man. He will remember that his mother and father embraced a death filled with dawn, as they stood for truth and liberty!"

"Thank you, Citizeness Saint-Clemont!" Lucile gratefully gazed at her young friend, with whom she had shared so little. "May our son always remember how dearly we loved him!"

The tumbrel drew closer and closer to the Place of the Revolution. Charlene and Lucile exchanged a knowing smile and clasped each other''s hands.

Charlene noticed the elderly man sitting across from them, consumed by despondency as the execution site loomed ahead. His hair was grizzled, his body stooped, appearing like a refractory priest, his entire being trembling ever so slightly.

"If you are afraid, you may hold my hand as well, citizen," Charlene softly spoke, extending her other gentle hand to the old man.

He raised his clouded, reddened eyes, surprised by the sight of this slender and pale girl, akin to a reed. He tremulously gave his hand to her. She held his rough and aged hand, transmitting courage into the depths of his soul.

"I do not know my charges, kind-hearted young lady," he murmured.

"Me either, old Monsieur," Charlene smiled and shook her head. "They read us a list of accusations, but the things described there are not what we understand."

"Will we meet again in heaven, brave stranger?"

"We will," Charlene squeezed his palm. "We shall reunite there in a minute!"

"There, there is no war, no guillotine, is there?"

"No, dear Father. There is nothing. Only good people and angels l