Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 351 An Unprecedented Curtain Call!
There was no applause, no cheers, not even a word of discussion.

The audience seemed to have all their strength drained away by the final gunshot and the ensuing death and madness.

Everyone was deeply shocked and unable to extricate themselves from the immense tragedy.

A tremendous chill and grief filled the air.

Nearly half a minute after the heavy curtain of "Thunderstorm" fell, the deathly silence in the Richelieu Hall was finally broken by the first belated applause.

"Bravo!"

"Brava!"

The shouts were initially sporadic and choked with sobs, but then they spread like wildfire, sweeping across the entire theater.

The applause became thunderous, so dense that there wasn't a single gap, interspersed with excited cheers.

The audience seemed to be releasing all the emotions they had suppressed while watching the play—shock, fear, pity, and awe of this great tragedy—

It all came out through this frenzied clapping and shouting!
Amidst the deafening roar, the curtain slowly rose once more.

The first to appear on stage were the actors playing servants and minor roles.

They stood in a neat row and bowed to the audience.

Next, the actors playing "Guillaume" and "La Verne" came out, and although their images were repulsive, they were also met with enthusiastic applause.

The two bowed deeply, their faces displaying the humility of actors after stepping out of their roles.

Then, the actor who plays "Marcel".

His defiant image, especially his indignant confrontation with Laverne, won applause and cheers from many young viewers and progressives.

The first real climax comes when the young actor playing "Antoine" walks out.

His innocent and kind image, which was ultimately ruthlessly destroyed, earned the tears of countless viewers.

At that moment, the ladies clapped enthusiastically, wiped their eyes with handkerchiefs, and shouted, "Bravo! Poor Antoine!"

It was as if they were mourning a real life that had passed away.

The atmosphere became even more lively when the actresses playing "Fanny" and "Madeleine" appeared.

Their faces still bore traces of wet tears, and their tragic image—falling into a terrible vortex of fate in ignorance and confusion—evoked widespread sympathy.

The cheers and applause almost lifted the dome of the comedy theater.

When the actor playing "Edward" stepped onto the stage, the applause reached a new peak.

He portrayed Edward's complex character, struggling with lust, ethics, and despair, ultimately leading to his destruction, with remarkable depth and realism.

The audience expressed their highest praise for his acting skills with a continuous, deafening barrage of "Bravo!"

He even had to walk to the front of the stage alone three times to bow to the audience in different directions.

Immediately afterwards, the entire audience held their breath for a moment—Sarah Bernhardt, the legendary "Madame Madeleine," appeared on stage.

She was still wearing that dark costume, her face was pale, and her eyes seemed to still hold the embers of madness.

She simply stood there, nodding slightly—

"Brava! Bernhardt!"

"Sarah! Long live!"

The cheers and applause erupted like a tsunami, almost drowning her.

The audience all stood up, and the gentlemen and ladies in the boxes disregarded their manners, leaning out to applaud enthusiastically.

Flowers began to be thrown onto the stage from all directions; bouquets of vibrant roses, lilies, and irises rained down at her feet.

Soon, the front edge of the stage was covered with bouquets, almost forming a wall of flowers that reached up to her ankles.

This is not only a compliment to her performance tonight, but also a tribute to the unparalleled status of this queen of the stage.

However, the glory tonight did not stop with the actors.

Just as the applause subsided, a clear voice rang out from the stands, which was then merged into a torrent of voices:
"author!"

"author!"

The shouts were unified and filled with an irresistible enthusiasm.

This is the highest tribute to the soul of drama—the playwright.

Backstage, Lionel, standing with the excitedly incoherent Dean Émile Perrin, was caught off guard by the resounding cheers that echoed throughout the theater. He had quietly come backstage to comfort the actors after the curtain fell and was now preparing to leave.

Before Lionel could react, Emil Perrin pushed him to the forefront: "Go, Lionel! They are calling for you! This is your moment!"

In an instant, Lionel was exposed to the bright stage lights and the spotlight of nearly two thousand pairs of fervent eyes.

He stood somewhat awkwardly in the center of the brightly lit stage, before the group of actors, before the sea of ​​flowers and applause—

The most frenzied scene of the night unfolded in Richelieu Hall!
Without exception, the entire audience stood up again!
The applause and cheers reached an unprecedented peak.

"Long live Sorel!"

"Bravo! Genius!"

"Long live Thunderstorm!"

Hats were tossed into the air, canes were raised and waved, and handkerchiefs fluttered like white butterflies in the private rooms.

Several young literary enthusiasts even climbed onto the railing in excitement, ignoring the staff's advice, and loudly recited impromptu poems to Lionel.

They praised Thunderstorm as a "masterpiece that tears the soul apart".

A glamorous woman forcefully ripped a gold bracelet off her wrist and threw it onto the stage.

Lionel stood on the stage, the lights were a bit blinding, and below the stage was a sea of ​​people and a deafening roar.

On stage, the actors came forward one after another, warmly embracing him and kissing his cheeks.

Sarah Bernhardt gripped his hand tightly, tears welling in her eyes: "Lionel, you've done a miracle! This is your night!"

François Gautier-Lüzarche patted him hard on the back and exclaimed in admiration.

He could only bow repeatedly and deeply.

Each time he straightened up, it triggered a new and even more enthusiastic round of cheers.

The actors stood behind him, smiling and applauding, giving him full credit for the honor.

At this point, Émile Perrin walked onto the stage, excitedly embraced Lionel, and then hugged each of the main actors, together receiving the audience's applause.

The curtain call lasted for a full fifteen minutes.

Every time the curtain falls, it rises again because of the continuous shouts of "Rappel!"

This was repeated no less than five or six times, and each time the curtain was drawn back, it sparked a new round of applause.

Until the actors and author bowed one last time, the curtain finally closed completely and never rose again, but many audience members lingered, reluctant to leave.

They gathered in the theater, excitedly discussing and reminiscing, as if they had just experienced a spiritual baptism.

Outside the backstage entrance and the actors' dressing rooms, crowds of audience members had already gathered, hoping to pay their respects in person.

There were celebrities from high society, critics, and even more enthusiastic young literature enthusiasts and theater lovers.

They waited, hoping to see the young author up close, as well as the actors who had just given a wonderful performance.

Tonight, the Comédie-Française is no longer just a theater; it has become the center of Paris's artistic sanctuary.

Lionel had finally finished his social engagements and was about to leave in a carriage with Sophie, Alice, and Petty when he was stunned by what he saw.

On both sides of the street near the side entrance of the comedy theater, hundreds of people had gathered spontaneously.

They held candles in their hands, the leaping flames flickering in the Parisian night breeze, illuminating their young and excited faces.

When someone shouted, "Mr. Sorel is out!" cheers erupted from the crowd.

"Dedicated to Lionel Sorel!"

"Thunderstorm cleansed our souls!"
"Thunderstorm" allows us to witness the true face of fate!

This spontaneously formed honor guard brought the evening's grand occasion to its final climax.

Amid cheers and stares from the crowd, the carriage slowly started moving and drove away from the still bustling Richelieu Street.

Lionel leaned back in his seat and let out a long sigh, a mixture of exhaustion and excitement.

He knew that tonight was just the beginning.

Tomorrow, all the newspapers in Paris will be filled with "Thunderstorm" and his name.

(End of this chapter)