In the prison, Margot displayed an unimaginable strength. Those who emerged from the battle as victors were eager to coerce the relatives of their victims, forcing them to utter the desired testimonies, in order to add credibility to their own defamation, and turn their infamy of abandoning colleagues into righteous deeds.

In the eyes of these men, Edith was clearly the young sister of the family, while Aunt Adele was aged and feeble, thus most of the interrogations fell upon Margot's shoulders.

Under the pretext of continuing the questioning, they detained the frail black-haired girl in the committee, depriving her of food and rest for two consecutive days and nights.

When Margot was roughly thrown back onto the straw heap in her prison cell, her face pale, with bruises marring her body, too weak to stand up, yet she immediately mustered a resolute voice towards the people outside, saying, "No matter what vile means you employ against me, do not expect a single word of slander against my brother and Citizen Quenet to escape my lips!"

Also held together with their family was a commis who had a close relationship with Andre. Last year, this person had been entangled in a case involving embezzlement of supplies for the Republic's army, almost certainly doomed. It was Andre who risked his own jeopardy, defending him in the National Convention, pleading on his behalf multiple times, ultimately saving the lives of this only son and the mother who relied on him for survival.

For this person, there was no need to resort to any methods of torture. Almost on the day he was imprisoned, he had already written a confession, fluently and comprehensively, surpassing even the requirements of those outside.

In his testimony, Andre Quenet was portrayed as an accomplice to the traitor Dumouriez and his collusion with the Austrian royalty. It accused Andre of exploiting the masses' property as representative-on-mission in Vendée, conniving at the wanton slaughter committed by his subordinates, engaging in corruption and lawlessness within the military camps on the front lines. Every soldier and peasant held a deep-rooted hatred for him, wishing nothing more than to see him die.

When this person was released from prison, Edith stared at him with fiery eyes, disdain and resentment pouring forth as she spat, "Shameless traitor! This is your loyalty to liberty! Fawning on those who murdered him!"

He hung his head, avoiding the gaze of the women within the cell, and with quick, small steps, he followed the ones who had come to set him free, leaving the prison behind.

Lying on the ground, Margot held her sister's hand, soothing her, "We cannot expect everyone to be worthy of them, Edith. Some people only seek their own survival and peace, and we cannot blame them for it. But I shall never waver. The more I witness the fickleness and ugliness of humanity, the prouder I am of myself. We must live with strength, to defend the reputation of our unfortunate brother and his noble friend! For the dead cannot vindicate themselves!"

"Yes, such friendships hold no value, so why should we care?" Edith replied with a sneer. "The existence of despicable cowards, only serves to highlight the greatness of truth and principles. Let them witness the power of virtue!"

Margot coughed weakly, her hands folded over her chest, as she cast a serene smile towards the low, leaking ceiling of the prison cell. "If I were to die, my soul gazing upon my lifeless body from the heavens, I could at least say with a clear conscience: This girl named Margot, her conscience was always flawless, her life always impeccable!"

The youth and beauty of Margot unsurprisingly stirred lascivious intentions among the Thermidorists. They soon began resorting to every possible means to seduce her into degradation.

One after another, three representatives came to harass her, promising that if she agreed to marry them and rid herself of the shameful surname of Percy, they would set her and her loved ones free.

One of them even went so far as to draft a release order for her family, signed and stamped, presenting it before Margot, employing both persuasion and intimidation in an attempt to make the young woman yield.

However, Margot promptly took the paper and tore it to shreds before his eyes, declaring, "I don't regard you for a moment. Not even on the guillotine will I abandon the sacred surname of Percy. Even a prisoned woman in rags won't be had by a rat!"

It was conceivable that her stubbornness, coupled with her beauty, naturally constituted a provocation that would trigger bestial desire in the eyes of the interrogators.

After one arraignment, Margot, barely clinging to life, was thrown back into the cell by a soldier. Upon seeing her disheveled and powerless to resist, he immediately got nasty, pinning Margot down on the straw and began tearing at her clothes.

"Let go of my sister! You rascal and fiend!" Edith immediately tried to rush forward, but weakened by days of imprisonment and hunger, she stumbled and fell to the ground.

At that moment, Adele, lying on the floor, pounced suddenly, sinking her teeth into the soldier's arm. The man howled in pain and viciously threw the gray-haired mother aside, causing her head to collide heavily with the stone ground near a puddle.

"Aunt!" Edith screamed and rushed to her side.

As they helped her up, the elderly woman's breath was already faint.

Edith picked up a shard of broken glass from the corner and brandished it like a little she-wolf, baring her teeth at the villain. "Back off! Or I'll slit your throat right away! I'm not afraid of your threats, you thugs! I'm not even afraid of death!"

"Madwoman!" The soldier, startled by the consequences of his actions, muttered a curse before abandoning Margot's body and stumbling out.

Edith gently laid Aunt Adele on a sack of straw, wiping the blood from her forehead, futilely attempting to restore her breathing to normal. Since being imprisoned, the old lady had been in a state of semi-consciousness, and now she could no longer be awakened. The air inside the cell was stagnant with a putrid stench, and the continuous dripping of sewage onto the crude sickbed only exacerbated the dire circumstances.

Margot crawled on her knees to the iron grille of the cell, desperately pleading with the men outside to transfer them to a drier and better-ventilated cell. Her pleas were rejected. With both hands clasped together, the maiden begged for hours on behalf of her mother, but no one paid her any attention.

That evening, the old woman took her last breath.

Edith vigorously shook the cold, metallic bars, making a clattering sound, and shouted out in hatred, "Assassins! Assassins!"

The young girl, consumed by overwhelming grief over Aunt Adele's death, found herself even more devoted to longing for her beloved.

"I don't even have a small miniature of Andre!" she mournfully thought, "Will I gradually forget his voice and smile?"

She took out the ruby ring from her pocket, bringing it to her lips, cherishingly kissing it more than a thousand times.

Edith gazed at the sparkling gem in the darkness, murmuring to herself, "Because of his death, I love him even more. The more those rats besmirch him with their filthy words, the purer and nobler his image becomes in my heart! Flowing through my veins since my birth is the blood of a republican!"

Sublime emotions filled Edith's soul. Leaning her upper body against the cold, damp stone wall, she let tears flow into her collar, indulging in the intoxicating pleasure evoked by the ceaseless flow of tears.

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On a mid-August evening, Edith chanced upon a crack in the prison cell wall. She leaned in, pressing her ear against it, and heard the conversation from the neighboring cell.

"How many of you are there on your side?" she asked, her voice filled with a glimmer of relief.

"Eleven for now," came the reply, "but more prisoners keep being thrown in."

Through this crevice opened by destiny, the two cells became intertwined. Edith listened as the people next door gathered together, speaking with a sentimental tone about their loved ones.

One middle-aged man with a strong rural accent of provinces caught her attention. The entire prison fell silent, leaning in to hear his slow narration.

"I have a daughter too, good citizen," he said, his voice husky but with a hint of loving smile that emanated from his heart. "You see, this is a lock of her hair. Tell me, in which village can you find such beautiful fiery red hair? It's the only thing I have on me about her.

"Ay, I used to be a peasant, had no money, couldn't even afford to paint a crudest miniature of her! My little Fiona is as lovely as an angel. You should truly see her little face. I don't even know if she's still alive. I am not a worthy father. I left her and her mother behind to join the army.

"I've been in prison before too. I was there for four months for attacking a man of property. A father who stands up against those who beat his wife and daughter gets thrown in a cell! What kind of society is this? When I got out of jail, my wife scolded me. She was right. I couldn't protect them. Society doesn't allow a poor father to protect his wife and daughter.

"That night, I didn't go to bed. I sat in the yard. They were counting on me to make a living. If I had stayed with them, at least they would have had enough to eat. But I didn't want it to be just that way. I wanted Fiona and her mama to never be beaten again. I thought, if I join the republic's army, no child would be beaten like that anymore.

"Did I do wrong? They told me that even a nobody like me, could be of use in a republic. I thought that once I had achieved something too, I could bring Fiona and her mother here, and we could all have a good life. But now, I'm going to die here." He paused here, his voice slightly trembling as he sniffed forcefully, "Did I do wrong? She should be ten years old by now, turning eleven at the end of September. How are they doing now?"

Edith had never heard this soldier's voice before, but the unique name Fiona sparked a flicker of familiarity within her.

"I cannot answer whether you did wrong or not, citizen. But I know that there must always be people like you in this world," she whispered through the fissure, addressing the person on the other side.

There was a moment of silence in the adjacent cell. Then, a vibrant voice of a young man broke the stillness.

"We men here, who among us is not someone's father, brother, or son?"

Edith heard someone stand up and walk over to the peasant, strongly patting his shoulder twice. "Citizen, you may have abandoned your own daughter, but you have adopted the people. You are as great as Jean-Jacques Rousseau."

In the still of the night, the rusty bolts of the neighboring cell screeched once more, as a new group of prisoners were thrown into this already overcrowded dungeon. The original occupants pressed closer, barely making some space for the newcomers.

In a tacit understanding, everyone remained silent, their hearts heavy with the shared burden of pathetic destinies.

Suddenly, from the neighboring cell, a melodious cry echoed, "Edmond! Edmond!"

"Elisabeth!" responded another young lad with a clear, resonant voice.

Then came the sound of light and joyous footsteps like a bird, as they traversed the entire prison cell. A youthful body dashed towards another, their bodies intertwining. They cried and laughed, kissing each other passionately, unabashedly whispering and shouting words of love and affection.

The inmates from the neighboring cell gathered around, listening to the proud recounting of the lovers their miraculous reunion on the brink of death.

Edith pressed her hands all at once against the stone wall that separated the two cells, exclaiming with fervor, "How I envy you! You can die together! Die for liberty!"

"But alas, we cannot face the Lord together as wife and husband," The lassie, who had been incessantly chirping in a voice of delight, let out a regretful sigh for the first time.

Moved to the core, the listeners discussed whether it would be possible to fulfill the couple's final wish.

The women rekindled extinguished candles, aligning them in a neat row, while the men gathered their straw mats, arranging them into a makeshift altar. An elder juring priest volunteered to officiate the wedding ceremony for these two pure angels, with all present from both cells serving as witnesses.

Edith swiftly removed the ruby wedding ring from her finger and passed it through the narrow gap to the other side, saying, "Take this."

The couple, filled with surprise and happiness, expressed their heartfelt gratitude profusely.

The sombre room of death transformed into a solemn church, as these ragged strangers kneeled in unison, their chests filled with an unprecedented devotion.

Edith listened intently as the old priest declared, in a venerable voice, the eternal union of the two young souls in the name of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit.

"I vow to share my life and death with her/him," their resolute and tender oath echoed through the silence.

"How fortunate you are! You can put the ring on each other's finger!" Edith smiled, but her voice was choked with tears.

Long after the dreamlike wedding had concluded, each heart remained filled with infinite reverence. They felt that this fate-arranged love would open a gateway to heaven for them, allowing the dawn of God to pour into this space of despair.

"There will be a miracle. I can feel it," said the old priest, stroking his beard. Edith sensed the smile in his voice.

No one replied, but every prisoner believed it with unwavering faith.

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There was no miracle.

The next morning, at the break of dawn, everyone in that prison cell was pushed onto the guillotine.

The newlywed couple asked to be placed together by the executioner. After Edmond's arms were bound, he still turned around and bent over the platform to kiss his Elisabeth. Even as their beautiful heads were tossed into the basket, their widened eyes gazed upon each other, their lifeless bodies entwined in the embrace within the cart.

The last in line was Fiona's short and stooped father, like a frail reed. This peasant from rural Vendée had not experienced much of the world, yet his face showed no signs of fear. Before they sheared his hair, he requested to have the small pendant hanging from his neck placed in his pocket.

As they lifted him from the plank, untied the ropes binding his arms, and dropped his body, his bony arm swung down onto his chest. His blood-stained hand happened to grasp the pendant containing his daughter's red hair, slipping out from the edge of his shirt pocket.

　　
***Author's Notes***

①In writing this chapter, I drew inspiration from memoirs by Charlotte Robespierre, Elisabeth Le Bas, Louise Danton, etc. After the downfall of their brothers and husbands, these women endured numerous hardships and slander, and many of them displayed extraordinary courage and unwavering stance throughout this process.

②The prison wedding scene is a tribute to Stefan Zweig's short story A Wedding in Lyon. Although A Wedding in Lyon takes place during the Great Terror, while this chapter unfolds in the White Terror, I believe that the bravery displayed by these ordinary people in the face of death is equally admirable.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Vote/comment to send Fiona's father to heaven!