While Lionel was hesitating, the middle-aged man also spotted Lionel.
He took out a piece of paper from his pocket, glanced at it, then looked up at Lionel, before putting the sign away and walking up to Lionel.
The middle-aged man took off his glove, extended his hand, and spoke in French with a heavy Russian accent:
"Are you Mr. Sorel? Welcome to Saint Petersburg!
I am Vladimir Ivanov, the administrative secretary of the Alexandrinsky Theatre. I am here on the orders of Director Vsevolodsky to welcome you."
Lionel shook his hand:
"Alexandrinsky Theatre?"
Although he muttered internally,
"At least it's not Sophia's people."
He was still very puzzled. He had not made any contact with any Russian theatre.
Secretary Ivanov explained respectfully:
"Yes, sir. We received a telegram sent by Director Perrin of the Comédie-Française to Director Vsevolodsky.
Director Perrin was very worried about your safety during the harsh winter journey and entrusted us to give you all necessary assistance. The Director has admired you for a long time and specifically instructed us to host you properly."
Lionel then realized: it was Émile Perrin who had pulled strings behind the scenes. He nodded:
"I sincerely thank Director Vsevolodsky and you for your hospitality, Mr. Ivanov. This is truly unexpectedly thoughtful arrangement."
Ivanov smiled:
"You are too kind, sir, it is our honor. The carriage is ready; it is cold outside, please follow me."
Lionel followed Ivanov out of the station.
A four-wheeled carriage, adorned with the theatre's emblem and pulled by two tall draft horses, was waiting by the roadside.
After getting in, Lionel noticed that the carriage interior was not only covered with thick blankets but even had a small stove in the corner, dispelling the intense cold from outside.
The carriage wheels crunched on the snow-covered streets with a "creak-creak" sound.
Lionel looked out the window; Saint Petersburg's architecture was magnificent and orderly, a panoramic view of Baroque and Neoclassical palaces, like a massive stone sculpture museum.
The carriage finally stopped in front of a grand Neoclassical building—the Alexandrinsky Theatre had arrived.
Secretary Ivanov led Lionel through the empty front hall and into the theatre auditorium, where two people came forward to meet them.
One was a slightly stout man with a short gray beard, around fifty years old; the other was a beautifully featured young woman.
The stout man warmly extended his hand:
"Mr. Sorelle, welcome to the Alexandrinsky! I am Andrei Alexandrovich Karatagin, the stage manager of this theatre. This is our lead actress, Maria Gavrilovna Savina."
His French carried almost no discernible accent; it was fluent and elegant.
Lionel returned the greeting formally:
"I have long admired your reputation, Mr. Karatagin, Ms. Savina."
He had heard of Savina's name; she was known as the most brilliant star in Russian theatre at the time, comparable to Sarah Bernhardt in Paris.
Savina returned the greeting with a smile; her French was also very fluent:
"Mr. Sorelle, it is a great delight to see you in Saint Petersburg. This spring, I saw The Choir in Paris; it was the most moving play I have seen in recent years. The combination of music and story was perfect, especially the children's singing!"
As she spoke, her eyes seemed glued to Lionel, unable to look away.
Karatagin added with regret from the side:
"We tried our utmost to bring The Choir to the Alexandrinsky. But as you know, the subject matter involved the church and children from the lower classes...
Some people thought it was too sensitive, and it ultimately did not succeed. This is a great loss for us and for the audience of Saint Petersburg!"
Lionel expressed understanding:
"Thank you both for your kind regard. This is a shared difficulty for us, whether in Paris or Saint Petersburg."
After the greetings, Karatagin and Savina personally accompanied Lionel on a tour of the theatre.
The interior decoration of the Alexandrinsky Theatre was extremely luxurious and opulent, with multiple tiers of boxes in the auditorium, capable of holding an audience comparable to the Paris Opera.
On the walls near the auditorium and stage wings, the Alexandrinsky Theatre had installed no fewer than a hundred "Yablochkov Candles."
Karatagin introduced proudly:
"Installed just this year. Although we burn through over fifty rubles every two hours, we feel it is worth it."
Lionel was inwardly shocked upon hearing this; fifty rubles was nearly 200 francs, and a typical evening performance lasted about four to five hours.
Truly, the imperial theatre of Russia did not hesitate to spend money.
Karatagin asked Lionel excitedly:
"We heard your new script requires these 'electric candles'? Why not premiere it here first? We can offer the highest royalties and box office share..."
Lionel was tempted, but he had already made a promise to Émile Perrin, so he could only decline politely for now.
Karatagin was somewhat regretful but kindly "advised" Lionel to focus his limited creative energy on drama.
The rich, long-term returns of theatre, he suggested, were the best reward for a writer's talent.
"Just like Mr. Dostoevsky in our city, who wrote novels his whole life and lived in poverty his whole life—a pity about his talent."
After the tour, Karatagin and Savina hosted Lionel at Saint Petersburg's top establishment, the "Hotel Europe," with a lavish banquet.
The rich French cuisine paired with vodka and Georgian wine created a harmonious atmosphere at the table.
Karatagin was witty and engaging, and Savina was fully aware of all Parisian trends; both pressed Lionel to stay in Saint Petersburg longer.
That evening, Lionel was invited back to the Alexandrinsky Theatre to watch Gogol's classic masterpiece, The Inspector General.
The standard of the performance was naturally very high; Savina played a supporting role with little stage time, but her entrance immediately captured the attention of the entire audience.
However, Lionel's focus was entirely on the theatre's lighting.
The abruptly bright blue-white glare, though somewhat harsh, did bring a visual impact incomparable to gaslight.
This gave him more confidence in achieving the lighting effects for Thunderstorm.
After the performance, Karatagin brought Lionel to network with Saint Petersburg's elite in the theatre's front hall.
These Russian dignitaries all spoke French with an old Parisian accent, making Lionel almost feel like he hadn't left France.
He fully experienced the treatment reserved for the elite; the Russian reverence for French culture was well-founded.
Almost every Russian gentleman wanted to invite him to stay at their home, constantly boasting about how "French" their estates were.
Several titled noble widows looked at him as if their eyes were spitting fire, clinging to his arm and refusing to let go.
It was not until late at night that Lionel managed to escape the entanglement.
After politely refusing all invitations, he hurried out of the theatre.
Only then did he notice that the streetlights in the square outside the Alexandrinsky Theatre were also using "Yablochkov Candles," illuminating the winter night street with a cool, bright light.
Secretary Ivanov escorted the exhausted Lionel to the luxurious suite in the "Hotel Europe," where the room was as warm as spring and decorated opulently.
But this entire day of "Russian hospitality bombing," combined with the fatigue from days of travel, left Lionel almost drained.
He hastily washed up, collapsed onto the soft feather mattress, and fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.
(End of Chapter)