I have admired her so much. I even thought if only I could become a woman like Madame Lavoisier one day. How sad she must be now!" Charlene said.

It was clear that the smart Madame Lavoisier did hold a special place in Charlene''s heart, as evidenced by her rare willingness to continue arguing with her friend even after Edith had already expressed her dissatisfaction.

"Stop talking about it, Charlene. I don''t like to hear you sympathise with the enemies of the revolution," Edith coldly interrupted her once again.

"I''m sorry, Edith," Charlene''s submissive nature once more made her adopt a humble attitude. "I think I have said something foolish again."

Edith merely turned her head away, inwardly scornful of her friend''s aristocratic weakness. She was too young, too fanatical, and had yet to understand the greater significance behind it all.

Charlene had just picked up her needlework from the coffee table when they heard an abrupt knock at the door.

Edith approached the door with confusion and opened it to find a middle-aged man with a wide build, dressed in a petit bourgeois style. His beard was thick and unkempt, both his appearance and demeanor rough. Despite all this, he seemed to make people feel uneasy, perhaps because he kept shifting his weight between his legs, and his hat was pulled down quite low, causing his gaze to always peer upwards.

The man saw Edith and pulled down the brim of his hat even further before speaking in a low and gruff voice, "I''m looking for Citizen Quenet. It''s urgent."

"He''s