Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 204 The stage is a stage, and so is the offstage performance.
On the evening of December 28, 1879, fine, crystalline snowflakes silently drifted down onto the rooftops, streets, and shoulders of pedestrians in Paris.

The air was crisp and cold, but under the warm lights of the "Black Forest" restaurant, Lionel and Sophie had just finished a comfortable dinner.

Outside the window, Peace Street was gradually being covered in white, and condensation formed on the windowpane, turning the outside world into a moving, hazy painting.

Sophie looked through the glass at the snowflakes dancing under the streetlights: "It seems like the snow is getting heavier."

Today she wore a dark gray wool long dress, with a matching woolen cape over it, and a light purple silk scarf tied at the neckline, simple yet elegant.

In a little while, she will be going to see "The Choir" with Lionel.

In the past few days, the front pages of almost all newspapers have been dominated by "The Choir" and "The People's Bishop".

She knew the play was a huge success, but she only had a vague idea of ​​how successful it was.

Lionel suggested a walk to the Comédie-Française, and Sophie wrapped her cloak tighter around herself and followed Lionel into the snowy night.

The closer you get to Richelieu Street, the denser the crowds become.

The carriage could barely move; the shouts of the driver, the muffled thud of horses' hooves on the snow, and the buzzing of conversation among the crowd mingled together, dispelling the silence of the winter night.

When the magnificent Baroque building of the comedy theater finally came into view, Sophie involuntarily stopped and took a deep breath.

The scene before her eyes far exceeded her imagination and shocked her—the entrance to the comedy theater was like a huge pot of boiling water!
A dense crowd filled the square and streets in front of the gate, stretching all the way to the distant intersection.

People thronged shoulder to shoulder, their breath forming a thin mist that swirled in the glow of the gas lamps.

Vendors selling program schedules and snacks nimbly weaved through the crowd, their voices shrill.

Many more people craned their necks, anxiously staring at the ticket gates, as if they were the entrance to heaven.

Sophie's blue eyes widened in shock as she murmured, "This... God... they... they're all here to see 'The Choir'?"

She knew the show was popular, but she didn't expect it to be this popular—it was more crowded than a carnival.

Lionel frowned slightly; he didn't want to be recognized and surrounded by the crowd at this moment.

He whispered to Sophie, "It seems we can't get in through the main gate."

Then he gently tugged at her arm: "Come with me, let's go the other way."

He led Sophie skillfully into a relatively quiet alley, around to the side and back of the comedy theater.

There is a small door here that is only for staff and actors to enter and exit.

Lionel stepped forward and knocked, and a shrewd-looking doorman in uniform opened the door.

The doorman clearly recognized him, and a smile immediately spread across his face: "Mr. Sorel!"

Then he quickly made way for them: "Please come in, it's very cold outside! The dean has instructed that you can come anytime."

Lionel nodded, tossed five Sophie coins to the doorman, and then slipped inside with Sophie.

The door closed behind them, instantly shutting out the noise and cold outside.

Inside the door was a slightly narrow but very clean corridor, with posters of past performances pasted on the walls, and a faint, distinctive smell of turpentine, cosmetics, and old curtains permeating the air.

Occasionally, actors or stage assistants in costumes or work clothes would hurry by, nodding in greeting to Lionel and glancing briefly at Sophie with friendly curiosity.

Lionel led the way with practiced ease: "This way."

Sophie followed behind him, curiously observing this completely unfamiliar world.

Lionel stopped at a door with a sign that read "Starring Dress Room" and gently pushed the door open.

Inside, Jean Mounet-Sulli and François Jules Edmond Gautier-Luzard were drinking coffee to stay awake.

Mune-Shuli immediately stood up, a genuine smile on his face: "Leonard! I thought you weren't coming tonight."

Lionel smiled and introduced, “This is Miss Sophie Deneuve. Sophie, this is Mr. Jean Mounet-Sulli, and this is Mr. François Jules Edmond Gautier-Luzard.”

Sophie seemed to catch her breath for a moment when she saw Mune-Shuri.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and her eyes were filled with excitement: "Mr. Mune-Suri...it's...it's you."

When my parents were alive, they would bring me to the comedy theater every Christmas.

We...we've seen you play Hippolytus in "Phaedel" and Rodrigo in "Cid"...

Our whole family really, really enjoyed your performance.

Moune-Shuri gave a graceful bow: "It is my honor, dear Miss Deneuve."

Hearing such recollections always makes me feel that this profession is especially meaningful.” Gautier-Lüzarche smiled and nodded in acknowledgment.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the time to leave for the performance drew ever closer.

The theater manager rushed over to Lionel: "Mr. Sorel! You've finally arrived. The foyer is so crowded, we sold a lot of standing tickets!"

Mr. Perrin instructed that a small observation room, not normally open to the public, be arranged for you in a corner on the second floor. It's a bit out of the way, but it's absolutely quiet!

After thanking him, Lionel led Sophie and the manager through a maze of backstage passages, climbed several narrow staircases, and arrived at a hidden entrance on the second floor.

Pushing open the door, you'll find a very small private room that can only accommodate three or four people.

The interior was simply furnished with only three velvet chairs and a narrow shelf, but it was exceptionally clean.

Its location is clever, with a curtain slightly obscuring the view in front, allowing a clear view of the stage and most of the audience seats while being less likely to be noticed by people downstairs.

The manager considerately took his leave and closed the door behind him.

Almost the instant the door closed, all the gaslights in the theater began to dim, signaling that the performance was about to begin.

The tremendous clamor subsided as quickly as the tide receded, leaving only a humming silence filled with anticipation.

Sophie and Lionel sat down in the darkness, so close that they could hear each other breathing.

As the curtain slowly rises, the story of "The Choir" unfolds once again, and Sophie is completely immersed in it.

A gloomy reformatory, a strict headmaster named Razzie, a kind but clumsy Mathieu, unruly children yearning for love, and music with the power to penetrate the heart...

Everything is still so deeply moving.

This time, her feelings were completely different from when she read newspaper reviews or heard stories from others.

Because sitting next to her is the one who created this world.

When the beautiful melody begins, when the children's singing brings tears to our eyes, when paper flowers fall like snowflakes...

She turned her head again and again, gazing at Lionel's focused and calm profile in the alternating light and shadow reflected from the stage.

An indescribable, overwhelming sense of happiness enveloped her.

I felt sad that my parents couldn't see this, but even more so, I felt immense pride and warmth.

The person who wrote these moving stories, created these vivid characters, and crafted this beautiful music is sitting right beside her.

In the darkness, her heart pounded. A powerful impulse drove her.

In that sublime moment when Pierre's clear, heavenly solo resounded throughout the theater, and the spotlight shone on him, while the entire audience held their breath in awe...

Sophie turned around gently and without hesitation.

She reached out and gently cupped Lionel's face, turning him slightly towards her, and then pressed her soft lips to his.

Lionel froze for a moment, then reached out and wrapped his arms tightly around Sophie's waist, pulling her closer into his embrace and passionately responding to the kiss under the cover of darkness.

The stage lights occasionally swept across their closely intertwined figures, outlining brief but touching silhouettes.

……

However, at this moment when the emotions were running high, an untimely, subtle yet clear sound came from another private room next door.

It was a suppressed, intermittent moan, mixed with the man's heavy breathing and the rhythmic, slight creaking of the leather seat...

Lionel and Sophie's kissing motion stopped simultaneously.

They slowly separated, took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, and then very slowly and carefully turned their heads to look in the direction of the next private room.

Although there was a partition between them, making it difficult to see the specific situation, the increasingly unrestrained and undisguised sounds clearly revealed that another "passionate scene" was unfolding next door.

Sophie's cheeks instantly turned hot, but thankfully it was too dark to see clearly.

Lionel was initially taken aback, then a wry smile appeared on his face.

He had heard of the "second use" of theater boxes in the 19th century, but this was the first time he had ever experienced it firsthand.

Lionel reached out and gently took Sophie's hand, his fingertips scratching the back of her hand as if to say, "Look, this is Paris."

Sophie grasped his hand in return, and couldn't help but gently rest her head on his shoulder, her body trembling slightly as she suppressed a soft laugh.

The snow was still falling quietly in the theater, covering this devoted yet promiscuous Paris.

(End of this chapter)