The first act of Thunderstorm ended, and the applause did not erupt immediately.
The audience seemed paralyzed, frozen in their seats.
Their faces were a complex mix of shock, bewilderment, contemplation, and even fear.
They had witnessed a performance unlike any before, experienced an impact that pierced directly into the soul.
This impact did not come from exaggerated plots or sentimental lines, but from its suffocating sense of reality.
The tragedy on stage felt like a concentration and reflection of the tragic dramas happening around them, or even within their own families.
This reality was too terrifying, making it momentarily impossible to breathe or know how to react.
The air stagnated, and time seemed to slow down.
People looked at each other, seeing the same shock and helplessness in others' eyes, their minds seemingly still trapped in the suffocating drawing-room of the Lavalner estate.
The despairing sobs of Madam Madeleine, the painful silence of Édouard, Antoine's innocent questioning, and Lavalner's cold words seemed to echo in their ears...
This silence lasted for a full minute, which felt like the highest form of tribute to the play's power.
Then, like a flood long held back finally breaking the dam, like the first clap of spring thunder after a long winter—
"Bravo!"
A cheer that burst forth from some unseen box ignited the fuse.
Instantly, a roar of applause and cheers, like a tidal wave, erupted, sweeping through the entire Comédie-Française!
The fervor and persistence of this applause far surpassed any previous performance, even exceeding the standing ovation The Choir received at the final curtain call.
Amidst the applause, people rose to their feet, as if needing this action to vent the emotions suppressed within them.
They clapped vigorously until their palms were red, some even with tears of excitement shining in their eyes.
The audience seemed to be using this unrestrained applause to release the pent-up pressure that the plot had imposed on their chests, to express their affirmation of the play's artistic achievement.
No matter how much the content of Thunderstorm stung them, its artistic standard was undeniable; it could be said to have far surpassed any other play of this era!
"Brilliant! Unparalleled!"
"Bernhardt! Gauthier-Larzac! Every actor was flawless!"
"The lighting! The set design!"
"And that real staircase and the second floor! Good heavens, I never imagined drama could be like this!"
"Lionel Sorel is a genius! He has revolutionized theater!"
"This isn't just drama; it's a storm of the soul!"
"Lavalner! Good heavens, he is exactly like my father!"
"This is real drama! It's not trying to please us; it is judging us!"
"Sorel is a genius! And a devil!"
The critics had long forgotten about writing; like the rest of the audience, they were immersed in a massive artistic shock.
Conservatives might have felt uncomfortable revealing such "dark aspects," but even they could not deny the astonishing height the play reached artistically.
Its script, performances, set design, and use of lighting were all groundbreaking, pushing the capacity for realistic expression in drama to a new peak.
Backstage, Director Émile Perrin's face was flushed with excitement, and he constantly wiped his forehead and neck with a handkerchief.
He rambled incoherently to everyone who approached him:
"It succeeded! We succeeded! Did you hear that applause? Good Lord!"
Émile Perrin knew that everything he had invested in Thunderstorm, even staking his lifelong honor, would be returned a hundredfold, even a thousandfold!
Lionel stood in his box, listening to the thunderous applause and cheers from the audience, a faint smile on his face.
He knew Thunderstorm had firmly seized Paris's heart, or rather, stung its most sensitive nerve.
The massive applause continued for a long time before gradually subsiding, but the excitement in the Salle Richelieu did not cease.
The intermission bell had rung long ago, but most of the audience remained seated or in their boxes, talking and debating, their emotions highly charged.
In the box where Lionel was seated, visitors began arriving almost the moment the first act ended.
The first to arrive was Archbishop Louis-Antoine-Augustin Gibot.
The "Bishop of the People" looked solemn.
He grasped Lionel's hand:
"Mr. Sorel, I must congratulate you. This play illuminates the soul's confusion. When man strays from God's guidance, indulges in improper passions, and disregards sacred family responsibilities, tragedy follows like a shadow.
Lavalner's hypocrisy is regrettable, but the downfall of Madam Madeleine and Édouard is the bitter fruit of abandoning faith and morality. Your work has profound cautionary significance!"
Next came the Marquise Éléonore de Rothschild, escorted by her entourage, moving with elegance beside her husband:
"My dear Lionel, you have proven your talent is unparalleled once again. You have innovated the stage and brought drama into a new era. This is not just an artistic victory; it is a victory of taste."
Following them, various celebrities, critics, and writers flocked over.
Jules Claretie exclaimed:
"Mr. Sorel, you have ripped away the fig leaf from respectable society! This required immense courage and insight!"
The Director of Les Invalides, Edmond Charles de Martimprey, clapped Lionel on the shoulder:
"Young man, your play... it reminded me of many things. Perhaps some things shouldn't be presented so frankly, but... you did well. Young man, your heart is still kind..."
Lionel received congratulations from all sides, his own emotions stirred.
Looking at the throng of people in this ancient theater, listening to the sincere praise and discussion, an indescribable sense of accomplishment swelled in his heart.
He finally saw a performance in this era that was "approaching" the level of world theatre he remembered.
Thunderstorm would indeed advance the standard of European drama by a huge margin.
This feeling of personally pushing history forward was more satisfying to him than mere fame or profit.
The intermission passed quickly amidst fervent discussion.
The audience gradually returned to their seats, the chatter lowering until a silence filled with anticipation once again enveloped the theater.
Everyone knew that the conflict of the first act had been laid bare, and the secret hidden in the background was about to be revealed.
The curtain rose again, slowly, under the gaze of countless eyes.
The setting for the second act remained the same luxurious yet oppressive drawing-room of the Lavalner estate.
Only a short time seemed to have passed, but the atmosphere was even heavier than at the end of Act One.
The plot advanced rhythmically, and through dialogue, the audience saw "Marcel" and "Fanny's" mother, "Madaleine," visit.
Soon after, everyone realized the old woman's identity was not simple—she seemed to be an old acquaintance, perhaps even a former lover, of "Master Lavalner."
Just as this scene of reunion was about to begin—
Suddenly!
Without warning, a blinding, stark white, dazzling flash ripped through the dim stage lighting from outside the set's window!
This light instantly illuminated every face on stage with perfect clarity, casting grotesque, distorted shadows of the luxurious furnishings in the living room!
Almost perfectly synchronized with the flash—
"RUMBLE—!!!"
A deep, heavy, thunderous sound, so profound that the very earth seemed to tremble slightly, rolled in from the stage direction, like the roar of a giant beast.
This sound, this vibration, heavily crushed every inch of air in the theater, striking directly into the audience's chests!
At this instant, all the spectators in the entire Salle Richelieu seemed to be collectively frozen!
Astonishment!
Stupor!
Disbelief!
Many people instinctively leaned back, sucking in a sharp breath.
Ladies let out short gasps, covering their mouths with their hands.
Gentlemen widened their eyes, as if witnessing a miracle, or perhaps feeling a power beyond the scope of drama.
They had never experienced such realistic lightning and thunder in any theater!
This completely exceeded their cognitive limits regarding "stage effects."
The theater fell into dead silence.
Only the lingering echo of the thunder seemed to hover in the rafters.
Everyone was completely stunned by this unprecedented, never-before-heard sound and light effect!
(End of Chapter)