the fragrant and soft duvet, resting her head on Annabelle''s warm chest, and closed her eyes, lost in sweetest fantasies.

----------------------

"Edith? Edith?"

Margot called out several times before her sister, curling up on the bed beside, finally came back to reality. Edith was almost startled, having sunk too deep into her own thoughts.

"Do you have something on your mind, my dear sister?" Margot turned to her with concern, reaching out a hand. "I can tell that you''ve been worried since you returned from your trip. I''ve never seen you like this before."

Edith sighed, sitting up in bed and holding her knees. Through the misty darkness, she gazed at the wall in front of her. "Sister, I feel like I''m losing sight of the direction of the revolution. How much longer do we have to go, and where will we end up? And Andre, I feel like I can''t understand him anymore either."

Margot went silent for a moment, then leaned closer to her sister. "Edith, have you ever noticed that your feelings for Andre are not as sheer as you imagine?"

"What are you talking about, Margot…"

"Today, you sing the praises of the incorruptible with such passion, but last year at this time, didn''t you consider Brissot and Madame Roland to be paragons of wisdom and virtue? And even further back, didn''t you use the same language to extol Mirabeau and Lafayette?"

Margot paused here, yet seeing that Edith open her mouth, about to argue, she continued immediately. "Honestly, haven''t you mixed your feelings for Andre with all these