"Brother, everything is packed and ready. I have checked them again for you," Charlene Saint-Clemont said as she wheeled herself closer to Raphael. "It is time to depart."

"...Truly going to flee? Just me alone?" He continued to gaze at the stained tricoloured badge on the table, his eyes vacant as he murmured.

"You are leaving for my sake, dear Raphael," Charlene's voice was gentle yet resolute. "I implore you, command you, to preserve the last family ties for me, this lonely, helpless maiden."

Upon hearing these words, his gaze shifted towards her. "Then, what about you? My sister! Abandon you, far away from home all alone! "

"They would not do anything to a poor paralytic like me," Charlene smiled and shook her head. "Don't you remember? Four years ago, when people stormed into our castle, torches held high, their faces ablaze with such rage, only to turn to pity upon seeing me in this state! After all, what use am I to them, a disabled girl who cannot even stand up?"

"If you insist on taking me along, it will only burden us both, dear brother!" She appeared so fragile in this moment, yet possessed a power that convinced from the depths of one's soul.

Edith entered the room with slow steps, her heart heavy, and asked, "Are you prepared, Raphael?"

"Thank you, Edith. I knew you would come," Charlene turned, offering her friend a serene smile. "I'm afraid only with your presence, will Brother be willing to set off!"

Raphael paced around the room anxiously, his long boots leaving heavy echoes upon the floor.

"I'm just so cowardly in your eyes! All the comrades stay, awaiting the verdict of fate, only I alone, must flee Paris under the shroud of night, like a condemned criminal!" His voice rang out with agitation.

"It's merely a precaution, Raphael," Edith's voice was dry. "Even if the Committees really dare to take action, the people will rally all their strength to shield Citizen Danton and Desmoulins. I believe the citizens of the Revolutionary Tribunal will deliver a just verdict!"

Raphael scoffed, "A just verdict! If such a thing still exists, how would Danton and us face the threat of arrest now?"

Charlene braced her arms on the wheelchair armrests, and exchanged a worried glance with her friend. "There's no more time to hesitate, Brother. Every minute and every second of delay deepens your peril!"

Raphael came to a halt and languidly entered the small room where the pack was placed.

"I'll go check on him," Edith sighed, gesturing to Charlene.

As Edith closed the door behind her, Saint-Clemont all at once leaned his body against the bookshelf as if drained of vitality. Days of sleep deprivation and spirits had left this former nobleman dizzy and feverish; his present state of health was truly wretched.

"Fate is always deceiving me," he spoke again, his gaze sombre, his voice hoarse and faint. "Once, you told me I was noble, with noble blood flowing through my veins. But later, people dismissed it as a cruel joke. I followed your instructions to engage in noble pursuits, believing for a time that I had attained true nobility, only to be utterly denied now again!"

Edith found herself unable to utter a word. She watched as Raphael walked toward the writing desk, his eyes fixed on the dim, oppressive night beyond the window.

"Is this my punishment?" he ground his teeth together, the sound gnashing in the air. "Merely because you belong to him, my daring to yearn for your pity is an unforgivable sin in his eyes! And this is how he intends to punish me!"

"Rein in yourself, Raphael!" She felt that he was indulging himself in a path leading to a lamentable conclusion. From behind, she took hold of the young man's icy hand.

"Come away with me, Edith! I beg of you!" He suddenly turned around, gripping her hand tightly.

"What?" she gazed at him, stunned.

Raphael grew more and more agitated, almost gasping for breath as he spoke, "Can't you see it yet? That Quenet you love and his fellows have sold their souls to Belial! Their greed for blood knows no bounds. He will eventually kill us, kill you, and ultimately, kill himself!"

"Enough, Raphael! Stop these wild thoughts," she shivered, interrupting the youth in haste, turning away from him, her voice striving to sound calm. "I'll stay behind to take care of Charlene for you. You can go to Caen without worries. Danton...they will regain their innocence, and the three of us will soon reunite!"

"There won't be such a day. There won't. Today, once I leave, it will be farewell forever! I know it in my heart! Edith, ah, Edith!"

He collapsed into the chair, one hand pressing against his eyes, trembling all over, his heart on the verge of breaking. "Ah, to exile me at this moment, what difference does it make from pronouncing my death sentence!"

"Pull yourself together, dear Raphael!" Edith leaned over him, her words feeling feeble and pale even to herself.

She was desperate to distract him from his gloomy thoughts. Catching sight of the violin placed in the corner, she anxiously blurted out, "Play one more piece for me! How long has it been since I last heard your music?"

"Yes, play one more piece! The final piece!" Raphael would never disobey her words. He dragged his feet, as if exerting great effort, to reach the corner and picked up that dusty old violin.

He had not yet suppressed the convulsion running through his body, almost struggling to steady the instrument. However, as he began, the music that flowed from the bow strings was gentle and masterful, soothingly pouring forth.

This melody was unfamiliar to her. Amazed, she looked at Raphael, only to find that the young man had closed his eyes. Only the light-coloured long lashes trembled along with the movement of his arm, as if enduring pain.

Edith felt the rippling and murmuring sound of the violin carrying her into a realm of meditation. She too closed her eyes and saw the serene new moon rising, its radiant light ethereally enveloping her being. Lost in the mist, she wandered aimlessly, her heart filled with the hesitant desire to seek someone's trace.

She heard the intoxicating roll of the waves crashing upon the shore, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. It was an ethereal, sleep-inducing melody, ascending from the earth and drifting slowly towards the sky. Those elusive and mysterious notes twirled and danced around her, occasionally passing through her ears, traversing her mind, and then leaping into her sight, guiding her in a direction unknown.

But suddenly, the lingering sound of the violin changed, and a storm swept away the mist, plunging the surroundings into a deeper darkness. The bright moon sorrowfully faded into obscurity behind the dark clouds; the chilly autumn wind howled in her ears, causing the ghostly silhouettes of the trees to sway, scattering their branches and leaves.

Involuntarily, the maiden stood up from her seat, clutching the shawl tightly around her chest. Through the thick layers of mist, she seemed to catch a glimpse of the tall figure with flowing blonde hair in the distance. He stood solitary at the edge of the cliff, swaying dangerously with the tumultuous tempest, on the verge of tumbling down into the devouring tide of terror below, erasing any trace of his existence.

Fear gripped her heart. She yearned to call out to him, but when she opened her mouth, she didn't know whose name to utter. The music encircling the entire world had transformed into a requiem, wailing for the fatality of a young life cut short.

With a jarring and quivering sound of the bowstring, the impassioned music abruptly ceased. Edith awakened from the dreamlike melancholy, her eyes fluttering open and closed, as hot tears welled up and streamed down. Her heart felt empty, yet a sense of relief washed over her.

Unconsciously, she approached Raphael, her lips shivering, wanting to plead for him to continue. But the violin suddenly crashed to the ground; the bewitching melody of this elegy all at once overwhelmed the despairing performer, who finally couldn't contain himself any longer, burying his face in his elbow.

His agitated state frightened her, yet also infected her soul, making her unable to resist the urge to draw closer to him.

Suddenly, Raphael cast aside the bow in his hand and forcibly embraced Edith in his arms, pressing her bosom tightly against his chest, kissing her lips in a frenzy.

"Raphael!" she cried out in alarm, but was immediately enveloped by the scorching heat of his lips.

She reached out to push his shoulder, but her efforts were feeble. Like a drowning man gasping for his last breath of faint air from the surface, he greedily and hopelessly drank from her lips and tongue, blind to everything else.

Their noses collided as his hand pressed her turning head towards his own lips like mad. Edith tasted the salty bitterness of their mingled tears, her mind becoming even more disoriented and bewildered.

"Raphael!" She finally regained some strength, her voice taking on a calm tone of persuasion.

This time, Raphael didn't struggle anymore. He allowed her to push him onto the writing desk, tilting his head to the side, the expression on his face resembling someone who had just committed homicide. A strand of disheveled golden hair from their previous passion hung over his forehead, concealing his blue eyes devoid of all luster.

Edith stood in place, initially glaring at him annoyed, but as she saw this state of him, her eyes gradually softened with pity.

"Forgive me," he murmured in a barely audible voice after a while, his gaze still fixed on the void before him.

"Forgive me," he repeated. Then, he hastily grabbed his belongings and stumbled out of the dimly lit room, leaving Edith behind.

Edith remained there for a while, until the flickering candlelight was extinguished by a gust of cold wind, plunging the surroundings into utter darkness. Slowly, she followed out, but the young man's figure was no longer visible in the foyer.

From the shadows, Citizeness Saint-Clemont wheeled into her sight. Upon meeting her gaze, Edith understood that no further explanations were needed.

With a tinge of sadness and regret, Charlene lowered her head to her dear friend. "I'm sorry, Edith."

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

Edith leaned against the door of her own bedroom, her hand reaching towards her still shaking lips, feeling a mix of chafe and tenderness towards Raphael in her heart.

She sensed that through that fiery and desperate kiss, he had infused her entire being with a sort of devastating poetry.

"But what's wrong with me now?" she whispered to herself in perplexity, "On my side, have I not always felt only compassion towards him?"

She then recalled the uncanny, dramatic resemblance between Raphael and Andre.

"Perhaps, he's just too much like Andre!" she sighed to herself, "Like that frank, gentle Andre of the past!"

A soft knock on the door startled her. Andre's weary yet earnest voice, separated by a thin plank, came as if near her ear, "Edith? Can we talk? Just a few words!"

Her lips hesitated, moving ever so slightly.

"I'm tired," she replied in a low voice at last.

There was a moment of silence outside the door, and his footsteps remained frozen in place. She heard the muffled sound of his forehead pressing against the door. After what felt like an eternity, those footsteps gradually moved away, sounding like the glide of a ghost.

Edith did not open the door.

The next morning, when the girl arose, she noticed that Aunt Adele wore an expression of both anxiety and relief.

"Quenet moved out on his own last night," she explained, avoiding eye contact but speaking in a quite light tone, "I suppose he also feels that he no longer fits in our home."

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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