The figure of Bishop Mirière remained in place, but Jean-Argent looked at him with incredulous eyes, staggering, backing back, and finally fleeing in panic and shame.

The lights of the entire stage gradually closed up, and the sides fell into darkness, leaving only the center of the stage bright, and the figure of Bishop Mirière gradually disappeared into the shadow on the left.

The figure of Jean-Argent stumbled back, crossing most of the stage, the bright halo clearly outlining the shock and shame, with embarrassment and fear, the hard shoulders and the stiff back were crumbling little by little, and the side face between the light and shadow betrayed a trace of panic, disturbing the quiet and sacred light, and finally disappeared into the shadow on the right.

The stage was empty. Only the warm light flowed, like a waterfall, quietly catharsis.

A short silence, but it leaves a lingering charm at the Almeida Theater. Just a stumbling figure reveals the shock and panic in Jean-Argent's heart, and then leaves a blank space, giving the audience enough time to savor the words of Bishop Mirière, and the chemistry begins to ferment little by little.

Marc Lacante's eyes widened, staring intently at the empty stage, his heart was beating faster, his breathing was slowing down, the contradictory silence and repression were surging in his lungs, and the tip of his tongue seemed to be able to taste the intricacies and entanglements of Jean-Argent, bitter and sweet, involuntarily, his hands clenched into fists.

Even he didn't know why.

"What have I done?" In the shadows on the right side of the stage, a light self-questioning voice was heard, but it gently plucked the strings in Mark's heart, which was a torture from the soul and a question from the conscience, and everything that had happened in the past thirty-five minutes in his mind was replayed like a marquee.

Inexplicably, Mark's eyes were covered with a layer of warmth. He witnessed the fall of Jean-Argent, but also the decay of the entire era, and all the tragedies of the era and society are condensed in this insignificant little person.

With heavy steps and drooping shoulders, the figure of Jean-Argent stepped out again, the heavy darkness slowly slipped from his shoulders, the faint light outlined the outline of the figure, the face raised high, looking for something above his head, dazed, overwhelmed, it seemed that he could not see any expression, but it caused a sigh in the depths of his heart.

Footsteps, walked to the right front of the stage, slowly and heavily kneeling on both knees, as if all the weight of the whole body fell on the knees. The whole theater was silent, there was no music, no lines, not even breathing, the dull sound of kneeling on the ground, like thunder, pounding on the heart, and even the grandeur of the whole world collapsing could be heard in the ears.

Mark's upper body couldn't help but sit up straight, trying to get closer, and then closer, the figure on the stage, close at hand, but far away in the sky, the kind of impact that has no barriers and no covers, majestically vented down, cut off all the distractions and thoughts in his mind, just stunned, stunned, stunned, sitting in place, accepting the shock baptism.

"Merciful Jesus, what have I done!"

Another heart-to-heart beating and whipping, in the panicked and unfocused eyes, slowly fainted, and the uncontrollable panic began to spread from the depths of the feet, like drowning, watching himself surrounded by the lake, but unable to struggle, unable to get rid of it, just fearful and panicked as the water rose little by little, swallowing itself little by little.

In the midst of that despair and anguish, Jean-Argen closed his eyes and slowly clenched his hands on his knees into fists, "To be a shameless thief in the night? To be a fugitive dog who has lost his family? Have I fallen so far that it is too late to regain my admiration?

The fists of both hands began to tremble slightly because they were too hard, and the whole body was trembling, and he breathed sharply, and then he stopped in place, and opened his eyes again, and the tense facial lines revealed anger, monstrous anger, "In the darkness, no one hears my roar!"

Slowly, he stood up, as if he was carrying a thousand weights on his shoulders, his knees trembled slightly, but he still stood up resolutely, that face looked up at the sky, and vented all the negative emotions in his heart towards the sacred faith in his heart, "Now, I am standing at a turning point in my life, but if fate had any other choice, then I would have missed it twenty years ago!"

"My life is a war to be lost, they gave me a string of familiarity, and then obliterated Ran-Jean!" his steps suddenly took a big step forward, so excited, so excited, so angry, the whole person stood on the edge of the stage, as if standing on the edge of a cliff, crumbling, as if as soon as a gust of wind blew, he would fall, and then shatter his bones.

But he didn't care, the fists of his hands were roaring, "They chained me and made me die in despair, and all this was just because I stole a mouthful of bread!" Anger, grievance, depression, dullness, pain, torment, sorrow, all turned into despair, dragging him down and falling.

Mark looked at the stage incredulously, dumbfounded, tears moistening his eyes before he realized it. Thirty-five minutes of foreshadowing, thirty-five minutes of accumulation, thirty-five minutes of brewing, finally broke out completely at this moment, he really felt the anger and despair of Jean-Jean, and he also really felt the helplessness and loss of Jean-Argent.

Catharsis, hearty catharsis, eruption, unreserved. Convergence, convergence, control, control, until this moment, all the emotions, all the heaviness and all the forbearance in Jean-Argent were released, so turbulent that the entire Théâtre de l'Almeida surrendered to it, and the brain went blank and could only passively accept everything.

Staggering, Ran-Rang's footsteps staggered back again, all the momentum was instantly crushed, the anger dissipated, the despair retreated, the tense shoulders and fists slackened, and it seemed that the whole person began to fall apart, one step at a time, and one step at a time, back to the center of the stage, the mighty light shrouded in his body, like the wings of an angel, gently licking his wounds.

However, this trace of tenderness made him feel pain.

If he could, he wanted to continue his hatred, to continue his anger. Because, in this way, life will be much simpler, he can hate the whole world, he can hate everyone, and then use this as an excuse to refuse all proximity and help, and go on a rampage with his own strength, in this dark age, lawlessness. Sometimes, without love and kindness, life becomes a lot simpler.

Jean-Argent stood in place, his drooping shoulders revealing a trace of fragility, his drooping head slowly raised, the soft light catching a glimmer of tears in the corners of those eyes, outlining the inner struggle and pain, the eyes hidden behind the mist, because of the distance of the stage, could not be seen clearly, but could faintly feel the helplessness of the scarred.

"But why do I allow this man to touch my soul and teach me charity? Jean-Agen took another step, walking towards the front end of the left side of the stage, as if he was approaching the light little by little, timid and expectant, frightened and joyful, the contradictory emotions were revealed in the hesitant steps, but he did not stop after all, he still took a firm step ahead, "He treats me like a normal man, he gives me his trust, he calls me a brother, he thinks God asks for the redemption of my soul, is it all true?"

Jean-Argent's footsteps paused for a moment, then retracted his forward steps, and the inner hesitation and struggle were at war between heaven and man, "Because at this point, I have deeply hated this world, and this world has always hated me. Jean-Argent retreated, returned to the center of the stage, staring blankly left and right, curled up in pain, "A tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye!

The brutal anger erupted again, between anger and ferocity, foaming at the mouth, the whole face was hideous and distorted, and the messy beard and dirty blood stained on his face made him look like a demon, who had just returned from hell, and that fierce expression spread across the entire stage.

Those eyes, those eyes that stayed in the halo but were hidden in the shadows, violence, pain, anger, cruelty, torment, torture, countless intricacies, dissolved in the mist of light, seemed to be unclear, but extremely clear, gently opened on the tip of the tongue of every audience.

Mark gritted his teeth tightly, tightly, and could smell the smell of blood under his nose, and entered the world of Jean-Argent with empathy, and felt deep despair, and then and again, and pounded so hard against his chest, dull that it ached faintly, and was so sore that he could not speak.

Involuntarily, Mark lifted his chin and tried to get closer, closer, but couldn't tell his own mixed minds. Perhaps, he wanted to stand behind Jean-Agen, to be his supporter, to fight with him, and perhaps, like Bishop Mirière, to give Jean-Agen a glimmer of hope with his kindness and tolerance.

Then Marc saw Jean-Argent raise his head and catch the tears in the halo, overflowing little by little, not fragile, not desperate, but panic, dazed, but timid. Shallow tears, but the scars in my heart are exhausted.

Jean-Argent clenched his fists again, trying his best to restrain his vulnerability, but this wisp of strength was too weak in the face of faith and goodwill, "He just needs to say it and I will go back to hell." Under the whipping, he lived in secret, but he gave me freedom, and made me ashamed and embarrassed, and my heart was like a knife!"

The eye sockets seemed to be unable to bear the weight of tears any longer, bitter and hot, sour and hot, and they slipped down like this, and Jean-Argent raised his fists with both hands, as if he wanted to do something, as if he wanted to vent something, but finally closed his eyes fiercely, put his hands down, and wailed with pain and despair on his face.