Love at Dawn

9.Edith Liberty

On the 15th of January, 1793, the second floor of the National Convention's meeting hall was a bustling hive of humanity. Beyond the railing just above the podium, a throng of women gathered. Among them were mostly young ladies, with short daggers and small knives hanging at their waists, as well as older widows who carried their craftwork under their arms. Occasionally, one could also spot a few mothers cradling infants. Should the child's cry interrupt the debates, these mothers, engrossed in the proceedings, would loosen their garments right in the midst of the crowd, pull down their bodices to bare both breasts, and unabashedly nurse their children facing the entire assembly hall.

Their voices ranged from high-pitched to coarse and vigorous. Some were well-versed in the latest political opinions and jargon, able to name every face in the National Convention. Others simply sought an escape from the relentless drudgery of domestic life, yearning for a bit of excitement and joining in to pass the time. When they heard calls for price controls on bread, they enthusiastically cheered along. When someone pleaded for sympathy and forgiveness for the nobility, they were quick to lead the chorus of disapproving boos.

They referred to each other as "citizeness" and engaged in spirited debates on social issues, occasionally drowning out the speeches from the main stage. Upon encountering impassioned oratory, they would nudge their neighbors with their elbows, urging them to take notes to read to the sisters at the patriotic women's club later in the evening. As the main assembly quieted down, many would lower their heads to resume their knitting, their fingers moving at a rapid pace, as if their entire beings were devoted to their handicrafts while their ears remained attuned to every word spoken below. ①

Edith used her arms to push through the surging sea of people, determined to secure a prime spot at the front. As she weaved through the crowd, the pungent odors of sweat, leather, and rust bored into her nose. She initially stumbled over a pair of cheap, creaking boots, knocked over a wobbly-legged stool, and collided with a shirtless man of sans-culottes. Yet, once she managed to throw herself to the edge of the railing, with half her body precariously leaning over the high barrier and her hands firmly gripping the horizontal beam to balance herself, she couldn't help but smirk triumphantly, greeting the several acquainted citizenesses nearby.

Down in the grand hall, an old, powder-wigged legislator walking to his seat on the right side of the podium cast a disapproving, disdainful look at the disarray and vulgarity this way. Edith, noticing him, mockingly mimicked his expression, deliberately creasing her face with wrinkles and knotting her brows, while pairing it with a comical and pitiable gaze. Seeing the old man's face turn beet red, she playfully stuck out her tongue at him.

Today was an exceptionally important day as delegates took the stage one by one to decide the fate of the former king, Louis Capet. Edith's gaze wandered through the moving crowd in the hall, soon capturing the vision of that beautiful, bouncing blonde hair.

Andre swiftly walked to the front of the stage, taking his place in the line on the steps. He stood there, perfectly upright, shoulders held taut, head slightly bowed, and never glanced around. From this point, she could only see a few curls hanging over his forehead, his long and thick eyelashes, and his classically sculpted nose. After a while, his head lifted, and the illusion that evoked sweet tenderness just now, all at once dissipated due to the solemnity and sadness suitable for a funeral etched on his face.

As she scanned the grand hall once more, the men standing around him suddenly appeared insufferably common, and the words they uttered seemed to transform into a different language, a cacophony of raucous background noise.

Edith's crossed arms rested on the railing, her chin propped on top of them, and an involuntary smile tugged at her lips. Her gaze, no matter how hard she tried, couldn't tear itself away from that tall and graceful figure.