In a box, Émile Perrin, the Director of the Comédie-Française, wiped the fine sweat from his forehead and let out a long sigh of relief.
Several heavyweight figures from the critique circle next to him, such as the veteran drama critic from Le Figaro, were conversing excitedly with each other, clearly deeply moved by the play.
Jules Claretie of Le Figaro said to Émile Perrin:
"Unbelievable! You and Mr. Sorel have done something magnificent! The rhythm, the lines, the performance... it completely subverts past drama! It made me feel suffocated, as if I were personally trapped in that luxurious drawing-room!"
Another critic from Le Temps added:
"Especially that worker, Marcel; his appearance elevated the entire structure of the drama. This is not just a family dispute; it's a microcosm of society! Mr. Sorel truly lived up to expectations!"
In another box, Lionel sat quietly, his face betraying no joy or sorrow.
The others in the box—Sophie, Alice, Pettit—were all staring intently at the performance on stage, completely forgetting he was beside them.
He also heard the discussions around him, the applause that erupted occasionally, and saw how firmly the audience was gripped by the plot.
He knew that Thunderstorm had begun to conquer the most discerning theater audience in Europe: that of Paris.
On stage, after "Guillaume" persuaded "Marcel" to leave, the conversation between father and daughter continued.
The stifling, stagnant air made the sweat beads on Fanny's forehead faintly reflect the light—a detail the audience could never have seen before.
She breathed anxiously, both frightened and somewhat disbelieving of her father's talk about "haunting spirits."
[FANNY (gasping): What exactly did you see? Father, tell me quickly!
GUILLAUME (with a showy air): I had two glasses of absinthe, my head was dizzy, and I sneaked through the rose bushes behind the estate to hide near the corridor by this door. At that time, I heard in this room... a soft squeaking, like a female ghost crying. How tragically she cried! The more scared I was, the more I wanted to see. So, I forced myself to look through the crack in the door—and I saw...]
The audience fell silent; even the sound of fans shaking stopped.
Everyone was drawn into that eerie night by Guillaume's secretive tone.
[GUILLAUME (pointing to a small table near the fireplace): On that tortoiseshell inlaid table, there was a candle about to go out. In a daze, I saw two dark shadows sitting side-by-side, their backs to me. The female ghost was leaning against the male ghost, crying, and the male ghost was sighing deeply with his head bowed.
FANNY (voice trembling): Ah? It's true this room is haunted...
GUILLAUME: Isn't it? I took advantage of the spirit of the wine and coughed lightly toward the gap in the window. Suddenly, these two ghosts separated and both looked toward me—at that moment, their faces were clearly facing me. I truly thought I had seen a ghost!
FANNY (nervously): A ghost? What did it look like? (She subconsciously looked around) Who was it?
GUILLAUME: It was then I saw the female ghost—it was our Madam, Madam Madeleine!
FANNY (incredulously): Madam?! And the man?
GUILLAUME: The male ghost, don't be afraid—it was the Eldest Young Master, Édouard!
FANNY (as if struck by lightning): Him?!
GUILLAUME: It was him! He and his stepmother—Madam Madeleine—were 'haunting' this room!]
"BOOM—!"
As Guillaume's words ended, the entire Salle Richelieu erupted into uproar.
All previous speculation and ambiguous chuckles were shattered by this naked, appalling truth.
A noblewoman shrieked:
"God! Step-son and step-mother!"
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief, her eyes wide open.
An elderly conservative gentleman slammed his cane on the floor:
"Shameless! Moral decay!"
His face went pale with anger:
"This... this is totally improper! The Lavalner family... they are a disgrace to France!"
A critic excitedly told his companion:
"I knew it! That madman Sorel never plays by the rules!"
His companion's voice was equally unrestrained with excitement:
"It's so shocking! Step-son and step-mother, and they were active about it! This is more direct than Lucrèce Borgia!"
Lucrèce Borgia was a famous play by Hugo, published in 1833, which also caused a sensation in Paris.
It involved a mother and son having an affair due to unknowing circumstances, but that was more a tragedy caused by the trickery of fate and misunderstanding—an "Oedipal" tragedy within a scope acceptable to the French.
However, the affair between a "step-son" and "step-mother," even if it occurred often in reality, was something that could not be mentioned.
Guillaume's description in Thunderstorm clearly indicated that Édouard and Madam Madeleine were engaging in this "haunting" consciously and willingly.
This was a naked challenge and betrayal of secular morality!
"How did this script pass police censorship?"
"What about the Church? Didn't the Church receive the script?"
"Good heavens! I must go to church to pray tomorrow..."
...
The sounds of discussion, condemnation, and astonished gasps mingled together, forming a buzzing wave that nearly lifted the dome of the Comédie-Française.
Some ladies turned deathly pale, fanning themselves repeatedly, as if needing more air.
One lady whose corset was too tight even fainted from excitement due to the overly stimulating plot, causing a small commotion.
A sharp voice rose from the audience, filled with anger:
"This is immoral! It's blasphemy!"
But others held a different view, murmuring amidst the clamor:
"But... why? Why would Madam Madeleine do such a thing? In this household..."
At that moment, someone shouted:
"Look! Fanny! She doesn't seem to believe it!"
The audience's attention was immediately pulled back to the stage.
Fanny on stage was in a state of extreme shock and resistance.
[FANNY (shaking her head hard): No, that's wrong, he wouldn't do that!
GUILLAUME: Have you forgotten that Young Master Édouard is only six or seven years younger than Madam Madeleine?
FANNY: I don't believe it, no, it's not like that!
GUILLAUME: Fine, believe it or not, I'm just telling you—Madam's temper towards you hasn't been good lately, all because of you, because of you and—
FANNY (interrupting urgently): Madam knows you were peeking at the door; she won't forgive you!
GUILLAUME: Yes, I broke out in a cold sweat. I didn't wait for them to come out; I ran.
...]
Guillaume's narrative confirmed this appalling scandal.
The audience developed extremely complex expectations for "Madam Madeleine," who had not yet appeared but was already enveloped in the shadow of "adultery."
What kind of woman was she?
Was she a shameless, vicious adulteress?
Just then, faint footsteps were heard on the staircase to the side of the stage, and the lights there simultaneously brightened.
All whispers immediately ceased, and the audience collectively held their breath, their gazes fixed on the top of the spiral staircase.
A figure slowly appeared in the light—she was wearing a dark purple silk gown, elegantly styled, outlining her graceful figure; her hair was impeccably coiffed, but her face was so pale it was almost bloodless.
It was Madam Madeleine, played by Sarah Bernhardt, the most popular actress of the era.
The legendary actress's beautiful figure was revealed flawlessly on the high staircase, appearing far more noble and elegant than any past entrance from a 'painted' doorway.
Just this entrance made everyone feel that the Comédie-Française's investment in 'two floors' was worthwhile!
She descended the stairs step by step, her movements slow and weak, yet still graceful, but every step seemed to land on the audience's heart.
The entire theater audience had its volume muted.
(End of Chapter)