquil, soothing prelude flowed out, as if the night sky was slowly unfurling.
The notes were pure and ethereal, carrying a comforting magic that instantly captivated the hearts of all listeners.
After the prelude, Debussy began to sing.
He didn't possess the grand voice of a professional vocalist, but his voice, with the clarity and sincerity unique to a youth, blended perfectly with the music:
"Oh, night has just descended upon the earth,
Your magical, secret, tranquil power.
The encircling shadows, how gentle and sweet,
How gentle—is your message singing of hope,
How great—is your divine power that turns everything into joyous dreams…"
The lyrics seemed to carry light, and the melody, like gentle wings, softly enveloped the audience below.
Monsignor Vallet leaned back slightly, closed his eyes, and unconsciously tapped a gentle rhythm on his knee.
Father Lafargue forgot his notes, his quill suspended in mid-air.
Brother Duclos's mouth hung open, his eyes sparkling with wonder, as if he were hearing angels sing.
Debussy continued to sing, his emotions growing fuller:
"Oh, night still envelops the earth,
Your magical, secret, tranquil power.
The encircling shadows, how gentle and sweet,
Is it not more beautiful than a dream,
Is it not more worthy of hope than an expectation…"
As the last note slowly faded, a prolonged silence fell over the room.
Brother Duclos was the first to break the silence:
"Magnificent!"
He applauded softly:
"Perfect! Absolutely a divine melody! Mr. Sorel, Mr. Debussy, this piece, 'Night'… it possesses the power to strike directly at the soul! It perfectly encapsulates the hope and tranquility that faith can bring in a long night!"
Monsignor Vallet slowly opened his eyes, his gaze clearly moved.
He looked at Debussy, his tone carrying rare admiration:
"Young man, your musical talent is astonishing. This piece… it reminds me of those quiet nights in the monastery, moments accompanied only by prayer and hymns. It is full of sacredness, yet so close to the human heart."
He then turned to Lionel:
"Mr. Sorel, based solely on this core piece of music, I can already sense the yearning for light and redemption that you have poured into this 'Chorus.'
It certainly sounds like a… hmm… profound and beautiful tribute to the value of faith."
Father Lafargue also nodded eagerly:
"Yes, Monsignor. The musical portion is impeccable, filled with a power that purifies the heart. This is truly a masterpiece capable of moving all believers, and even touching those who are lost."
Lionel bowed slightly:
"Thank you very much for your affirmation, Monsignor Vallet, Brother Duclos, Father Lafargue.
Achille and I have always hoped that music could be the core vehicle for conveying hope in this play.
We believe that only the purest beauty can touch the deepest emotions within the audience."
Debussy also rose from the piano, bowing somewhat shyly to everyone.
However, the harmonious atmosphere in the room quickly underwent a subtle change.
Monsignor Vallet lightly cleared his throat, crossed his fingers in front of him, and resumed his previous cautious demeanor.
His tone shifted, becoming slightly concerned:
"But, Mr. Sorel, while music is certainly the language of heaven, capable of directly touching the soul. Drama… is ultimately a secular art built upon characters, plot, and conflict.
We have enjoyed the music, and we have also had an initial reading of the script… I must say, regarding some specific treatments within the script, we still have some… reservations."
Lionel's expression remained unchanged:
"Please speak frankly, Monsignor. I believe honest communication will help us achieve a better understanding."
Monsignor Vallet glanced at Father Lafargue, who immediately took the thick manuscript of the 'Chorus' script from his briefcase and turned to the marked pages.
Monsignor Vallet weighed his words:
"Firstly, concerning Father Rachin… the head of this boarding school, a priest. We must admit that this character, as you have portrayed him, his management style… hmm… appears overly harsh. For instance, here—"
Father Lafargue interjected, reading a passage from the script:
[(Scene: Classroom at "Fond de l'Étang Boarding School". Pierre is being punished by Father Rachin for a prank.)
Father Rachin: "A mistake, another mistake. Morhange, your foolishness and indolence are deeply rooted in your soul like a persistent disease. It seems mere copying cannot cleanse your filth.
Now, to the isolation room. No light, no sound, only you and your head full of paste for company. Until you truly feel the sting of remorse. May the Lord have mercy on you in that darkness."
(Pierre trembled with fear and was led away by a worker.)]
After reading, Father Lafargue looked up, his brows tightly furrowed:
"Mr. Sorel, is such a method of punishment, and such language… perhaps too… negative?
This seems inconsistent with the image of 'benevolent guidance' that we wish to portray for a reformatory under church management.
It could easily lead the audience to misunderstand the church, believing that we advocate a discipline that… lacks love and tolerance."
Brother Duclos's tone was relatively milder, but equally filled with concern:
"And his attitude towards the choir. Mr. Clément setting up a choir was originally a good deed, guiding children through beauty and goodness.
But Father Rachin repeatedly obstructed it, even denouncing it as 'useless noise' and 'indulgence deviating from the right path.'
This… this seems to create a huge disconnect with the sacredness that music itself brings.
The audience will wonder why a priest would resist something so clearly capable of bringing positive change?"
Monsignor Vallet looked sharply at Lionel:
"Mr. Sorel, we understand that drama requires conflict. But does such a portrayal overly amplify negative elements?
Does it truly help to showcase the theme of 'redemption' you spoke of?
Or… will it, to some extent, weaken or even distort the 'favorable' effect we hope to achieve?"
Lionel patiently listened to all the criticisms, showing no displeasure or panic on his face.
He even waited a few seconds, ensuring that they had fully expressed themselves, before slowly speaking, his tone calm and confident.
(End of Chapter)