In April of '87, when the spring was cold, the willow trees by the Seine spit out shoots the size of half a grain of rice on their sunny branches, while elsewhere the winter cold was not far away.

"You know, Joseph. Actually, I actually prefer April to May, when the flowers are in full bloom. Armand said to Joseph, who was walking side by side as he walked slowly along the banks of the Seine.

"Why?" Joseph asked.

"Because April is the season of budding, the season of the most hopeful. Although the chill has not subsided, the ice and snow have not completely melted, you look up and look out of the city, and you can still see the remnants of snow that have not melted in the shade of the hills outside the city, but you look at the willow branches by the river - the arrival of spring is unstoppable after all. Armand pointed.

"There's some truth to what you're saying." "But April is also the cruelest season. ”

"Why do you say that?" Armand asked.

"You know what, Aman?" Joseph looked left and right, and finally pointed to a small bare tree not far away, "Let's take that lilac, for example." In the last year, this clove has produced thousands of seeds. Armand, these seeds will try to germinate in April. ”

"What's wrong with that?" Armand was puzzled.

Joseph walked over to the bare lilac tree, reached out and stroked the rough trunk, turned his head and said, "Armand, how many of the thousands of seeds of this tree can grow even a small shoot?" How many of those seeds that are lucky enough to grow into a tree that can bloom with flowers in the spring? Consider, Armand, that even in the coldest winters, these thousands of seeds were alive, but in this April the vast majority of them have died silently in the soil. Think about how many lives died silently and how many hopes were silently dashed in April? Even if you think about it, at this very moment, perhaps in the dirt beneath our feet, countless lives are dying...... April is the most cruel month, and the old lilacs in the wasteland mix memories and desires, and let the spring rain urge those dull roots and shoots. Winter warms us, the earth is covered with forgotten snow, and the withered root balls provide a little life......"

"Wait...... "Joseph, I find it a pity that you are not a poet. Well, that's really interesting. But I've heard a similar story from another person, but his final sigh is not the same as yours. He said that in the revolution, many people will pay the price, even the price of their lives, and many people will die. However, this does not mean that there is anything wrong with the revolution. Because if there is no revolution, if it is always a snow-covered winter, the passing of life may be a little slower, but the continuous harsh winter will surely make all life wither. After all, it doesn't last long with a withered root ball alone. And the revolution, although it will make us lose a lot in the short term, will win us more in the long run. ”

"Who said this to you?" Joseph asked.

"Marat, a doctor." Armand replied.

"Marat? Could it be the one who was assassinated in a bathtub, sent to the Panthéon after his death, and then moved out not long after? Thinking so, Joseph asked, "Is that the one who wrote the Study of the Properties of Fire?" I've heard your uncle mention him. ”

"Then my uncle must not have said anything nice about him." Armand laughed. This also confirms that the Marat that Armand is talking about is the Marat that Joseph had in mind.

"Monsieur Lavoisier is only mentioning his point of view in passing when referring to those erroneous views. In fact, apart from the word 'absurd', which is used to describe his conclusions, Monsieur Lavoisier has nothing to say about him. What, he had a conflict with your uncle? ”

"There is no conflict to talk about." Armand replied, "It's just a disagreement on academic opinions." However, my uncle had taunted him harshly, and his words might have been a little more intense, so he didn't have a good relationship with my uncle. But it's a matter for him and my uncle, and this guy is actually very talented. Well, I hope to meet one of your friends. ”

Speaking of this, Armand raised his head and looked ahead, and said, "It's almost there, there is the Abel Beer Hall in front, and the friends I mentioned are waiting for us there." ”

"How did you get such a remote place?" Joseph said.

"It's not for anything else, it's mainly that the wine here is cheap." "Of course, these wines are privately brewed and not taxed. ”

The two men continued to walk forward as they spoke. After walking about a hundred paces, he turned to the right into an alley, and then after another twenty or so steps, he came to a house.

It is close to the poor quarter of Paris, so the houses here are mostly low and dilapidated, and they are all gray, like the expressions on the faces of the poor. Naturally, the same is true of this house. The door to the house was closed, and there was no sign or anything outside. From the outside, there was almost no difference between this room and the next ones.

Armand walked to the door, stretched out his hand and knocked on the door. The door didn't open, just a voice came from inside: "Who is it?" ”

"I'm a friend of Albert." Armand replied.

The door was open, but it was dark inside, and Joseph could only vaguely see that there seemed to be a pair of eyes looking at them. Then he heard a voice say, "It's a friend." Then the doors opened.

Armand led Joseph in, and the door closed behind them again. As the door was closed, the whole room suddenly went dark. It took a while for Joseph's eyes to adjust to the change, and by the way, he saw clearly the man standing in front of them.

It was a young man about Armand's age, with black, slightly curly hair, and a pair of hair that shone like lightning even in the dark.

The young man obviously knew that they had just come in and that it would take time for his eyes to adjust, so he just stood there quietly, waiting for Joseph's eyes to adjust to the dim light before he said to them, "Armand, and this ......."

"Joseph Bonaparte." Joseph hurriedly introduced himself.

"Then Monsieur Bonaparte, please come in with me." The young man said. Then he turned and walked inside.

Passing through a hallway, the young man pushed open a door and led them into a larger room.

This room is next to the courtyard at the back, and has relatively large windows, so it should be relatively brighter. In the middle of the room was a large round table, around which some people were sitting.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, the men looked this way. One of them also stood up and waved at Joseph and Armand: "Hey, our great scientist and great writer has finally arrived." ”

That man Joseph also knew, it was his classmate Aureno. After graduating, Aureno became a lawyer and left Paris for the provinces. He and Joseph exchanged a lot of letters, but when they met, they were much less common. Unexpectedly, he was back in Paris at this time.

"Oreno, why are you here too? When you come, you don't write to me in advance. Joseph was pleasantly surprised.

"Because of some work matters, I need to go to Paris for a run. It was a temporary decision, and I think the Messenger is probably not as fast as I am. When I arrived in Paris, I was done with my business, and I wanted to come to you, but when Armand said that you were going to come here with him today, I went straight here to wait for you. "Welcome, Joseph. ”

After welcoming Joseph, Aureno and Armand began to introduce Joseph to those present.

"This is our barrister Danton." Oreno first introduced Joseph to a slightly chubby hunk man in his twenties sitting next to him, "He was one of my teachers. He taught me a lot during this time. ”

Joseph knew that this was Danton, one of the famous Jacobin Triumvirate, and couldn't help but look at him twice.

He was a large, unkempt man, dressed in a wide bright red tweed blouse, with a loose tie that hung below the placket, an exposed neck, an open tunic with some of the buttons on it that had fallen off, and chipped boots on his feet. His hair stood on end, and there was clearly horsehair in his wig. He had a little pockmarked on his face, but a kind smile on the corner of his mouth, thick lips, big teeth, thick fists, and bright eyes.

"Nice to meet you." Joseph bent down slightly.

"I also feel honored to meet a future great scientist." Danton also replied.

"This guy who is as handsome as an angel, and who can make me jealous of him and can't sleep at night just by looking at him, is our friend Louie." Armand introduced Joseph to the young man who had just brought them in.

"Hello, I have read some of your works, and if I have time in the future, I hope to ask you some mathematical questions." The young man named Louis said. Joseph returned the salute to him, and noted that, as Armand had said, Louis was as handsome as an angel. Slightly curly flaxen-colored hair, delicate and smooth skin like cream, and eyes as clear and agile as autumn water...... If he was willing to smile, and with such eyes, even if his eyes were only as gentle as the west wind in May, they were enough to blow the roses in any girl's heart. But there was barely a smile on Louie's face, as if he were really carved out of marble.

"If he is born in the next life, he doesn't have to do anything, just with this face, he doesn't have to worry about eating." Joseph couldn't help but think with some jealousy.