an her elocnte:

"Liberty, oh liberty,

In my most ardent dreams, thy beauty I see;

This heart within my breast doth leap and sing,

For thee, the sprite of hope and spring！"

Raphael never ceased his bowing, yet it was apparent that the melody he played was not to harmonise with the passionate verse. The dissonant notes only added to the sombre tone of the music.

In the brief gaps between every two bars, Charlene''s worried eyes would flick to her brother in the corner.

She lowered her head to press on with the poem, the pure and restrained sorrow in her voice, perfectly complementing the poem''s content:

"O’Lady Liberty divine!

For thee alone, my life I''d resign:

I beseech all to carve thy name so fair,

On my tombstone, for all to stare."

The poem had come to an end, and so had Raphael''s playing. The despondent youth silently put away his instrument and stumbled out of the room once again.

"Alas, this is almost a love poem, Edith! " Charlene shook her head with a bitter tone.

"A love poem! You do think so?" Edith exclaimed.

"You must have felt it too, that this Lady Liberty is referring exactly to you!" Charlene said.

"I don''t know, I..."

"My friend, you are so excellent, so radiant, I''m not at all surprised that Citizen Quenet is smitten with you at first sight. But I still feel jealous for poor Raphael!" Charlene sighed deeply.

"Poor Raphael!" Edith echoed.

"Did you notice how lost he looked just now? He''s always been s