117 Saint-Germain Boulevard was a typical new Haussmannian building, completed just five years ago, with a clear outline and bright facade.
Compared to the old Haussmannian buildings around it, which had weathered over twenty years of storms, it appeared particularly stately and novel.
Achille-Claude Debussy stood in front of the building, slightly self-consciously straightening his collar and tie.
He clutched a hardback notebook for recording sheet music tightly in his hand, looking up at the imposing building.
Compared to his home, which was on the second floor of a shop, or the cramped, noisy attics rented by his classmates, this place felt like another world.
Even the air was permeated with the scent of money and order.
He took a deep breath, explained his purpose to the doorman, and then stepped into the foyer, where he saw an interior even more splendid than the exterior.
The mirror-like marble floor, the soaring ceilings, the gleaming brass gas lamps—everything was magnificent.
An immaculately dressed administrator sat behind a walnut desk:
"Good day, sir, who are you looking for?"
The tone was polite but scrutinizing, making Debussy even more flustered.
He tried to make his voice sound calm:
"Good day, I'm here to see Mr. Lionel Sorel.
My name is Achille-Claude Debussy, and we have an appointment."
The doorman flipped through the registry on the desk and nodded:
"Yes, Mr. Debussy. Mr. Sorel mentioned you. mHis apartment is on the second floor, the one on the left. Please go straight up."
Debussy nodded slightly:
"Thank you."
Then he ascended the wide staircase to the second floor.
To his surprise, even the stairs and corridors here were covered with soft, thick carpets, as plush as snow underfoot.
The corridor was extraordinarily quiet; the thick walls, oak doors, and tightly closed windows isolated the street noise, allowing him to almost hear his own breathing.
This apartment could only be called "high-end" in Paris; but for Debussy, it was an unimaginable luxury.
The dormitories provided by the Paris Conservatory were like pigsties, not to mention those attics where it was hard to even turn around.
There were only two doors on the second floor, located on the left and right sides of the staircase.
Debussy followed the instructions and walked towards the dark oak door on the left, which had a brass nameplate engraved with elegant calligraphic numbers.
He found the doorbell pull-cord and gave it a gentle tug.
Not long after, Lionel opened the door:
"Good afternoon, Achille, you're very punctual. Welcome!"
After exchanging greetings, Debussy, feeling apprehensive, stepped into the apartment and was dazzled once again.
The first thing that caught his eye was a spacious foyer, which then connected to an extremely open living room.
The velvet curtains hanging from the tall windows were tied high, allowing the bright afternoon sun to fully stream in and illuminate the entire space.
The walls were whitewashed, decorated with several landscape paintings and figure sketches.
The floor was polished dark solid wood, covered with several beautifully patterned Turkish-style rugs.
But what truly made Debussy's eyes light up was a well-maintained piano placed on the other side of the living room, near the inner window!
Debussy recognized it at once as an Érard piano, known for its warm, mellow tone, particularly suited for Romantic works, and Chopin's favorite.
The dark wooden body gleamed softly in the sunlight, its lid open, revealing the distinct black and white keys, as if waiting for a musician's touch.
Debussy couldn't help but exclaim,
"This... this place is truly wonderful, Mr. Sorel!"
Lionel smiled and pointed to the piano:
"With this, our work will be much easier. Come on, don't stand, please sit anywhere."
As soon as he sat down, Debussy saw a little girl, about ten years old, wearing a small white apron, peeking her head out from the kitchen, curiously looking at him.
Debussy scratched his head, feeling a little embarrassed.
Lionel seemed to sense his discomfort:
"Actually, I'm not entirely used to it either... I only moved in three days ago.
Last night, when I got up for a drink of water, I kicked the cabinet leg, and it still hurts a bit."
That single sentence eased Debussy's tension.
Lionel had actually long thought about moving out of 64 Rue Laffitte, but he always found moving a hassle, so he hadn't.
That place was a hasty choice after the Greenhait incident, and all the facilities were a bit old; even getting water required going to the public basin in the corridor.
This time, the church coming to his door made Lionel determined—
Although he wasn't sure what the administrator at 64 Rue Laffitte had told the church, it certainly wasn't difficult to pry information out of him.
Continuing to live there, he didn't know what else might happen, so Lionel had entrusted an agent to find him a new apartment a few days ago and moved in before the school year started.
At this moment, Patty returned with a tray holding two steaming cups of black coffee and a small dish of sugar cubes.
Lionel said gently,
"Thank you, Patty."
Debussy also quickly thanked her:
"Thank you, mademoiselle."
Patty curtsied gracefully, softly saying, "You're welcome," before turning to leave.
Lionel picked up his coffee and took a sip, then got down to business:
"Alright, Achille, let's get to work. I've already written the beginning of the script."
He got up, walked to his desk, picked up a stack of densely written manuscript paper, and returned to hand it to Debussy.
Debussy took the manuscript, the title of the play, The Chorus, written at the top of the first page, followed by the character list and scene descriptions.
Then came the script content:
[...…
Father Rachin: "Mr. Clément Mathieu? I am Father Rachin, the director here. Thank you for answering our call.
The situation here may be different from what you imagine. We do not shelter ordinary children.
They are lost lambs, abandoned by their families, forgotten by society, tainted with inherent or acquired recalcitrance.
Here, order, discipline, and punishment are the only ways to cleanse their souls and guide them towards light. Do you understand?"
Mathieu: "I understand, Father. I will do my best..."
Father Rachin: "Not 'do your best,' you must strictly comply. Every rule here is for their own good. Any weakness or indulgence is a concession to the devil, a further harm to their souls.
Your predecessor tried to reform them, and the result... I hope you will not repeat his mistakes."
Mathieu: "I will bear your teachings in mind, Father."
Father Rachin: "Very good. Now, I will take you to meet your 'lambs.' Remember what you just said."]
Debussy finished reading this opening section, his heart significantly impacted.
Lionel portrayed Father Rachin's hypocrisy and coldness incisively; his lines directly evoked the deepest fears in every French child's heart.
For a long time, primary education in France had been controlled by the church, so these strict, sanctimonious pronouncements had long been the nightmare of generations of French people.
When Lionel wrote this part, he envisioned Father Pelletier from Montiel.
Father Pelletier was the nominal "headmaster" of Saint-Joseph, but he never taught classes.
His favorite thing was to interrupt classes, conduct surprise inspections, and then stand on the platform, scolding that the students had fallen into depravity due to the teachers' leniency.
He often made Mr. Renault tremble in the corner.
This emotional impact was well preserved by Lionel in the script.
This was also why Lionel dared to write The Chorus script right under the church's nose—
The biggest "villain," Director Rachin, didn't need to be overtly evil in this play.
His every word and deed were "exemplary" in the eyes of the church, but in the eyes of ordinary French people, he was an absolute "devil."
He patted the somewhat lost Debussy, pointing to another part of the script:
"This is where you need to compose the music."
Debussy quickly composed himself, looked down seriously, and a smile gradually appeared on his face...
(End of Chapter)
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