Illuminated by the twilight sun, the warm evening island breeze swept through every part of the Cramont wilderness.

Summer in Britain is never scorching, and it's the time of year when summer and autumn meet, and the countryside is decorated with green fields and lush forests.

Yet, in the midst of such a rare cozy and pleasant atmosphere, a turbulent cloud of melancholy surrounds a villa in the Clarmont countryside. The tenants and squires, who had rested in the evening, watched the hurried figures shuttling from the villa, and began to whisper as a pastime of leisure time.

"I heard that old man can't make it through." After observing for a long time, one of the villagers said to the people next to him, "The doctor has been going back and forth since last month, and he went out for a walk a while ago, but now there is no one to be seen, so it seems that he is about to die...... right?" ”

"Heh, that's really pitiful...... "The person next to him replied casually. I'm so old that I have to die in another country......"

"It's better than being like poor Louis XVI." A middle-aged man who looked like a squire shrugged his shoulders, not minding in the slightest that he had made a rather malicious joke on a big man. "At least he's dead, isn't he?"

"Oh......"

There was no sadness, no excitement, just a casual remark.

Although everyone knew that the villa was a secluded former king of France, in the eyes of these British townspeople, it was just a small conversation in the evening when riding the wind, and it would not be long before it suddenly disappeared without a trace.

The sigh of others. Of course, it can't be transferred to that country house.

In fact, as outsiders had speculated, there was an indescribable tension in the villa at this time. The servants looked nervous and kept walking around, rarely even talking to each other.

In the deepest part of this wordless storm was a bedroom on the second floor. At this time, the bedroom was already full of people, but it was unusually silent, and no one was talking.

The sight of these people. It all focused on the old man lying on the bed.

This old man, although he is terminally ill, his expression is still normal. Just closed his eyes, as if he was just sleeping.

A gray-haired woman sat beside him, holding his hand tightly, tears streaming from her eyes. Just restrained himself with a great perseverance. so as not to cry out loud.

This old woman is the former queen of France, and this old man is naturally His Majesty Louis-Philippe I, the former king of France.

As the little Duke of Treville asserted, the former king had been in a coma for several days and was dying—in fact, according to the doctor's assertions, he might not even survive to-night.

Ever since the doctor told the queen that they were powerless. The Queen, who had maintained her dignity despite her pain, politely thanked the doctor for her recent hard work. Then she opened them up, and accompanied her husband, ready to see him go.

They had a good relationship, and since they were married in 18o9, they have been very affectionate in their marriage for half a century, and have had ten children. Although he later became king, he never made any troubles. Now they have children and grandchildren, and these children and grandchildren are surrounding them.

They have gone through many ups and downs together, but now they are about to usher in God's destined parting.

Although she knew in her heart that this was an inevitable end, the queen still felt a heart-rending pain in her heart. She held her husband's hand tightly, and although she wanted to show dignity in front of her children and grandchildren, tears could not stop flowing down.

What makes her so heartbroken is not only the parting with her husband, but also the place of farewell. The fact that a French king is dying in England is a different kind of mockery.

My husband, who should not have died in the unknown countryside of English origin, did not he do so much for France? If he hadn't been kicked out by those people, he wouldn't have left so soon...... The queen couldn't help but think so, and her tears flowed even faster.

She resented the humiliation her husband had endured, and even more resented what had happened to her family.

......Prompted by this unspeakable sadness, she took her husband's hand and placed it on her chest. Tears fell one by one, but she didn't realize it, "That nation has failed you, and God will make them doomed!" The British, the Russians, the Germans, will trample on this nation for you, for God, and make them pay for their perfidy! ”

As if floating up from the deepest part of the ocean, in the hazy darkness, the unconscious old man felt the glimmer of consciousness.

He opened his eyes slightly, but there was a white mist in front of him, and he couldn't see anything clearly, only a slight cool touch kept coming from his hand, which could make him feel a trace of proof that he was still alive.

I'm still alive.

A silhouette gradually appeared in the mist, and the old man's dim eyes were finally able to see the nearest person to him.

Is it Adelaide?

Oh, it's the queen. A flash of brightness suddenly flashed in the old man's heart.

"If that people fail you, God will make them doomed!"

The queen's cry reached his ears with a weeping voice.

God, oh God!

The word, like lightning, pierced the chaos that covered the intellect and awakened the old king.

The white mist in front of him disappeared, and the qi suddenly became so clear that the old man did not realize that he was in the illusion of memory.

The sky was gray and drizzling, but around the square was crowded with all sorts of people, all dressed in shabby clothes, but looking excited. People were smiling at each other, and others were cheering incessantly, as if they were attending a happy rally.

He stood in the middle of the crowd and followed them as he looked at the road leading to the square in the distance. Obviously such a cheerful scene. But it makes people feel an inexplicable depression.

In the center of the square, there is a machine representing the entire era, with an iron piece stuck between two wooden pillars. The wind blade was shining with a silvery cold light.

The clouds in the sky were thickening and thickening, as if to obscure all the sunlight so that the Holy Father in heaven would not have to witness the moment with his own eyes.

This was the day they cut off the head of Louis XVI on January 21, 1793.

At this time, the old king finally flashed a realization—it turned out that I was reminiscing.

He saw it with his own eyes.

At that time, he was originally titled Duke of Chartyle, which, of course, followed by the dynasty itself after the frenzy of the Revolution swept across France. Gone.

By that time his father, Louis Philippe, former Duke of Orleans, had changed his name to Philippe Equality. He became a member of the National Assembly and voted in favor of the death sentence of his distant cousin, Louis XVI.

The king waited silently for the memories to advance, like an audience watching a play. He when he was young, he was old when he was old. The sights seem to coincide. Gazing at the square under the sky, they once again recalled the moment that he will never forget.

The terrifying machine in the middle of the square chilled him more than any object or person. Although he could vaguely see when he was young that this terrifying machine like a demon devouring human lives had devoured many lives before, and it would definitely devour more lives in the future, but only later he knew. After Robespierre led the Jacobins to defeat the Girondins, it would soon have to drink the blood of a large group of revolutionary leaders, and even his father himself.

And then. and drank the blood of Robespierre and Danton and others.

How did this qiē come about? Until almost 6o years had passed, the old man also felt that he could not fully explain this qiē.

Since you can't tell, let's watch quietly.

It didn't take long for a commotion in the crowd. A group of soldiers approached slowly with a wagon.

"He's coming!"

"He's going to be sentenced!"

"He's going to die!"

Until 6o years later, these whispers full of happiness are still as vivid as yesterday, so that this old man has never forgotten jì.

When we reached the center of the square, the carriage stopped.

Then, four soldiers escorted one man from the car.

It was a fat man, gentle and submissive, and even at such moments he was dazed, and from time to time he gave a generous and flattering smile to the soldiers who were escorting him. As if he was still ignorant of his current situation, even though the National Assembly had already told him about the death sentence.

What a reclusive man! He doesn't look like a former king, but more like the innkeeper.

It was such a person who became a tyrant who had to die for the revolution.

It was his personal tragedy, but not the misfortune of the country, which needed a man to take responsibility for its terrible rule and unspeakable poverty.

This kind of honest smile, this kind of innocent character, put on the owner of a blacksmith shop, can allow him to live his life in peace; But how can one put it on the master of a country not bring terrible disasters to one's own country and one's own family?

Obviously, as the supreme of a country, he was at the mercy of others when he was alive, and he couldn't help himself when he was about to die.

He has a generous and gentle personality, neither cruel nor ruthless, and is willing to accept the advice of others with an open mind, nor does he take anger at those who offend him. He did whatever people told him to do, and even when he was guillotined, he didn't resist - isn't such a king only to go to the guillotine?

"Down with the tyrant!"

"Kill him!"

"Cut off his head!"

Amid the shouts and cheers of the storm, the king, whose expression was still calm, was escorted to the execution table.

In the midst of all the attention, he "pounced" before the priest, as if he had completed the final steps of a ritual as a king, rather than his final rite of death.

The priest made a cross on his chest with one hand and stroked his head with the other. And he obediently completed the ritual, and then he turned his head and looked at his former subjects.

He said a word. But soon he was drowned out in a tidal wave of roars and cheers, and everyone was waiting for him to die, and he himself was not prepared to rebel against this outcome.

When he had finished speaking, he bowed down obediently and put his head into the groove of the torture instrument.

The time had come, and the blade had fallen sharply.

"Bang!"

It was as if a hard walnut had been smashed open with a small mallet, the last vestiges of a once sacrosanct king. The freedom that the country has fought for so hard to gain is on its own. Offer a precious sacrifice – and many more will be given in the future.

The king's head rolled off, and the blood that flowed out was no different from that of a mortal.

Looking at this mediocre head, the cheers of thousands of people gathered together. Finally it became a voice.

"Long live France!"

God didn't take his life, but his former subjects did.

In the midst of the noise and cheers, the young man could not hear what the king was saying until a long, long time later. Only then did I learn that what he said was- "I am innocent. I forgive my enemies, and may my blood appease the wrath of God. ”

How stupid! I didn't understand until I died! Why did the king need to prove his innocence? How can the king forgive! The people don't need your forgiveness and forgiveness, they just need you to pull them forward!

As if to reproach the king, who had been so obsessed with death until his death, the old man suddenly muttered to himself.

"Majesty?" Seeing that her husband seemed to have some consciousness, the queen, who had been crying, couldn't help but exclaim. "Are you awake? Are you okay? ”

The king opened his eyes again, and this time he regained full consciousness and saw everyone around him.

The queen was by her side weeping for herself, and her children and grandchildren stood by the bedside, respectfully accompanying her in her last moments. It's not a mirage. It's about staying by your side. He and his whole family died, and I was left with a house full of children and grandchildren.

My father signed his death warrant. I have expelled his brother and seized the dynasty for which he died, and if there is God, how can God have favored him?

He who begs God never deserves anything.

"Hehe......" King Louis-Philippe couldn't help but laugh.

"Majesty?" The queen next to her was bewildered by her husband's sudden laughter, and even thought it was a dying delirium. "What's wrong? Want to say something? ”

There is nothing in particular to say, he did not do nothing during the period of seclusion, the affairs of the family have already been arranged, although he was ousted from the throne by the traitors, but after all, he has accumulated a huge fortune over the years, even after experiencing the impact of the revolution, he still survives a lot. These assets have been kept in good care and used as a mutual fund for the family, and the annual income generated will be given to the sons and their heirs, and if used well, these assets will be enough for his children and grandchildren to live a prosperous life for generations to come.

But...... Was this enough for the children and grandchildren of Philippe Equality and Louis-Philippe I?

No, it's not enough at all.

It took generations and a lot of hard work to get it down; The country that was once accidentally lost in an instant must be held back in the arms.

Even if he never sees it again, his children and grandchildren must accomplish such an undertaking because it is the family's innate calling—at least in his opinion.

The vision became more and more blurred, and the figure in front of him loomed, like that of the poor king......

I lost, so I'm incompetent, but I'm not losing at your hands. I will never beg for forgiveness, because you are not qualified to forgive me.

With such a final passion, he turned his gaze away and looked behind his wife.

There, his second son, the Duke of Nemur, was looking at him nervously.

My children and grandchildren, they will inherit my business...... And you have nothing......

He mustered up the last of his strength, nodded slightly, and motioned for his son to come over.

"Majesty?" The Duke of Nemours hurriedly walked over, ready to listen to his father's last words for him.

In fact, what should have been said has been said a long time ago, and the writings left behind abound, which are already enough for his sons to take over the business they left behind.

All he wanted to say now was one sentence, which came to his mind as he recalled.

"God punishes incompetence and rewards cruelty, do what God says!"

Then, with his son's puzzled expression, he closed his eyes and ushered in the final restful sleep. (To be continued!)

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