Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 345 Product Placement!

Sarah Bernhardt, the queen of the Parisian stage, is now completely transformed into the mistress of the La Verne estate.

Her gait appeared elegant and composed, but upon closer inspection, each step carried an imperceptible unsteadiness, as if the wooden floor beneath her feet might collapse at any moment.

She didn't speak immediately, nor did she deliberately look at anyone in the audience. She simply turned her head slightly, her gaze sweeping blankly across the magnificent living room.

In that brief silence and a few glances, a strange feeling had already taken root in the hearts of the audience and continued to spread.

She is beautiful, like a finely crafted piece of porcelain; she is elegant, with an innate aristocratic air about her…

But beneath this beauty and elegance lies a bottomless desolation, helplessness, and fragility.

She didn't seem like a living person, but rather like a bubble wrapped in gorgeous clothes and elegant manners, about to burst.

Only Lionel, sitting in the private box, knew that this was the result of countless rehearsals and discussions between him and Sarah.

They abandoned the hysterical, outward performances of female characters in traditional tragedies, instead pursuing a restrained, almost desperate tranquility.

Beneath this calm lies a turbulent undercurrent of pain, a silent lament as the soul is slowly crushed.

Lionel asked Sarah Bernhardt to portray the innermost soul of "Madame Madeleine"—or, in modern terms, "fragmentation."

This quality evokes more instinctive sympathy and protectiveness in humans than any act of weeping and wailing.

No audience member of this era could resist this sense of "fragmentation"—and sure enough, a murmur of pity and amazement rose from the audience.

When Guillaume first told them about the "ghostly" incident, many people pictured her as a promiscuous, scheming, and vicious woman.

However, the woman before me, her vulnerability was so real, her paleness so shocking...

She is someone for whom it is impossible to associate with words like "insidious" or "licentious."

A strong question arises in the minds of the audience: Why would such a seemingly weak and helpless woman fall into an incestuous relationship with her stepson?

What profound despair and oppression must have driven her to this seemingly impossible path?

The critics were completely captivated; they whispered amongst themselves and jotted down notes rapidly.

"Miss Bernhardt's acting skills have reached a state of perfection!"

"She didn't need any lines; she created a complete tragic soul with just her breath and eyes!"

"This is another leap forward for the performing arts!"

"Only on the stage of the comedy theater, under these lights, can such a leap be accomplished!"

After the audience saw "Mrs. Madeleine" walk to the center of the living room and exchange a few words with "Fanny", they saw the medicine on the table.

Fanny (picking up the medicine, timidly): "Madam, please take your medicine."

Mrs. Madeleine (in a light, weary voice): "Who said I needed to take medicine?"

Fanny: "It was the master's order."

The word "Master" cracked through the air like a whip.

Although Madame Madeleine tried her best to maintain a calm demeanor, her body still trembled slightly.

That deep-seated fear and disgust was revealed through her momentary tremor, allowing the audience to clearly feel it.

The "Lord Laverne," who has yet to appear, seems to cast a heavy shadow over this luxurious manor, emanating his authority and will.

He made everyone here—the mistress, the young master, the servants—feel a suffocating sense of having nowhere to escape.

[Mrs. Madeleine (glancing at the medicine): I didn't call a doctor, where did this medicine come from?]

Fanny: "The master said you have hysteria. This morning he remembered the medicine you used to take, so he had it prepared and said he would give it to you as soon as you wake up."

Madame Madeleine (picks up the medicine, takes a sip, then frowns): "It's very bitter. Who brewed it?"

Fanny: "Me."

Mrs. Madeleine (pushing the medicine away): "It tastes awful, throw it away!"

Fanny (hesitatingly): "Pour it out?"

Mrs. Madeleine: "Hmm? Well... (pauses slightly, disgusted) Or you can leave it there for now. No, (resolutely) you should pour it out."

Fanny (still hesitating): "Hmm..."

Mrs. Madeleine (muttering to herself): "I've had enough of this bitter medicine all these years." Fanny (trying to persuade her): "Please bear with it. Bitter medicine can cure illness."

Mrs. Madeleine (coldly): "Who asked you to persuade me? Throw it away!"

...]

This seemingly ordinary conversation about "medicine" further helped the audience understand the inner world of "Madame Madeleine".

This "medicine" was not just for treating her illness, but also for Lavergne's dual control over her body and mind.

Her resistance, her compromise, and her statement, "I think I've had enough," all reveal the long-term repression and pain she has endured in this family.

After the initial shock, the audience's sympathy deepened.

They began to believe that Madame Madeleine's "fall" was not due to her nature, but rather the result of being imprisoned in this cage for a long time.

Just then, a light, energetic sound of footsteps and the laughter of young people came from the direction of the garden, breaking the suffocating silence in the living room.

"Fanny! Fanny! Look what I brought!"

With this sunny shout, a figure, like a lark, rode a bicycle onto the stage.

He rode his bike around the stage once before carefully propping it against the wall, and then lightly leaped onto the steps on the side of the stage.

He was Antoine de La Verne, the second son of the family.

Unlike the gloom and anxiety of the other members of the manor, Antoine was dressed in a white linen suit, his face flushed with a healthy glow, and his blue eyes were clear and bright.

His smile was so radiant it seemed to dispel all shadows.

His appearance was like a ray of blazing sunlight, suddenly illuminating this gloomy, stuffy mansion.

A burst of light laughter and exclamations even rang out from the audience, infected by the sudden burst of brightness.

Especially his shiny bicycle, with equal front and rear wheels, looks very light and fast. It's been seen on the streets of Paris occasionally lately, and it's quite fashionable.

Sophie turned around in delight, gave Lionel a tight hug, and whispered, "Leon, that's wonderful! This is the best advertisement!"

Lionel nodded: "If the stage depth hadn't been increased to 14 meters and the proscenium width hadn't been expanded to 12 meters, the actors wouldn't have been able to ride around the stage."

The story on stage continues, only the gloom of before has vanished—

Antoine (excitedly walking towards his mother): "Mom! Why did you come downstairs? Are you feeling any better?"

I just went cycling with my friends to the Bois de Boulogne; the air there was so fresh! I've been coming upstairs to see you these past few days, but why have you always kept the door closed?

Mrs. Madeleine (looking at her son with affection): "I need some peace and quiet. Fanny, get the young master a bottle of soda. Look how red your face is."

Antoine (happily): "Thank you. Let me see you. You look perfectly fine, not sick at all. Why do they always say you're sick?"

You've been hiding in your room all by yourself. Look, your father's been home for three days, and you haven't seen him at all.

Mrs. Madeleine (with deeper melancholy): "I feel uneasy."

Antoine (trying to comfort her): "Oh, Mother, don't be like this. Father has wronged you, but he is old, and I am your future."

"I want to marry the best person, Mom. If you live with us, we'll know you're happy."

Mrs. Madeleine (with a bitter smile): "Happy? Oh, you're seventeen, aren't you?"

Antoine: "Mom, look, if you forget my age again, I'm going to get angry with you!"

Mrs. Madeleine (lost in thought): "Mother is not a good mother. Sometimes she forgets where she is."

"Oh, it's been eighteen years. In this old house, look, has Mom gotten old?"

This conversation between mother and son is filled with both warmth and sorrow.

Antoine's kindness and sincere love for his mother brought out Madame Madeleine's compassionate side.

Antoine's words revealed a subtle dissatisfaction with his father, and Madame Madeleine's bewilderment and lament about her own situation...

All of this serves as a reminder to the audience of the family's long and oppressive history, and the existence of the absent "tyrant."

This "tyrant" is like a huge boulder, weighing heavily on the hearts of every viewer.

(End of this chapter)