6、Blessing or Curse 祝福抑或诅 ...
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"Hush, mother, keep your voice down here," Philippe reminded her. "Which one are you talking about?"
"That mysterious painter! Edith used to visit him everyday when she was a child!" Aunt whispered excitedly.
Now Philippe became excited too. "Edith, is it really your erudite old friend? That's fantastic! Let's go say hello to him after the meeting. To be honest, I've always been looking forward to getting to know him."
"I think...yes, it's him. If I'm not mistaken. Honestly, we can hardly be called friends. I've nearly forgotten what he looks like." Edith said in a fit of pique, although no one here would care .
Her moods were too complicated, so she didn't realise something strange.
From the age of fifteen to twenty-five, a person's appearance often changes significantly. But the painter could be said to have not changed at all.
Of course, his demeanor had changed a lot. At least on the podium, no one would ever think he might once have been an artist.
His solemn expression had turned into a ruthless one. When he spoke of possible traitors and conspirators within the republic, he paused to scan the entire venue with a gaze that made those with unclear conscience feel fearful.
He wore a neatly ironed, bright red waistcoat with every button meticulously fastened. But the style of the shirt and bow tie inside was elaborate and complex, exaggeratedly covering his Adam's apple, making his dress look both aristocratic and revolutionary.
Andre Quenet's speaking style was unique: his voice was not deep and heavy, yet had a compelling force. His sentences were romantic, while had a peculiar kind of incitement.
However, at this moment, Edith was in no mood for listening to his speech.
"A baby-faced leader!" A middle-aged senator in their back row sighed amusedly. "Is he really twenty-five? Could he have lied about his age, too eager to make a name for himself?"
"This guy looks like a courtier a noblewoman would dote on! But does he even like women?" The person next to him snickered, the words carrying a more malicious tone.
"Watch your words, citizens," Philippe couldn't help turning around and interrupting them sternly.
The back row fell silent.
Edith breathed a sigh of relief and, together with Margot, cast a grateful glance at her cousin.
The speech ended, and the audience erupted into thunderous applause. The host gave a brief summary, and a representative requested that the speech be printed immediately.
"Let's go and intercept him before he leaves," Philippe stood up first, urging the others.
"Aunt, Cousin, you go ahead. I think I need to hurry to help Citizeness Desmoulins proofread today's manuscript," Edith said, her heart beating fast as she turned and hurried away.
Margot looked kind of surprised but soon showed understanding. There was always a subtle understanding between the two vastly different sisters.
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The diminutive Aunt Adele was the first to rush forward and intercept the speaker in the hallway.
"Monsieur Quenet...I mean, Citizen Quenet, I can't believe it's you! What a coincidence!" she exclaimed.
The orator looked down at the elderly woman in confusion.
"Don't you remember me? I'm Mrs. Percy. You painted my portrait before...My niece, little Edith, she used to visit your residence often, didn't she?"
Upon hearing the name, Andre
seemed to catch on immediately. He instinctively scanned the area around Adele for a child - no, he inwardly mocked himself for being foolish. She must be a grown lady by now.
It's a pity that behind the old woman, he only saw a black-haired quiet maiden. Clearly it was not her.
"Hello, Citizen Quenet, it's an honor to meet you," Philippe said respectfully, extending his hand to shake Andre's.
It was only then that Andre noticed the young man and felt apologetic as he shook his hand politely.
"Didn't your niece come along?" he asked Citizeness Percy.
"Oh, she had something else to attend to. Since the Revolution, that chick has been busy every day," the elderly woman explained while carefully scrutinizing the face of this "old acquaintance."
From his features and skin alone, he still seemed almost boyish, yet the calm and confident charisma added a sense of age to his overall aura.
"But God bless, ten years have passed, and you haven't changed a bit!"
"I suspect it's just your memory has become fuzzy," Andre replied, bowing his head.
"I swear it's true! You look exactly the same as the first time I saw you. How did you manage it?" Adele marveled. "You must have received a blessing from God! "
Andre smiled bitterly and turned his head away.
"A blessing from God? I'm afraid it's more likely a curse from the devil!"
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Edith didn't actually go to Lucile Desmoulins' place today.①
She walked alone down the street, still sorting out her tangled thoughts.
At the other end of the street, a group of lower-class people came cheering along. The man in front led them, singing Carmagnole loudly while holding high a long wooden stake in triumph with his hand.
At the top of the stake was a woman's head.
Like most people on the street, Edith was accustomed to such scenes and was not frightened.
However, the face of the head made her feel familiar.
If it is not too cruel to say so, the head, even with its expression of despair as it was chopped off, still showed some beauty.
When the crowds passed by, she finally remembered. It was the miraculous angel she had witnessed with the painter on the bridge over the Seine at the age of nine.
作者有话说
第6章 Blessing or Curse
