People began to hotly discuss the safety of the "electric light," regarding it as the hope for the future of theatres.
The voices that had been skeptical about the Comédie-Française's massive investment in electrification had almost vanished in the face of the tragic reality of the Nice fire.
In their place was praise for the Comédie-Française for being ahead of the curve, and double the attention on the mysterious play, Thunderstorm.
For a time, the unfinished theatre and the enigmatic Thunderstorm actually became synonymous with "safety" and "progress."
The French Ministry of the Interior reacted swiftly, ordering a halt to performances in all theatres nationwide.
Performances could only resume after a comprehensive inspection and maintenance of all gas pipelines had been completed.
This order brought theatre operations in Paris and across France to a standstill.
Managers of major theatres, while frantically arranging inspections, unanimously turned their gaze toward the Comédie-Française.
They were all waiting to see the final result of the "stage electrification" in the theatre that was the first to "take the plunge."
Director Émile Perrin, although knowing that gloating was immoral, was practically bursting with joy.
The Comédie-Française was facing huge box office losses from the two-month closure, but now everyone else was on the same footing.
It was known that a large theatre had at least two to three hundred gas pipes, many embedded within the walls; the number of valves was astonishing.
Inspection and maintenance alone would take a long time, not to mention passing the Ministry of the Interior's final inspection—this would take at least over a month.
It was likely that by the time the Comédie-Française's renovation was complete, some theatres still wouldn't have passed inspection.
The French public's fervor for drama had been building for over a month, and when performances resumed, the first choice would surely be the "safer" Comédie-Française, especially since they could see a new play.
Émile Perrin immediately submitted a supplementary budget request to the French Ministry of the Interior.
In the report, he detailed the immense significance of the electrification renovation for improving theatre safety, citing the Nice tragedy to emphasize its urgency and necessity.
He requested additional funding to replace all the lighting in the auditorium with "safer and more reliable electric lights."
Driven by both public opinion and the actual need for safety, Director Perrin's report was quickly approved.
The theatre unexpectedly received an additional grant of 50,000 francs, specifically for the lighting upgrade in the auditorium.
However, in stark contrast to Director Perrin's excitement, Lionel fell into a new kind of distress.
The final act of Thunderstorm, where "Zhou Chong" and "Sifeng" both die from accidental electrocution, was already difficult to realize logically within this era.
Now that "electric light" was widely publicized as "absolutely safe" and representative of modernity and progress, it became even harder.
If two young characters were killed by "electricity," how could the audience be convinced?
This was no longer just about the risk of distracting the audience.
They would deem it far-fetched, illogical, and might even raise questions about the safety of electric lights, thereby completely undermining the tragic impact.
Lionel rubbed out the script for the final act that he had already written.
"Electrocution... in a place being aggressively promoted as using electric lights to replace dangerous gaslights and ensure safety..."
This contradiction presented him with a problem more thorny than any he had faced before.
The advance of technology had unexpectedly altered the context of the play's setting; he needed to find a solution that was both logical and retained the tragic power.
On the last day of March, the renovation work at the Comédie-Française was finally mostly complete.
In the auditorium, the accumulated construction materials and scaffolding from the past had been cleared, revealing a brand-new look.
The actors of Thunderstorm were summoned for the first time to stand on the completely renovated stage—what shocked them most was the stage backdrop.
It was no longer a flat curtain painted with perspective patterns, but a realistically constructed, "two-story" mansion interior, complete with columns and a staircase.
The wooden handrails of the stairs and the doorframes, the plaster balustrades in the hallway, and even a few oil paintings hanging on the walls.
An unprecedented sense of "realism" washed over the actors, who were accustomed to traditional sets, leaving them momentarily unsure how to proceed.
The stage furniture was also in place—heavy sofas, a marble-inlaid fireplace, and carved round tables and chairs.
All furnishings strived for realism, creating the environment Lionel had demanded where "the characters could truly live within it."
In terms of lighting, although gaslights remained the main source, they were cleverly hidden above and to the sides of the stage.
Electric lights, however, were integrated as indispensable secondary light sources, becoming part of the interior decor, woven into the set.
A brass-shaded incandescent table lamp was placed on the round table, a crystal electric chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, and there were two small electric candelabra on the mantelpiece.
These electric sources, combined with the gaslights, created a much more layered lighting effect than before.
Light streamed in from different angles, making the actors' faces clearer to the audience, and their expressions more nuanced and vivid.
All construction had stopped; the area was exceptionally quiet.
Only Nikola Tesla and his team of engineers were conducting final adjustments.
Lionel, Émile Perrin, and two painters stood in the front row of the auditorium.
Once Tesla announced that the adjustments were complete, Lionel stood up and announced:
"Today we will conduct a crucial test: the effect of lightning and thunder. Please have the actors take their positions and recreate the scene where Madeleine and Lavernère confront each other amidst the lightning and storm."
The actors took a deep breath and moved to their places; Madame Berthe and François Gautier-Luzarche stood center stage.
Lionel nodded to Tesla, and Tesla signaled his assistant.
The gaslights overhead in the theatre were gradually dimmed, leaving only a few to maintain minimal visibility.
The stage instantly plunged into darkness, with only the table lamp and the electric candelabra on the mantelpiece casting a faint glow, outlining the figures in vague silhouettes.
A sense of oppressive tension, like an impending storm, permeated the theatre.
As the actors struck their poses, suddenly—
"Crack!"
An extremely dazzling, almost bluish-white flash of intense light erupted violently from the upper diagonal of the stage, instantly engulfing all the darkness!
That was not the light that gaslights could imitate; it was sharp, momentary, as if it could tear everything apart, just like real lightning!
This flash illuminated every detail—the intertwined pain and horror on Madeleine's face, the hidden fear and anger in Lavernère's eyes...
After a brief pause—
"Rumble—!!!"
A deep thunder rolled from above the stage, carrying a real sense of vibration, as if a genuine storm was exploding right above the theatre.
The intense light and the loud sound vanished in an instant, and the stage returned to darkness.
The scene was dead silent.
The actors remained in the poses they held when illuminated by the flash, as if their very souls had been momentarily shocked out of them.
Director Émile Perrin stood with his mouth open, gripping the back of the seat in front of him.
The two painters almost instinctively opened the sketchbooks they carried, their charcoal pencils flying across the paper, capturing that single moment.
The posture of the figures outlined by the bright light, the facial expression details, the strong visual impact created by the contrast of light and shadow.
Émile Perrin was the first to recover, stepping quickly toward the older painter:
"Gustave! How was it? This effect is unprecedented!"
Gustave Doré looked up:
"Astonishing effect, Émile! This instant of light and shadow, this dramatic tension... it's perfect!"
On the other side, Lionel approached the younger painter and asked softly:
"Paul, how was it?"
Paul Gauguin glanced at Lionel, then looked down again, sketching with his charcoal pencil:
"I saw it. Not light, but pain! Tragedy!"
Émile Perrin walked over to Lionel, beaming proudly:
"Gustave is the best illustrator, Lio. You lose this round!"
Lionel patted Paul Gauguin on the shoulder:
"Is that so? We'll see about that..."
(End of Chapter)