The deep crimson velvet curtain rose heavily and slowly, its subtle friction sound clearly audible in the suddenly silent Richelieu Hall.
The stage lights were not fully on; only a few cold-toned beams outlined a grim, solemn, almost oppressive spatial silhouette.
Tall dark wooden walls, narrow stained-glass windows, neatly arranged crude desks and chairs—
The set of "The Bottom of the Pond Boarding School" instantly cast a familiar chill into the hearts of many audience members.
A low, slow organ melody, carrying a hint of ominous foreboding, wafted from the orchestra pit, further establishing the somber tone.
In a box, Madame Rothschild nodded slightly, whispering to her husband beside her:
"This set is very realistic, isn't it? It reminds me of some places I've visited..."
In another box, Count Rohan was concerned not only with the play itself but also with the propaganda significance of "secular education" it carried, which was closely related to his career.
He noted the details of the stage set—the deliberately created confinement and oppression perfectly echoed the theme Lionel had described to him.
Madame Zweig, Ida, was slightly shaken by this gloomy opening, unconsciously clutching her husband's hand;
Moritz Zweig beside her was more focused on stage technology and music, murmuring,
"This music is quite interesting..."
Archbishop Gibault sat in his private box, his face serene, with a touch of reserved appreciation.
Brother Duroc's report and earlier rehearsal clips had assured him that this was a play demonstrating the "necessity of strict discipline" by the church and "the ultimate redemption of the unruly through sacred music."
In his eyes, this low opening music and solemn set showed the dullness of "The Bottom of the Pond" before divine grace shone upon it, setting the stage for the subsequent "redemption."
He nodded slightly, whispering to Monsignor Valette:
"The atmosphere is quite solemn."
For the larger number of ordinary audience members in the stalls and balcony, this atmosphere evoked more personal and bitter memories.
Many middle-aged and elderly gentlemen subconsciously furrowed their brows, while ladies gently fanned themselves with their programs, as if to disperse the mildewy smell peculiar to boarding schools that lingered in their memories.
Many of them had experiences in similar church boarding schools or reformatories.
Strict religious rules, cold corporal punishment, endless prayers and confessions...
These almost forgotten childhood or adolescent shadows subtly resurfaced with the presentation of the stage scene and the rendering of the music.
A suppressed, empathetic murmur swept through the general seating like a breeze.
The curtain fully rose.
The lights illuminated the "students" on stage, some sitting, some standing, but all without exception appearing restrained, fearful, and with a touch of mischief.
They wore uniform, ill-fitting, and old clothes, their eyes darting, constantly making small movements.
Director Rachin, played by François Jules Edmond Gautier-Luzarches, wore a black priest's cassock, stood tall, walked steadily, holding a cane symbolizing authority.
His lines were always about the rules and discipline of the boarding school—
[Director Rachin: "Here, time is a measure, gauging your repentance; silence is gold, nourishing your souls; obedience is the cornerstone, building your new life. Any slight deviation is a desecration of order, a betrayal of your own salvation."]
In the initial stage, Gautier-Luzarches' performance emphasized "responsibility" and "solemnity."
His expression was serious, but not ferocious, more like an overly strict, impersonal father or judge.
Archbishop Gibault nodded slightly, approving of the "authority" and "order" displayed by Director Rachin.
But the ordinary audience was drawn into the situation, recalling the fear and oppression they felt when facing similar figures years ago, and felt initial sympathy for the "children" on stage.
The plot continued to advance.
Teacher Clément Mathieu, played by Jean Mounet-Sully, tried to approach the children gently but repeatedly met with resistance, drawing deeper questioning and warnings from Director Rachin.
The initial turning point occurred during a "punishment scene."
A child was caught by Director Rachin for accidentally spilling ink.
At this point, Gautier-Luzarches' performance began to undergo a subtle but crucial change!
His tone was no longer that solemn one imbued with heavy responsibility, but became sharp, caustic, and cold.
[Director Rachin: "Stain! Another stain! Your soul is like this defiled tabletop, full of filthy, unforgivable spots! Do you think this is an accident? No! This is an outward manifestation of your inner chaos and depravity!"]
The cane in his hand was no longer just a prop but seemed to come alive, slashing through the air like a venomous snake; although it didn't actually strike, the threatening implication made the audience in the front rows feel a chill.
[Director Rachin: "Hold out your hand! Let the pain in your body remember this moment! Let this pain be the holy water that washes away the stains of your soul! Only pain and fear can make you unruly lot remember the rules!"
Mathieu: "Director, perhaps he just didn't mean to..."
Director Rachin: "Mr. Mathieu! Your weakness and naiveté are precisely what encourage this sin to grow! Here, there is no 'accident,' only 'deliberate'! Every act of leniency is a concession to the devil! Step back!"]
Among the general seating, there were suppressed, empathetic gasps and intakes of breath.
Too real! This harshness towards minor transgressions, this attitude of seeing corporal punishment as the only means, instantly struck the most painful parts of their memories.
One gentleman subconsciously touched his palm, as if the swelling and pain from years ago had resurfaced.
A lady gently covered her mouth with a handkerchief, her eyes showing fear and anger.
The whispers became clearer:
"My God, it's exactly like my headmaster back then!"
"This isn't education at all, it's tyranny!"
And Archbishop Gibault's brow furrowed for the first time.
He leaned forward slightly, the reserve and appreciation on his face gone, replaced by a trace of confusion and growing doubt.
The venom in Director Rachin's tone, and his rude interruption of Teacher Mathieu's kindness, made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.
This was no longer a "stern shepherd," but more like a tyrant who delighted in punishment?
He turned his head to glance at Monsignor Valette behind him, his eyes questioning.
Monsignor Valette's forehead also showed a slight sweat; he too sensed that something was amiss.
The events on stage continued to intensify the Archbishop's emotions.
Director Rachin's attitude towards the choir changed from "useless noise" to outright hostility and mockery.
When Teacher Mathieu's secretly organized choir sang the pure and beautiful "Night" for the first time, the children's singing seemed to possess magic, enveloping the entire stage and even the theater in a warm and hopeful atmosphere.
Debussy's music bloomed perfectly at this moment, the clear children's chorus directly striking the heart, and tears welled up in many audience members' eyes—tears of being moved by beauty and hope.
Even Archbishop Gibault relaxed slightly—at least the music was very close to what had been described in the report.
However, the singing attracted Director Rachin.
He appeared at the doorway like a ghost, his face livid.
[Director Rachin: "Stop! Stop at once! This decadent music! These bewitching devil's tricks! How dare you do such meaningless, time-wasting foolishness behind my back! Music? Singing? Can it teach you obedience? Can it flog your sins? It will only make you weaker, more unruly!"
He lunged forward, almost tearing at the sheet music: "Mr. Mathieu! I misjudged you! What you brought is not music, but the poison of chaos and rebellion! You are destroying these children, destroying the order I painstakingly built!"]
This trampling and slandering of "beauty" and "hope" completely ignited the anger in the hearts of the ordinary audience.
A low growl of anger spread through the stalls.
Archbishop Gibault's face completely darkened.
His hand on his knee clenched slightly. Something was wrong! Completely wrong! This was not the Director Rachin who "would ultimately be moved by music" from Duroc's report!
This was a stubborn, obstinate man who hated everything beautiful!
This play... what was this play trying to express?
It wasn't demonstrating the church's power of redemption; it was an accusation! It was a critique!
He sharply looked in the general direction where Lionel Sorel was—but there was only darkness and vague outlines there.
(End of Chapter)
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