e the answer I beseech yet, Edith," he maintained that sincere smile, raising his gaze to meet her eyes as if nothing was amiss.
She saw her own face, devoid of any trace of a smile, reflected in the luminous and translucent ruby, mirrored once again in his crystalline blue eyes.
In an instant, the ardent and profound love of the past year surged within her heart. Countless words floated on the edge of her lips, but in the end, she could only muster a tremulous voice and utter a poignant question:
"Raphael... He''ll be alright, won''t he?"
The smile faded ever so slightly from Andre''s lips, his head gradually lowering, golden locks cascading down.
"You don''t want to answer?" She paused for a moment before asking again.
"Do we have to talk about him now?" he still spoke with a lowered head.
Edith pushed the ring back to its original position. "If you can''t give me a reassuring answer, Quenet, then I''m afraid I can''t give you one either."
It was only then that Andre raised his head, gazing at her with a mournful expression.
Just as Edith was about to pull away and leave, her skirt was tugged from behind. She turned back and saw Andre, both knees now on the ground, reaching out to hold her hand and offering the black box to her.
"At least keep this," his voice trembled, without looking at her, "and when you''re ready to give me a promise, I''ll personally place it on your finger."
-----------------------
Andre strode swiftly through the veil of night, his shadow stretching long beneath the streetlights. His dark crimson overcoat billowed behind him, whispering in the wind like a banner dancing in solitude.
As he turned a corner into a dimly lit alleyway, Raphael Saint-Clemont stumbled forward, his hands tightly grasping the lapels of Andre''s shirt.
Raphael''s blonde hair were disheveled from the rush, and the lamplight cast a faint yellow halo upon his pale cheeks. The handsome faces of these two young men, pressed close to each other, were so strikingly similar, yet their temperaments were in stark contrast: one exuded an air of haughty coldness, suppressing a burning fury within, while the other wretched and desolate, consumed by despair.
"You madman," There was a quaver in Raphael''s voice as he confronted Andre, "are you really going to murder Danton with them? How much more blood do you need to satisfy yourself?!"
"This is