On 15th January, 1793, the second floor of the conference hall was packed with people. Edith squeezed her way among the crowd to witness this historic moment.

One by one, the representatives went up to vote, deciding the fate of the former king Louis Capet.

From the staircase below, Edith caught sight of Andre waiting in line, his countenance with aplomb and his head held high.

A Girondist in front of him called for reprieve for the king, causing a chorus of boos from the surrounding audience.

Andre Quenet strode confidently onto the podium, his hands planted on the table and his body leaning forward.

"I vote for Death," he declared, his tone steady and unwavering.

"...I see the crocodile tears are already stirring your hearts to sympathy. Someone wants to exploit the people''s weakness and kindness to serve his own conspiracy." He began to expound on his reasoning, his voice resonant yet his tone becoming increasingly infused with heartfelt tearful rage, "But think about it, citizens, think about those children in rags with nothing to wear, think about the innocent people who perished in hunger and despair! Are we entitled to condone a tyrant on their behalf? Are we worthy of showing mercy to a criminal who oppressed us?!"

The people around Edith couldn''t help but nod at each other in agreement, "Well said!"

Edith smiled as she watched his tall and straight figure. She led the applause, thunderous clapping ringing throughout the hall.

"That''s all." The young man stepped down from the podium.

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"Your speech just now was truly excellent!" Edith bounced over to Andre after the meeting.

Perhaps too eager to share her feelings, or perhaps swept up in the exhilarating atmosphere, the young girl momentarily forgot about the grudge she held against the youth before her. Her face, tanned from the sun, shone brightly as she merrily twirled the white square scarf that was tied in a knot at her chest with her pinky finger.

Like most women on the street at that time, Edith did not adorn herself much. Her plain, solid-coloured dress complemented her Spartan maiden''s temperament: the narrow skirt hung almost straight down without any superfluous trim or pattern, nor deliberately accentuate her curves. It was a dress that the artists of the time who passionately worshiped the natural beauty of ancient Greece would not hesitate to praise. However, she did not choose the most fashionable white dress, which symbolized the virtue of purity, but instead chose bright goose-yellow. The scarf d□□d over her shoulder only had vibrant red and blue stripes embroidered on the edges, forming a wide triangular shape that hung down her back like a flag. Her bonnet was of the simplest style, casually covering the back of her head and taming some of her unruly curls. Yet the tricoloured cockade on the brim was carefully pinned, showing no signs of wobbling or slipping as the girl moved and jumped freely.

Compared with hers, Andre''s attire was quite fancy. The lace sleeves of his white shirt flared out like morning glory from the cuffs of his outer coat. His snowy-white cravat was tied into a large, dramatic bow tightly fastened at his throat, seeming to make it difficult for him to relax his posture. The rosy coat was paired with a matching vest, cinched tightly at the waist, while the fabric may have been too shiny, which detracted from its solemnity. Combined with his meticulously styled shoulder-length hair, his entire ensemble gave off a playboy impression, conflicting yet cleverly resonating with his upright and serious demeanor.

As the duo stood opposite each other on the porch of the Tuileries Palace, one looking up and the other looking down, talking and laughing, they formed an interesting contrast - perhaps something rare to see in both the past and future eras. If a conformist were to witness this, they would probably shake their head at the inversion of gender hues. Nevertheless, if one were to look at the pair of birds on a nearby tree branch, it would be difficult to deny that these two youngsters were exactly following the ingenious design of nature.①

"Virtually, it was inspired by you."Andre smiled in response to her praise.

"Me?"

"Don''t you remember the words you said to me by the Seine in Rouen, about the boundary between true compassion and hypocrisy?" The young man reminded her.

"I''m afraid my memory is not clear, but it''s surprising that a passing remark from my childhood would leave such a deep impression on you!" Edith was sort of amazed. Fortunately, she didn''t recall that beautiful head of the miracle angel.

"You''ve possessed a gift for repartee since you were young. Your brilliance is enough to inspire everyone," he said, looking at her intently.

"I suppose that''s a compliment," Edith shrugged, "but what''s the use? The articles of Citizeness Lucile are first-rate as well, but they can only be published under her husband''s name. Even the great Citizeness Roland cannot become the centre to drive the debate. It''s so unfair!"

"Do you want more people to hear your voice? I''ve got some savings, enough to start a newspaper dedicated to publishing your essays. How about that?"

"Really?!" Edith''s exclamation attracted many curious glances even in the noisy hallway.

Andre smiled at her and said, "Since you''re willing, why not come together to my place?"

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Andre''s small room was located in an old-times official''s mansion that had been converted since the revolution into an apartment building for patriots.

The room was situated in a mezzanine built between floors, with a ceiling so low that it almost forced one to stoop.

The girl looked around excitedly. "I thought that with your income now, you would at least be living in better conditions than before."

"Well, since I''m living alone, there''s no need to furnish the place," Andre replied.

"You''re not painting anymore? The room is full of files and manuscripts."

"Painting cannot save France," Andre chuckled. "Certainly, I don''t mean to satirize the patriots in the Committee of Art. Art is still necessary for education."

"I need to come up with a pen name for myself," Edith said, her fingers tapping together in vivacious imagination.

"What do you think of ''Liberty''?" Andre suggested. "Aren''t you ''Lady Liberty''?"

"Ah, so you''ve heard about that, too! But ''Liberty'', a wonderful idea! Especially since the word is feminine." Edith smiled heartily.

"If you have any ideas now, you can directly write here so I can take it for printing today," Andre pointed the low writing desk.

"Of course! I can write a dozen articles anytime!" With a proud toss of her head, Edith sat down at the desk.

"Let me think... The title will be, hmm, ''On the Virtue of Revolution,''" she became inspired, her pen flying across the paper in elegant and strong strokes.

Soon, she held up the page to Andre. "I''m finished."

Andre eagerly read her words. "Fantastic! You can''t imagine how many editors would crave this capacity of yours," He couldn''t help but slap the paper, almost shouting. "They complain that the demand of journalism for speed is a tomb for talent. But you, Edith, such a piece, concise yet rich, plain yet beautiful! Who could have imagined that it would be completed in such a short time, if not for me witnessing it with my own eyes!"

"Your tone makes me think of our teacher-student days again," Edith said proudly. "Since there''s nothing to be revised, let me sign it with my new pen name."

She took the manuscript, and signed it with a flourish: "Liberty."

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On the second day, Andre walked up to Edith with a gratified smile and told her, "Our new Lady Liberty was a great success. We sold hundreds of copies on the first morning. Readers are raving about your On the Virtue of Revolution."

"Incredible!" Edith was overjoyed, her eyes widening in disbelief.

"Who knows," Andre said with a grin, "perhaps one day your popularity will surpass that of Girondin''s The French Patriots and Marat''s The Friend of People."

Overwhelmed by self-forgetful happiness, Edith threw herself into Andre''s arms like in childhood, nearly knocking him off balance.

"Ah, you''re such a good friend!" she exclaimed, lost in ecstasy.

The youth was taken aback, then blushed as her soft hair brushed against his throat, causing a slight itch.

He hesitated, raising his hand then lowered it, and raised it again in an attempt to embrace her fine back, but she slipped out of his arms like a bird, landing agilely at the writing desk.

She had already begun to write her next article at lightning speed.

"So, are we officially reconciled now?" he shook his head, laughing at himself.

"Sure," Edith replied, playfully tilting her lips. "Written off!"

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That evening, at the dinner table, Edith launched a surprise attack.

"I''ve decided to change my surname to ''Liberty''," she announced, her words muffled by the food in her mouth. "my father''s surname is not pleasant to hear."

"Oh, Notre Dame! My nerves are starting to ache again. I can''t control you grown-up children!" Aunt Adele exclaimed, pressing her temples. "With Miss Edith Liberty in the house, next we''ll have Monsieur Philippe Fraternity, and maybe someday I''ll be made Aunt Adele Republic! Well, do as you please! I''m old, I can''t care for so much!"

"I support every decision of yours, Edith," Margot consoled her mother, patting her arm, still smiling gently at her younger sister.

Later, Edith told Andre about changing her surname.

"So now, ''Liberty'' really is me!" She leaned back on the revolutionary''s writing desk with both hands, jollily swinging her legs back and forth.

"Not bad, but are you emulating that Duke Philippe ?galité? He''s no good exemplar!" Andre commented.②

"You shouldn''t speak that way of Citizen Philippe ?galité! For a nobleman to understand and support the revolution, isn''t it even more estimable?" Edith immediately retorted, displeased.

"You don''t understand. People like him have their own calculations. Don''t assume everyone too kind-hearted," Andre shook his head.

"Didn''t he decisively vote for the death of Louis Capet?"

"Behind this was a plot by the royalists. Edith, you''re too young and naive," Andre made an impatient gesture.

"It''s he who turned the Palais-Royal into the birthplace of the Revolution!" Edith raised her voice.

"The Revolution needs no birthplace. The Revolution was given birth by the hearts of people," Andre said coldly.

The girl was momentarily speechless, sulking on the creaky chair.

There was a brief silence in the cramped room.

"But why should we make each other upset for an old man of the royal family?" Andre laughed suddenly. "Like we did in the past, every time after an argument, we held hands and made up immediately, can''t we do it again?"

He reached for her hand, yet she dodged it.

"I was a child then, but now I am a woman!" Edith was instead a bit provoked. "You''re belittling my opinion."

He sighed, leaning towards her once again, his words earnest. "Please. I beg you."

She remained silent, turning her body towards the other side. Andre circled around and knelt beside her, clasping his hands together in a pitifully submissive gesture.

"Edith?" His blue, watery eyes gazed directly at her. "Didith, Dodith, Ditoto..."

The girl suddenly burst into laughter. "Oh, stop it! Who gave you permission to call me that?"

Andre also broke into a smile. This leader, cold as ice in the National Convention, now looked like a carefree big child.

She opened her palms towards him, their hands lightly interlocked on her skirt. Despite the winter day, the room felt warm and cozy.