"I''m sorry, Edith," said Charlene as soon as she saw her friend enter the room, her tone serious and devoid of any emotion. "You needn''t worry about Helene anymore. The matter has been settled. She lied to me. They didn''t come back to Paris to handle property affairs. Her husband came here to take on a mission for the royalists, and she was aware of it. She has confessed everything to me, begging for my forgiveness on her knees. But I won''t help her anymore. This matter is settled. You don''t need to trouble Citizen Quenet anymore either. She had the audacity to say that her husband didn''t deserve death! Does she expect that I''d be overcome by weak sympathy? Does she think I would ever forget the principles you''ve taught me all the time?"

The slow-speaking noble girl now talked apace, as if afraid that if she stopped, she wouldn''t be able to continue anymore. Edith, crouched next to the wheelchair, heard Charlene speak these words in that voice that had always been as soft as a thread. Her tone became increasingly fierce, and both of her hands tightened on the armrests, propping up her body as if ready to lunge forward to attack someone. For a moment, she almost thought Charlene had also fallen into that kind of fanaticism that would sacrifice loved ones for the Republic. She looked up at her friend''s face in surprise.

However, from Charlene''s tightly clenched jaw, Edith could see that she was clearly feeling deep pain for her unfortunate relative; and as for the words she spoke rapidly, she didn''t truly believe them herself. Yet in those burning and dry eyes, there was still a certain resolute expression, a heart-pumping strength that supported her to keep going.

Silent for a moment after the speech ended, Charlene slowly turned her wheelchair away, leaving her back to Edith. As she spoke again, her voice had returned to its usual low and sorrowful tone. It didn''t sound like she was talking to Edith, but rather unconsciously