Charlene Saint-Clemont frequently accompanied her friend Edith out lately, either occupying seats at the Jacobin Club, listening to speeches and debates, or helping to sort out manuscripts at Lucile Desmoulins' house.

She wished to learn more about the cause her brother and friend were working for.

"I sometimes feel a little afraid," Charlene said one day in late October at the Desmoulins."Day and night, I hear the rumbling of the tumbrels carrying death row prisoners to the square passing by beneath my bedroom window. It makes me unable to help feeling appalled."

"Oh, don't say these demoralizing words, Charlene! The Law of Suspects is meant to rid France of its festering sores. The guillotine continuously kills enemies, but it brings new life to the Republic!" Edith immediately stopped her friend's complaints.

Charlene obediently lowered her eyes."I think you're always right, Edith."

But Lucile shook her head, looking just as apprehensive."You'll only truly understand this feeling when you become a mother too! Only women have this kind of empathy. We've borne children, we know how difficult it is to create a life. Yet the men indulge in the thrill of power. When a life passes away in their hands, they only give a shudder!"

Edith leaned in."This special period will quickly pass, Citizeness Desmoulins. When all the enemies of liberty are eliminated, we'll enjoy a happiness like never before!"

"I hope so, my friend. My husband Camille is also a little worried. His heart is always soft." Lucile stroked her son's hair."My poor little Horace, my sweet boy! I think I gave birth to you too early."

"At least he was born in a great republican era," Edith added.

"Yes, but children should only know about play and peace!" Lucile sighed.

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In November, Andre and Philippe received orders from the Committee to serve as representatives on mission in guiding the suppression of the revolt in the Vendée.

Philippe was delighted to receive this task. His intimate schoolmate, Sacha, who went back to his hometown of Vendée as a lawyer after graduation, became an honorable republican when the Revolution arrived.

This young man with a feminine appearance, thin and hunched figure, always wearing a shy smile on his face, unfortunately died in the March massacre in Machecoul this year. The rebellious peasants who resisted conscription applied the punishment of impalement and brutally dismembered him.

"Every time I think of patriots like Sacha, suffered such a tragic fate, the blood in my veins burns with rage!"

Philippe paced back and forth in the living room.

"These ignorant and superstitious stupid peasants! They are not willing to fight for the Republic, for their own liberty, yet very willing to die for the noble lords!" He viciously swung his fist down.

"Perhaps the revolution did not make people understand it." Margot in the armchair spoke in a soft tone.

"As the poor, they actually stood on the side of the counter-revolutionaries! How ridiculous! However, these rebels won't be rampant for long!" Philippe gnashed his teeth in response.

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In the room, Andre bid farewell to Edith, embracing her tightly and saying,"Forgive me, my love. How I hate to leave you! But the Committee's orders are absolute."

"Why not let me go together with you, Andre?" Edith looked up at him, her eyes pleading.

He shook his head solemnly."Vendée is in unrest. I cannot put you in danger."

"You've seen my courage! Whatever you can face, I can face it too!" Edith retorted loudly.

"After we get in Vendée, there are no carriages, Edith. We have to ride on horses through maze-like forests and ravines. Rebel guerrillas could snipe at any moment."

"I've ridden horses before in the countryside! I can jump over fences nearly one meter high! I fear nothing!" Edith said with pride.

Andre hesitated for a moment and nodded."Very well."

He took out a dagger and a small pistol from the drawer and handed them to Edith.

"Then keep these two things with you at all the time. Can I trust you to protect yourself, Edith?" He gazed at her seriously.

"Of course." The girl smiled proudly.

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In the forest of Vendée, the leaves had already fallen, baring the naked branches, creating an atmosphere of solemnity and foreboding.

Edith rode her horse with body straight, her first venture out into the wilderness a thrilling experience.

Andre and Philippe rode ahead and behind her. She couldn't see their expressions, but she could sense the tense and heavy aura emanating from the men, dampening any mood in her to admire the scenery around.

Nearby accompanying them was a patriot named Old Dupierre, an impressive figure with a hard, hairy, reddish-brown square face. Before the revolution, he was probably a butcher.

Suddenly, Edith heard the sound of some animal.

"The hoot of an owl! Rebels are nearby!" Old Dupierre immediately held up his gun in alert.

Andre instinctively stretched his arm backwards, trying to shield Edith.

Edith forced herself to calm down and cautiously looked around.

Nothing happened. Only the whistling of the wind echoed in their ears.

As they emerged from the forest, they saw the village in the distance.

They passed a solitary mill. A middle-aged man stood at the door of the small cabin next to it, arms crossed, staring at them with hostility.

Three heads appeared at the small window: a peasant woman with a headscarf, and two children, one big and one small, all peering at them with wary eyes.

Edith suppressed her heartbeat, quietly grasping the pistol under her skirt.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!" With a series of deafening gunshots, the entire family fell to the ground in an instant.

Edith looked panic-stricken at Old Dupierre, who was smugly putting away his long-barrelled gun.

"Kneel!" a cold and stern voice echoed.

Andre drew his sword from his waist and pressed it against the butcher's shoulder. His face was pale in rage, blue veins standing out on his hand gripping the hilt of the sword, his blonde hair fluttering in the wind, as if a god presiding over judgment.

The short and sturdy bod opened his mouth, seemingly attempting to argue, yet overwhelmed by the majesty of the man before him. He went down on his knees and lowered his head.

"What do you want? Turn here into another Nantes?!" ①Andre questioned sharply. His slim fit military uniform clung to his chest, which heaved up and down, as if he were trying to restrain strong emotions of grief and anger.

Old Dupierre muttered a few words but didn't dare to speak aloud.

Andre gestured to the attending soldiers, "Confiscate his weapons, tie him up, and take him back to the barracks."

"The people's court will decide your fate." He threw the last words at the big guy with disgust.

"This is unfair!" After Dupierre was taken away, Philippe immediately led his horse over and complained loudly, "You're too harsh on Old Dupierre!"

Andre coldly glanced down at him. "What, Philippe! The Revolution brings salvation and liberation, not fratricide!"

"Fratricide?" Philippe laughed sarcastically, as if he heard something unbelievable. Then he roared with fury, even his voice trembling, "when they slaughtered the patriots in Machecoul, did they regard us as fraters? As they nailed Sacha to a stake and chopped off his limbs, did they regard him as a frater? Whereby should it be us?!"

This brave, almost reckless young man finally could no longer suppress his emotions and burst into a sob, "Ah, what's the point of our sacrifice, if we die at the hands of the people we fight for!"

He crouched down, covering his face with his hands, sobbing and weeping.

Andre jumped off his horse and knelt in front of Philippe, silently laying his hand on his friend's shaking shoulder.

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"Perhaps I could convince these peasants! I will explain to them the principles of revolution, and warm up their hearts with the ideals of the Republic!" After riding in silence for a while, Edith seemed to have taken a resolution and galloped closer to Andre.

"What?" Andre was stunned for a moment, then he grabbed Edith's hand anxiously and said, "No! You mustn't entertain such naive ideas. They won't listen to you. These people can never be persuaded with a few words. You will only put yourself in danger!"

Edith's lips framed a few words, but stopped under the distressed gaze of her lover.

Andre sighed and held her shoulders tightly. "Promise me that you won't talk to strangers easily, let alone be alone with the locals, and reveal your identity, okay? Edith, darling!"

The young girl nodded bleakly.

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

In the evening, the group ultimately arrived at the army camp. They were greeted by a fat republican official with a obsequious smile always on his face.

"Hahaha, Citizen Representative- on-mission, you've had a hard journey!" The official flattered and followed Andre closely. "I've prepared a sumptuous feast to welcome you all and wash away the dust!"

Edith and the others were led into a spacious and brightly lit dining room. The glitzy candles made the room ablaze with light, and the long table was filled with vintage wine and dainty dishes, some of which Edith couldn't even name. This weighed heavily on her and she cast an uneasy glance at Andre at her side.

Andre remained expressionless, entirely ignoring the official's greetings, and led Edith and Philippe straight to the table. He scanned the food in front, focusing his cold gaze on the official across from him, but did not pick up his utensils.

The official felt the oppressive atmosphere at the table and tried to liven things up, pretending nothing was wrong. He raised his champagne glass first, squeezing out an exaggerated ingratiating smile, and said to everyone in a casual way, "Cheers to the unified and indivisible Republic!"

"Unified and indivisible Republic?" Andre stood up suddenly, his voice stern. "It's exactly worms like you who have been eating away at our motherland, tearing her apart!"

He reached out and grabbed the fat officer by his collar of a piece of silk and flung it up and down, no warmth in his tone: "What's this you're wearing here, eh?"

The official turned pale, as if there was a gun pointed at his forehead, and dared not move.

Perhaps reminiscing the peasant family under the gun of Old Dupierre, Andre's voice took on a tone of tragedy. "What exactly are we fighting for? Is it for equality that we shout, only to replace those in power with ourselves throughout! Yes, you may also repeat that privilege is a crime, but why? Because the person sitting on the throne is not yourself!Why should the people support the revolution, if it only means replacing one set of masters with another?"

His words were because of the silk-clad official who stood before him, yet not directed at him.

"Take these foods down and distribute them all to the soldiers at grass-root level." Andre gestured to the National Guard soldier standing behind him, his voice returning to its usual calm.

"Yes, citizen."

He continued to give orders, decisive and quick: "Compile a list of the patriots and destitute in this area, the starving orphans and widows. Make all the local aristocrats and bankers hand half of their food and money, prioritizing the relief of the poor, with the remainder used as military rations. Take the silk and fur off the rich and turn them into blankets for the freezing common people!"

He pointed again at the fat official shivering in front of him. "Including you."

"Those who refuse to carry out the order, ask them to hand in their own heads." Andre waved his hand in the air without emotion. "Now go!"

　　
***Author's Notes***

①The drowning at Nantes refers to the retaliatory large-scale executions carried out by the republican army against the Vendée peasant rebellion in November 1793. More than 10,000 people were killed during this period, attributed to the local representative-on-mission Carrier.

During the same period, the Lyon Massacre, Toulon Massacre, and a series of smaller-scale massacre incidents also occurred. "Counter-revolutionary enemies" who were killed even included many infants who were not yet one year old. The reason for this can be attributed to the almost unlimited power of the representatives-on-mission to provinces and the lack of supervision.

②As the women speak of their fears and dreams,
Revolution churns, tearing at the seams.
Will their hopes and prayers be realized,
Or will they be consumed by this bloody tide?

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Vote/comment to bring peace to Vendée!