Flowers, Swords and France

Under the fading sunlight, the warm and gentle island breeze in the evening swept across every field in Clermont.

The British summer is never too hot, and now it is the season between summer and autumn. The green fields and lush forests make the whole countryside comfortable and pleasant.

However, in such a rare comfortable and pleasant atmosphere, a villa in the countryside of Clermont is surrounded by disturbing clouds of sorrow. The tenants and gentry who were resting in the evening watched the hurried figures passing through the villa, so they began to whisper to each other, just as a pastime in their spare time.

"I heard that the old man couldn't make it." After observing for a long time, a villager said to the people next to him, "The doctor has been coming and going since last month. He came out for a walk a while ago, but now he is gone. It seems that he is about to die...?"

"Oh, that's really pitiful..." the person next to him answered casually. "He has to die in a foreign land at such an old age..."

"It's better than being like poor Louis XVI." A middle-aged man who looked like a country gentleman shrugged his shoulders, not minding that he had made a rather malicious joke to a big shot. "At least he died of old age, right?" "Oh..."

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

Although everyone knew that the old French king lived in seclusion in this villa, in the eyes of these British villagers, it was just a small topic of conversation in the evening wind, and it would disappear without a trace in a short time.

The sighs of others. Of course, they could not be transmitted to the country villa.

In fact, as outsiders guessed, there was an indescribable tense atmosphere in the villa at this time. The servants looked nervous and kept walking around, and even rarely talked to each other.

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

The eyes of these people were all focused on the old man lying on the bed.

Although the old man was already terminally ill, his expression was still normal. He just closed his eyes, as if he was just sleeping.

A gray-haired woman sat beside him, holding his hand tightly, tears kept flowing from her eyes. She just restrained herself with great willpower. So as not to cry out loud. This old woman was the former queen of France, and this old man was naturally the former king of France, Louis-Philippe I.

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

Since the doctor told the queen that they were powerless. Although in pain, the queen still maintained her dignity and politely thanked the doctor for his recent hard work. Then she dismissed them and accompanied her husband to watch him leave.

They had a good relationship. Since they got married in 1809, they have been in love for half a century and have given birth to ten children. Although he became a king, he never had any romantic affairs. Now they have children and grandchildren, who are around them.

They have experienced countless ups and downs together, but now they are facing the separation destined by God.

Although she knew that this was an inevitable ending, the queen still felt a heart-wrenching 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, her tears could not stop flowing.

What made her so heartbroken was not only the separation from her husband, but also the place of farewell. A French king had to leave the world in Britain. It must be said that this was a different kind of mockery.

My husband should not die in an unknown countryside in Britain. Didn't he do so much for France? If he hadn't been driven out by those people, he wouldn't have left so soon... The queen couldn't help thinking so, and her tears flowed more quickly.

She was angry about the humiliation her husband had suffered, and even more angry about what her family had experienced.

"Your Majesty..." Under the impetus of this unspeakable sadness, she took her husband's hand and placed it on her chest. Tears fell drop by drop, but she was unaware, "That nation has failed you, God will make them doomed! Whether it's the British, Russians, or Germans, they will definitely trample on this nation for you and for God, and make them pay for their betrayal!"

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

He opened his eyes slightly, but in front of him was a white mist, and he couldn't see anything clearly. Only the cool touch on his hands could make him feel a little proof that he was still alive.

I'm still alive.

A silhouette gradually emerged in the mist, and the old man's dim eyes finally saw the person closest to him.

Is it Adelaide?

Oh, it turned out to be the queen. The old man suddenly had a flash of light in his heart.

"That nation has failed you, and God will make them fall into eternal damnation!"

The queen's crying voice reached his ears.

God, oh, God!

This word, like lightning, cut through the chaos covering his mind and made the old king suddenly sober up.

The white mist in front of him disappeared, and everything 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. The square was crowded with all kinds of people. Although these people were dressed in shabby clothes, they looked very excited. People smiled at each other, and some people kept cheering, just like attending a joyful rally.

He stood in the crowd and followed them to look at the road leading to the square in the distance. It was such a cheerful scene. But it made people feel inexplicably depressed.

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

The thick clouds in the sky were getting thicker and thicker, as if they were going to cover all the sunlight so that the Holy Father in the sky would not have to witness this moment with his own eyes.

This was January 21, 1793, the day they cut off Louis XVI's head.

The old king finally had a flash of enlightenment at this time - I was reminiscing.

He saw this scene with his own eyes.

At that time, his original title was Duke of Chartres. Of course, after the fury of the Revolution swept across France, this title also disappeared along with the dynasty itself.

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

The king quietly waited for the progress of the memory, like an audience watching a drama. When he was young, when he was old. Their sights seemed to overlap. They stared at the square under the sky together, and recalled the moment he would never forget.

The terrifying machine in the center of the square made him feel colder than any object or person. Although he could vaguely see when he was young that this terrible machine, like a demon that devoured human lives, had devoured many lives before and would surely devour more lives in the future, he only knew it later. After Robespierre led the Jacobins to defeat the rule of the Girondists, it would soon drink the blood of a large number of revolutionary leaders and even his father himself.

Then. It drank the blood of Robespierre, Danton and others.

How did all this happen? Until almost 60 years had passed, the old man felt that he could not fully explain it all.

Since it can't be explained, just watch it quietly.

Not long after, there was a commotion in the crowd. A team of soldiers came slowly with a carriage.

"He's coming!"

"He's going to be tortured!"

"He's going to die!"

Until 60 years later, these whispers full of joy are still as vivid as yesterday, and the old man has never forgotten them.

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

Then, four soldiers escorted a man down from the carriage.

This was a fat man with a gentle and submissive look. Even at this moment, he was still at a loss, and from time to time he showed a generous and flattering smile to the soldiers escorting him. It seemed that he was still ignorant of his current situation - even though the National Assembly had already told him of the death sentence.

What an isolated person this is! He doesn't look like a former king, but more like a small innkeeper.

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

This was his personal tragedy, but not the misfortune of the country - the country needed someone to be responsible for the bad rule and unspeakable poverty. As a king who enjoyed all the glory, wasn't he the best person in charge?

This kind of honest smile and this innocent character, on the owner of a blacksmith shop, can allow him to spend his life in peace and stability; but on the owner of a country, how can it not bring terrible disasters to his country and his family?

Although he was the supreme ruler of a country, he was manipulated by others when he was alive, and he had no choice when he died.

He was kind and gentle, neither cruel nor cold. He was willing to accept others' suggestions humbly, and would not easily get angry at those who offended him. He did whatever people told him to do, and even when he was sent to the guillotine, he did not resist - wouldn't such a king have to go to the guillotine?

The original text is in the six # 9 @book/bar!

"Down with the tyrant!"

"Kill him!"

"Cut off his head!"

Amidst the shouts and cheers of the storm, the king with a calm expression was taken to the execution platform.

Under the attention of the crowd, he "plopped" to his knees in front of the priest, as if he was completing the last step of a ceremony as a king, just like in the past, instead of his last death ceremony.

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

He said something, but it was soon drowned out by the roar and cheers. Everyone was waiting for him to die, and he himself was not prepared to resist this result.

After he finished speaking, he knelt down obediently and stuck his head into the groove of the torture instrument.

The time is up and the blade falls rapidly.

"Bang!"

The sound sounded like a hard walnut being cracked open with a mallet. It was the last trace left by a once sacred and inviolable king to the world. This country has struggled to gain freedom from itself. Offer a precious sacrifice—and there will be many more to come.

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

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

"Long live France!"

God did not take his life, but his former subjects did.

In the midst of all the noise and cheers, the young man could not hear what the king was saying until much later. Only then did I learn that what he said was - "I am innocent. I forgive my enemies, and I hope my blood can appease the anger of God."…

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

As if to blame the king who was so stubborn until his death, the old man suddenly murmured to himself.

"Your Majesty?" The queen, who had been crying, couldn't help but exclaimed when she saw that her husband seemed to have some consciousness. "Are you awake? Are you okay?"

The king opened his eyes again. This time he regained complete consciousness and saw clearly everyone next to him.

The queen cried for herself beside her, and her children and grandchildren also stood at the bedside, respectfully accompanying her in her last moments. It's not a fantasy. But actually stay by your side. He and his whole family are dead, but I am full of descendants.

My father signed his death warrant. I expelled his brothers and took away the dynasty for which he died. If there is a God, why did God care for him?

He who begs from God never deserves anything.

"Haha..." King Louis-Philippe couldn't help laughing.

"Your Majesty?" The queen next to her was puzzled by her husband's sudden laughter, and even thought it was deathbed delirium. "What's wrong? Do you want to say something?"

There is nothing special to say. It is not that he did nothing during his seclusion. The family affairs have already been arranged. Although he was kicked off the throne by the traitors, he has accumulated a huge amount of property over the years. , even after experiencing the impact of the revolution, many of them have survived. These properties have been well taken care of. As the family's mutual fund, the income generated every year will be distributed to his sons and their heirs. If used properly, these assets will be enough to make his children and grandchildren live a prosperous life for generations to come. life.

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

No, it's not enough at all.

The country that took generations and painstaking efforts to win and that was once accidentally lost again must be embraced again.

Even if he can never see this scene again, his children and grandchildren must also complete such a cause, because this is the innate mission of this family - at least in his opinion.

My vision is getting blurry, and the figure in front of me is looming, just like the poor king...

I lost, so I am incompetent, but I did not lose at your hands. I will never beg for forgiveness because you are not qualified to forgive me.

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

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

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

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

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

What should be said has actually been said a long time ago, and the documents left behind are everywhere, which is enough for his sons to take over all the businesses he left behind.

There was only one sentence he wanted to say now, which suddenly came to his mind while reminiscing.

"God punishes incompetence and rewards cruelty. Do what God says!"

Then, with his son's puzzled expression on his face, he closed his eyes and ushered in his final sleep.