Rehearsal

Armand told Joseph that his Spartacus was recently prepared to be staged in Paris.

"Well, is your battle hymn ready?" Joseph asked.

"No." Armand shook his head. "There still isn't a song that satisfies me. However, everyone feels that now is the best time to stage this play. It would be a great pity to miss this window. So, for the time being, we will use the one by Edgar."

Edgar was a young "composer" in Armand's circle. Much like in later generations, the number of impoverished youths in Paris at this time calling themselves "composers" was no less than those calling themselves "original musicians" in the future. Edgar was just such an "original musician." He had a few songs circulating in the small bars of the Saint-Antoine District, but writing a battle hymn for Spartacus was still a bit beyond this young man's capabilities.

"This period is the best period?" Joseph said. "From the perspective of causing a sensation, that is indeed true. However, staging this work at this time might bring you danger. Perhaps..."

Having said this, Joseph extended a finger and pointed upward, saying, "Perhaps they will throw you into the Bastille because of it."

"What is there to fear? Then I would truly be written into history." Armand replied indifferently. "At worst, I'll spend a few years inside. To trade such a price for the opportunity to be written into history, that is truly worth it!"

Since this was Armand's attitude, and Joseph also knew that, in this day and age, even if Armand were truly thrown into the Bastille, he would not stay there for long. Because once the French Revolution began, the Bastille would be stormed. And the prisoners held in the Bastille would naturally all be released. Furthermore, if Armand were to enter politics in the future, having been in the Bastille would also be a rare credential.

"Since you say so, then I will not try to persuade you." Joseph patted Armand on the shoulder and said, "In any case, take care of yourself. Hmm, when is your dress rehearsal? Shall I come over to take a look then?"

"The day after tomorrow, at the Peterson Theater. Starting at eight in the morning," Armand replied.

The Peterson Theater was located between the Saint-Antoine District and City Hall, not far from the Bastille. The Saint-Antoine District was where the poor lived, and the conditions of the theater near there naturally could not compare to those in the wealthy districts to the west. However, Armand's play was actually more suited to be performed in such a place.

"Very well, I will certainly be there," Joseph replied.

Two days later, Joseph took Lucien with him to watch the dress rehearsal of Spartacus. The rehearsal went very smoothly, including Edgar's battle hymn, but Armand kept frowning, appearing distracted and troubled.

"What's wrong, Armand?" Joseph said. "Isn't it going very smoothly? The actors' performances are also quite good."

"It's good, damn it!" Armand said. "If it weren't for that idea you gave me before, I would certainly be very satisfied right now. But, as long as it's Edgar's song, I just feel... I just feel... it's like going to a grand feast, only to find that none of the food has any salt. This is simply... it's all your fault, Joseph, damn it, if it weren't for you, I would definitely be as high-spirited as those guys right now... no, I would be even happier than them. Damn it! Damn it!"

Armand stomped his feet, said "damn it" several times in one breath, and then said to Joseph with a bitter face, "Joseph, you have to help me..."

"What can I do about this?" Joseph widened his eyes and said.

In all fairness, Edgar's song was not bad; the melody was uplifting without losing its beauty, but, it was just as Armand had complained before: "It is a bit too light. I needed the roar of an Urban Cannon, but he only gave me a trumpet."

Armand was stunned for a moment, then smiled bitterly: "That's true, if there were a way, I would have found it long ago in this much time."

Then he turned his head and said jokingly to Lucien, who was on the side: "Lucien, you are also studying music. How wonderful it would be if you could write a good song."

Unexpectedly, Lucien actually responded: "That's fine. After watching today's rehearsal, I was just wanting to give it a try."

This response was somewhat beyond Armand's expectations. He was stunned for a moment, then laughed: "Then you had better be quick. You know, this play is going to be staged in half a month."

What Armand did not expect was that four days later, Joseph suddenly brought Lucien to find him.

"Armand, take a look at this." Joseph handed a piece of paper directly to Armand.

Armand took the paper and lowered his head to look at it. Then he began to hum the melody on the paper with his nose, and finally, he suddenly raised his head and grabbed Joseph's sleeve: "Joseph, this, this is excellent! Where did this come from?"

"The music was written by Lucien," Joseph said, while glancing at Lucien. "The lyrics were written by me. Armand, what do you think?"

"What do I think? This is too good! It's so good it's as if it were from my dreams. No, I should say, even in my dreams, I have never heard such a song, otherwise, I would certainly remember it." Armand was so happy he could hardly resist dancing on the spot.

"Armand, do you think this song can be used?" Joseph asked.

"Of course, of course it can. There is nothing better than this," Armand replied, beaming with joy.

"However, Armand, if you want to use this song, I have one request," Joseph said.

"Speak, my friend. Even if you asked me to streak through the streets right now, or offer up my chaste backside, I would agree to it!" Armand replied with a loud laugh.

"Stop talking nonsense, you'll corrupt the child!" Joseph said.

"Alright, my friend, tell me your request."

"Before you have my consent, do not tell anyone else that the lyricist of this song is me, and the composer is Lucien," Joseph said.

Armand could understand this request of Joseph's. He didn't care about being thrown into the Bastille, but that didn't mean Joseph didn't care either. If he were thrown into the Bastille, it would only be his own affair, but Joseph was still supporting two underage younger brothers. If he went into the Bastille, what would happen to his brothers? Moreover, he also knew—at least he felt this way himself—that Joseph's life goal was mainly in science, and he did not want other matters to interfere too much with his research. As for Lucien, he was very talented, but after all, he was still a child under fifteen at this time, so such a matter that could lead to the Bastille naturally could not involve him.

"No problem. I give you my word of honor that without your consent, even at the Last Judgment, I will not say a word," Armand said very seriously.

"My friend, there is no need to be so serious," Joseph laughed. "I just want to avoid some unnecessary trouble."

"I know," Armand said. "I am not afraid of going to the Bastille, but I do not wish to see any of my friends in the Bastille."

Armand did not immediately take the song to the troupe for rehearsal, because if he did so, even if he didn't say who the author was, people might guess the possible authors of the song based on the fact that he had just met with Joseph and Lucien and immediately had a new song. It must be said that Armand was actually a careful person.

It was not until two days later that Armand took out the song and let the troupe try it. The effect this time was said to be very good, but Armand was still not satisfied. It was said that he felt some of the lines now seemed unworthy of this song, and many places still needed revision. And the actors also put forward many opinions regarding the stage and performance. Thus, Armand became busy again.

Another week passed, and Armand came again to invite Joseph and Lucien to visit the rehearsal of his play. However, this time, Joseph had something to do and was going on a business trip, so only Lucien went with Armand to watch this rehearsal. A few days later, when Joseph returned to Paris, the rehearsals on Armand's side were basically completed. At least, according to Lucien's view, this play "was already no worse than those works of Moliere."

But Armand still seemed unsatisfied. He now stayed in the theater all day, pacing and hesitating repeatedly over some trivial matters, and his cheekbones had become much more prominent. Joseph knew that this guy had gone down a blind alley and his mindset had gone wrong. If he were allowed to continue like this, it might not end well, perhaps resulting in a serious illness after the success of the performance, or even being "called by the Lord." Ah, no, considering the implicit satire of Christianity in his work, how could he be "called by the Lord"? He would surely be "struck by divine punishment" and dragged into hell by the devil.

However, Joseph did not wish to see Armand collapse on the stage after the successful premiere—although that might seem very aesthetic, now was not the time for Armand to fall.

Joseph knew that the so-called "problems" currently troubling Armand were not really big problems at all; no matter what decision was made, there would not be much difference. It was just that he had gone down a blind alley himself, to the point where he could not make a choice.

"Armand, have you heard such a story? There was a person who placed two identical piles of fodder at the same distance on the left and right sides of a donkey. Then, guess what happened to that donkey?" Joseph said, draping his arm over Armand's shoulder.

"I know, that donkey eventually stood in the middle and starved to death. Joseph, you really are a bad guy, you actually compared me to that stupid donkey! However, are you really sure the fodder on both sides is exactly the same?"

"Donkey! If it weren't exactly the same, would you hesitate for so long?"

"Of course it's not exactly the same, there are some differences between them. It's just that I don't know which one is better."

"In that case, that's simple." As Joseph said this, he took out a silver coin with an irregular shape (ancient Roman silver coins were minted, and generally, the shape was not a perfect circle), and said: "Use this to make a judgment. Look. This side is the statue of Bacchus, and this side is a bunch of grapes. My friend, you know that the art of tragedy originated from the sacrificial activities to this deity. Let us let Him help us make a judgment. You toss the silver coin up. If the head is facing up, it means even the god Bacchus approves of this approach; if the grapes are facing up, it means He is denying this approach. How about that?"

Bacchus was the Roman name for the Greek god of wine, Dionysus. His divine office did not include art, but considering that the art of ancient Greek tragedy originated from the sacrificial activities to Him, Joseph's suggestion to let Him make the judgment was quite appropriate.

"A Roman Denarius?" Armand took the silver coin from Joseph's hand and looked at it carefully. "It should be something from the Republic period. Perhaps the hand of Crassus (one of the ancient Roman First Triumvirate, and also the Roman consul who eventually suppressed the Spartacus uprising) once held this silver coin. It's a pity the condition is not very good; if it weren't for the grapes on the back, I would almost not recognize that the front is the head of Bacchus. However, this is truly a good thing. Hmm, let's do as you say."