th the status quo!" Philippe continued to rail against the revolt peasants, not really listening to his friend''s words.

"The greatness of revolution lies exactly in its service to those who deny it," Andre calmly refuted, without turning around.

"Don''t worry too much, Edith," seeing her troubled expression, he reassured her, "We''ve pretty much wiped out the rebel army, and the Republic is advancing from victory to victory. She''ll be saved soon."

"Let''s hope so!" the girl sighed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Edith saw Andre''s face suddenly change. He swiftly reached out and pushed her down, and then crouched low himself, calling out urgently, "Get down!"

Before Edith could react, two bullets whizzed past her ear, barely missing her. Her chest pounded as she huddled on horseback, her whole body tense.

Gunshots echoed three times before coming to a halt. From behind a tree trunk emerged a short figure, holding a small pistol in both hands, once again shooting resolutely at the approaching ones. But the gun was already empty.

It was a boy, no more than eleven or twelve, dressed in a dirty rebel guerrilla jacket, his oversized uniform hanging off his small frame. He was obviously malnourished, with a gaunt face smeared with mud, his eyes wide and alert.

Seeing that his mission had failed, he leapt out from his hiding spot onto the road, throwing his gun to the ground. With arms outstretched at his sides, he faced the oncoming group with an air of suicidal bravado, shouting:

"Long live the King! Long l