21st January, another fateful day.

Today, the former king Louis Capet was to be executed on the Place of the Revolution in Paris.

Crowds gathered early in the morning, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the tumbrel.

Aunt Adele declared that she couldn''t bear this farce, demanding that the curtains be drawn shut.

Margot apologised that she had to stay home to keep the agitated mother company, so Edith went to the scene with only her cousin Philippe.

The maiden was wearing a scarlet dress with a floral wreath today, d□□d in a colourful shawl, standing out in the throngs of people.

The king was led off the carriage. Unlike the dismay during his trial, he now appeared brave and admirable.

With his hands bound behind him, Louis XVI suddenly broke free from the grip of the executioner, rushing towards the edge of the guillotine, shouting to the audience:

"I die innocent. I forgive those who have sentenced me to death. May my death be the last to stain the soil of France with blood!"

The sound of the drums announcing the execution interrupted his confession.

These words were poignant.

However, like most people here, Edith felt little emotion. The speeches of patriots like Andre had beat her a cordial.

As the chopper fell, the crowd erupted into a deafening cheer.

Beside her, Philippe raised his arms in joyous triumph. Edith, however, did not smile.

She looked around and caught a glimpse of that beautiful bouncing blonde hair in the crowd.

Andre pushed his way through the mass, striding towards the siblings. Walking with his head held high and his shoulders tense, he exuded an aura of magnificence.

"How do you feel now, Edith?" he asked, standing next to her.

"I will not cheer loudly for someone''s death," Edith replied solemnly, "but the overthrow of a tyrant burst ecstasy to my heart.

"You have matured a lot," Andre marveled.

Gun salute thundered out in the air, heralding the dawn of a new era.

People hugged and kissed each other, their faces beaming with genuine smiles. The surging crowd pushed Edith until she almost lost her footing.

"Can I hold your hand, Citizen Andre?" Edith had to shout to be heard over the noise.

Andre extended one of his hand, yet Edith grabbed both of his.

Stretching her arms, she twirled him around and around, her bright red skirt fluttering as if it had come to life. Andre watched the girl''s mouth curve from a slight grin to an irresistible burst of laughter.

"Ah, I''m sorry, I''m too easily influenced by the atmosphere!" Edith laughed so hard that she could barely stand up straight.

"You also too easily infect others," Andre saw the carefree expression on the girl''s face, simmering with laughter as well. "Now I''ve become a heartless one too."

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On hearing that Roland had resigned as Minister of the Interior, Edith hurried to visit Madame Roland.

"It was I who made my husband resign," Madame Roland told her. "The death of the king contained too many unsettling factors. The revolution is like a runaway horse that can no longer be tamed. I am afraid that the scenes like the September Massacre will eventually be repeated."

"The September Massacre! You are using the language of the aristocrats and royalists!" Edith exclaimed in agitation.

"Wasn''t the event in September an insult to the ideals of the revolution?" Madame Roland countered.

"The people''s anger was just! Perhaps the means were not strictly legal, but those so-called victims were not innocent either! How could the soldiers of the Republic march to the front with peace of mind, if not eliminating the enemies threatening their loved ones from behind? Your words are nothing but harsh criticism!" Edith protested, her cheeks puffed up in wrath.

"Is that so? There was too much animalistic indulgence in that, pardon me for not complimenting it," Madame Roland replied coldly.

Edith slammed her hand on the table and stood up.

"Ah, yes, you are the only daughter of a wealthy family. You had governess and learned piano, dance, and etiquette, nothing different from those noble ladies at the top!"

Her shoulders were trembling as she yelled at her most admired idol.

"You have never run in the darkest alleys of the city, never seen those women who sold their dignity for a piece of bread, or the barefoot children with famished pallor! But I have seen them. You are right, in September there was a disgusting massacre. But are these women, these children not also victims of a massacre? Is this slow, soul-tearing slaughter not even more cruel than the momentary pain inflicted by blade and axe? "

Madame Roland seemed somewhat shaken. She looked serious and leaned back slightly on the chair.

"You are deliberately disregarding the suffering on the other side! I respect you, but I must say this: you lack justness!" Edith dropped the sentence, rushing out of Madame Roland''s mansion.

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That evening, as Margot pushed open the door to her bedroom, she was greeted by the sight of her sister sitting on the edge of the bed in her nightgown, her eyes swollen and red from weeping.

"I yelled at her like that! Madame must hate me now! I don''t think she''ll ever let me in again!" Edith''s expression was one of utmost dejection.

"Oh, my poor sister. I don''t think Madame Roland will mind for too long," Margot couldn''t help but feel a pang of sympathy. She put down the candle and sat down beside her sister on the bed, wrapping her arm around Edith''s shoulders.

"But Margot, I don''t regret what I said! I still believe that my understanding of liberty is more profound than that of Madame''s! "Edith''s voice was choked with emotion.

"I believe you. You know I''m always on your side," Margot soothed her as she ran her fingers through Edith''s tousled hair.

Edith clung to Margot''s waist, sniffling and pouting. "Sister, tonight I want to sleep with you. Like when we were little, squeezed together on one bed. Is that okay?"

Margot smiled resignedly.

Edith buried her head in Margot''s soft bosom, just as she did in their childhood. She had cried tired, soon drifting off to sleep.

In the darkness, Margot kissed Edith''s forehead. "Goodnight, my dear Edith."

-----------------

The Jacobin Club was packed that evening.

Philippe sat in a seat on the edge, while Edith pushed Charlene''s wheelchair, insisting on standing by his side in the aisle.

Andre followed Robespierre onto the stage to deliver a speech against Roland.

"...but Roland has retreated," he spoke calmly, hardly glancing at the notes in his hand. "He claims to be a patriot, yet abandons his responsibility when the republic needs him most. And what for? The death of a tyrant!"

"No wonder you are fixated on him!" Charlotte quipped, turning her head back towards her friend with a playful smile. "This Quenet of yours truly looks like a Helios!"

Edith blushed and gave her friend a light pat on the shoulder.

Indeed, he looked particularly handsome tonight. The lights highlighted his square and graceful jawline, adding more colour to his otherwise too pale cheeks.

As the speech ended, a sharp male voice suddenly broke out in the hall.

"I accuse Quenet of being an aristocrat! His position is suspicious!" He pointed his arm mercilessly at Andre on stage.

"What''s the evidence?" Andre was unmoved, coolly questioning in return.

Another person in the crowd shouted, "Someone saw you frequently entering a lord''s castle in Vendée! Just in last year!"

At this, Andre appeared to become uneasy. Edith saw him slightly moved back, his arm on the lectern tense, while the other hand unconsciously pulled at his bow tie hanging from his chest.

Inside the club were still many supporters of Roland. Dissatisfied with the accusations made by the speaker, they chimed in one after another, demanding an investigation into the allegation against Quenet.

As Andre remained silent, the audience burst into an uproar, people began to murmur in a flurry amongst themselves.

Suddenly, a ringing voice stopped the commotion: "I demand to speak."