9、What's his secret? 他有什么秘 ...
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The girl rested her hands on the railing of the tiny balcony, attempting to calm her troubled heart with the cool evening air.
As expected, the sound of steady footsteps approached her from behind.
"What are you doing here?" she questioned the man behind her without turning around.
"Edith, I'm glad to see you again. You've grown so much," he replied sincerely.
She could no longer contain her anger, "Are you really going to pretend that nothing happened? Brush off your betrayal of our friendship?"
"I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye," Andre lowered his gaze, "I didn't realise it would affect you this much."
Edith turned to face him, shouting, "Because you only thought of me as a naive child easy to fool, didn't you? In your eyes the debates we had in the past were just a game to tease a kid! Otherwise, you wouldn't have said those flippant words at the dining table just now!"
"No, I never thought that way!" he urgently said.
"Then explain to me properly. Where have you disappeared all these years?" she glared at him with disaffection.
"I had to go back to my hometown to see someone important," he explained.
"Someone important! I bet it's your sweetheart!" she sneered.
"No, it's not a woman," he shook his head with a bitter smile.
"Not a woman! Can it be a man, then?" she exclaimed again.
Andre sighed, placing his hand on his forehead, "You've misunderstood. It's my relative. I went to send him off on his final journey."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she muttered, feeling a bit embarrassed, but immediately frowned again, "But what does that have to do with your vanishing without a trace?"
He paused in hesitation."There is something complicated. Please forgive me, I can't say right now. Give me some time, I'll tell you later,"
"Fine," she replied still irked, "fine, it's settled! But you must be responsible for causing my idol to disappear all of a sudden!"
"Idol?" he was puzzled.
"Yes, when I read those words of Citizen Quenet, the image that appeared in my mind was a man of the most virtue! If I had known he was a perfidious crook, I would have never adored him from the beginning," she pouted in a fit of pique, turning her head away.
Andre couldn't help but smile, "Then I will do my best to live up to his image. But now, we should return to the dining table. Your family is getting worried."
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Several days later, one evening, Edith was assisting Lucile Desmoulins in revising the manuscripts for publication when she was unexpectedly asked, "Would you like to meet Madame Roland?"
"Citizeness Roland! Can I really go to her salon?" exclaimed Edith with delight.
Till they entered the drawing room of her idol, the young girl was still feeling kind of mellow.
Madame Roland approached them with confident and graceful strides.
To be honest, this "uncrowned queen of the Girondins" was not as exquisitely beautiful as Edith had seen in the pictorials, but more charming in her every move.
Madame Roland was buxom, her forehead full, looked resolute with her rich brown eyebrows and hair, yet a reassuring smile always lifted the corner of her mouth.
"This is Edith Travis, my young friend. Her brother is Citizen Philippe Percy, deputy in the National Convention," Lucile introduced her to Madame Roland.
"Edith Travis," Madame Roland smiled as she pronounced the name. "I have heard of you, cherie. They call you 'Lady Liberty,' don't they?"
Edith smiled sheepishly as she recalled her triumphant moment on Bastille Day.
Her idol took her by the hand, sat down together at a small table on the side.
Around the long table and on the sofas sat elite figures from various factions. Since the issue of dealing with the former king had recently become a focus, the debate of these men was particularly heated.
Madame Roland noticed Edith's rapt attention to the conversations taking place in the centre, reaching out across the table towards her.
"I can see that you and I share similar experience, right? My young lady. I possess unfortunately more wit than my husband and these men present. Yet while they deliver their harangues, I must constantly hold my tongue to prevent the thoughts and opinions surging in my breast from pouring out. Alas, for women like us with intelligence and knowledge, is it luck or affliction to be born in this era?"
"I know that you are the brain of the Girondins. Can't even you participate in those discussions?" Edith said indignantly.
Madame Roland shook her head with a bitter smile.
"I can only record my thoughts with a pen and express them through my husband's hands."
Edith looked disappointed.
Madame Roland covered her mouth and leaned in towards the girl. "But you know what's even worse? Sometimes you have to listen to a doltish man babble on and on, as if he were Demosthenes or Voltaire himself. Yet all you can do is roll your eyes on the sly at the quacks of this silly goose! "
This acrid and humorous remark made Edith laugh.
At that moment, a dashing gentleman approached their spot.
"Good evening, respectable ladies," he elegantly bowed.
"Good evening, Citizen Buzot," Lucile replied with a smile.
Edith was surprised by Madame Roland's silence, who was usually very courteous. She turned her head and saw Madame gazing at Buzot with a doleful expression, slowly raising her arm towards him.
The handsome man, appearing to be in his thirties, reverently kissed the lady's delicate hand. In his lifting eyes to meet those of Madame Roland's, there was also a smoldering passion, impossible to conceal.
Edith blushed and felt her heart skip a beat at this chance encounter, inwardly amazed.
Lucile had to leave early to take care of her baby.
Edith continued to talk for hours with her idol. Only after most of the guests had dispersed from the living room did she reluctantly bid farewell.
"You can directly call me Manon from now on, dear Edith," Madame Roland said before she left. "I have high hopes for you."
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Not long after leaving Roland's house, a cold winter rain began to fall from the sky.
Edith had been hiding under a narrow eave by the roadside, but seeing the rain only grow fiercer, she gritted her teeth and stepped into the downpour.
However, in an instant, the rain above her head ceased. She found herself enveloped in a warm, dry scope.
Without turning around, she could guess the identity of the person behind her from the scent.
"Citizen, thou art impeding a patriot's liberty to embrace the rain," the girl said with solemnity.
A low, muffled laugh came from behind. "Shall I move the umbrella away then?"
Edith ignored him and quickened her pace forward. Andre hurriedly caught up with her holding up the umbrella.
"I'm glad you finally addressed me as 'thou'," the young man's voice sounded fuzzy through the curtain of rain. "Is that a sign of reconciliation, or simply to comply with principles of the revolution?"
"You think too much. Obviously it's the latter," Edith said proudly without looking back.
"It seems that I have grown complacent too soon." Andre sighed with a bitter smile. " I actually start to miss the old customs before the reforms. After all, I am too dull to sense your changing attitude immediately. Besides, if you address everyone as 'thou', it would fail to reflect my uniqueness."
"Several years have past, it seems you have learned the art of flattery! " she remarked displeased, her gaze fixed on his soaking wet cheeks. "But, upon closer inspection, you really haven't changed a bit!"
"Is that so? Your aunt has also expressed the same sentiment," Andre replied.
"I know. After getting home, she complained about you ruining her mood and called you an oddball. Frankly, why did you say such things at the time? What did you mean by 'curse of the devil'?" the maiden asked puzzledly.
"Then please apologise to her on my behalf," Andre's deep-set blue eyes gazed at her through the mist of the rain. "For the first time, I now feel that it truly is a blessing."
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"Edith? Edith?"
The hazy call gradually became clear and awakened the drowsy girl. She opened her bleary eyes, momentarily confused about her whereabouts, her face showing a perplexed expression.
In the next moment, she remembered she was sitting in the National Convention. The hall was still brightly lit at this hour, with the trial of the king underway, and the curious anticipation and fiery atmosphere made many willing to forego sweet slumber. Edith, too, stubbornly insisted on staying up here with Lucile Desmoulins to write the news report.
As the night wore on, Edith, who usually slept quite early, struggled to resist waves of childish drowsiness. Despite pretending to answer the person beside her with composure, she involuntarily nodded off like a chick pecking at grains, her head gradually drooping towards the desk.
"If you can't hold on any longer, just go back and rest. You'll catch a cold sleeping here." The new mother Lucile always had a gentle yet firm tone in her voice.
"No, I'm not sleepy at all." Edith immediately sat up, but before she could finish speaking, she let out a big yawn. Then, she reached into the large bag of sweets and fruits she had been clutching tightly in her arms like a miser holding all of his possessions, and grabbed an orange from it, stuffing it into her mouth haphazardly.
Lucile could only smile resignedly and hand her a written draft.
Edith picked up the quill, impatiently flicking her braids, trying to drive away the sleepiness from her mind.
Occasionally, she caught Quenet's name in the conversation of a few men from the back row, which instantly made her more awake.
Edith realised that she was always hoping inwardly to hear others mention Andre's name. Even if it was from a vulgar and obnoxious politician's comment with no nutritional value, it was enough to make her tense up, prick her ears, and listen attentively.
This was a strange feeling that she was annoyed with and unwilling to admit. Even though the speaker didn't intentionally emphasise his name, it always seemed to stand out in her ears, like a particularly clear note in a melody or the bright red flame in her little painter's depiction of Prometheus in oil.
Her cousin Philippe and Andre approached their seats shoulder to shoulder, fervently discussing the progress of the trial. As Edith caught sight of that familiar figure, she immediately assumed a stance like a little female eagle ready to prey.
Andre wore his usual aloof and haughty expression in public, but his bright blue eyes still shone with vitality, showing no signs of fatigue or haggardness despite staying up all night.
As they reached Edith, he seemed to relax slightly, bending down with a smile and asking, "May I have an orange to eat, Citizeness Travis?"
Edith was taken aback by his sudden display of closeness in front of others. She glared at him bewilderedly before picking out the smallest orange and placing it in his outstretched hand.
"Thank you. I'm terribly thirsty," Andre beamed contentedly.
Seeing him so at ease, Edith felt her earlier guard slip away all at once and couldn't help but feel angry at him.
"Come home with us, Eddie," Philippe naturally used 'us', clearly not intending to end their lively conversation.
"I don't want to," Edith pouted, turning her head away.
Lost in his buoyant enthusiasm, Philippe didn't attempt to persuade her with his elder brother's authority. He soon walked away with Andre.
They had not been gone for long when Lucile's husband, Camille Desmoulins, appeared not far away. He stood there nodding goodbye to his colleagues before hurrying over to them, almost trotting.
Camille stood close to his wife, showing concern for her well-being as the two of them spoke continuously with gentle and joyful tones. Edith almost felt as if, had she not been there, he would have eagerly leaned down to kiss Lucile deeply.
"You take Edith home with you first, Camille," Lucile said to her husband. "I'll finish up this paragraph here and then come back with Citizeness Danton. If I leave now, my train of thought will be disrupted."
Understanding and considerate as always, Lucile turned back to Edith with a smile. "Wait for me at home, my dear. I'll be back soon, then we can go on with our discussion."
As Edith followed Citizen Desmoulins onto the street, she saw that dawn had already crept in. The cold of the winter morning made her give a shudder.
Once inside the warm and cozy carriage, a wave of strong drowsiness overtook her. She was too tired to observe proper etiquette, and in front of Citizen Desmoulins, she leaned her head against the swaying wall of the carriage, falling asleep.
When Edith woke up in the guest room of the Desmoulins', it was already approaching evening. She felt a bit embarrassed for having slept so carelessly for such a long time in someone else's home, sticking out her tongue at herself.
The house was quiet, and she walked on tiptoes, turning into the study where she saw Lucile still working at her desk.
Lucile smilingly nodded at Edith when she saw her get up. The young mother's face was slightly pale, and her beautiful eyes were not as dewy as usual. It was evident that she had not rested for long, yet her inner passion still made her radiant.
Edith sat down at the desk, facing the darkening sky outside the window, chin resting in her hand, lost in thought with a heavy heart.
After a while, Lucile handed her a document, "Could you help me polish this passage, Edith? My rhetoric has never been of aura as yours."
"Citizeness Desmoulins," the maiden suddenly spoke, "If a friend had offended you in the past, but due to family reasons, you now have to go on to associate with him, how would you react?"
"Are you referring to Citizen Quenet?" The refined Lucile guessed immediately.
Edith nodded reluctantly, admitting it.
"I never imagined there was such a history between you two," Lucile smiled. "But perhaps there was a misunderstanding? Why don't you open your heart and have a good talk? "
"To be honest, I've already talked to him, but he seems determined to keep secrets from me," Edith complained.
"I think maybe he does have some difficulties," Lucile held her friend's hand, "So ask your heart, dear. What kind of place does he occupy in your heart, and how do you see your relationship? In the end, only your heart can make the decision for you, whether or not to forgive this friend."
"Ask... my heart?" Edith whispered to herself.
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第9章 What's his secret?
