Edith Liberty

itions than before."

"Well, since I''m living alone, there''s no need to furnish the place," Andre replied.

"You''re not painting anymore? The room is full of files and manuscripts."

"Painting cannot save France," Andre chuckled. "Certainly, I don''t mean to satirize the patriots in the Committee of Art. Art is still necessary for education."

"I need to come up with a pen name for myself," Edith said, her fingers tapping together in vivacious imagination.

"What do you think of ''Liberty''?" Andre suggested. "Aren''t you ''Lady Liberty''?"

"Ah, so you''ve heard about that, too! But ''Liberty'', a wonderful idea! Especially since the word is feminine." Edith smiled heartily.

"If you have any ideas now, you can directly write here so I can take it for printing today," Andre pointed the low writing desk.

"Of course! I can write a dozen articles anytime!" With a proud toss of her head, Edith sat down at the desk.

"Let me think... The title will be, hmm, ''On the Virtue of Revolution,''" she became inspired, her pen flying across the paper in elegant and strong strokes.

Soon, she held up the page to Andre. "I''m finished."

Andre eagerly read her words. "Fantastic! You can''t imagine how many editors would crave this capacity of yours," He couldn''t help but slap the paper, almost shouting. "They complain that the demand of journalism for speed is a tomb for talent. But you, Edith, such a piece, concise yet rich, plain yet beautiful! Who could have imagined that it would be completed in such a short time, if not for me witnessing it with my own eyes!"

"Your tone makes me think of our teacher-student days again," Edith said proudly. "Since there''s nothing to be revised, let me sign it with my new pen name."

She took the manuscript, and signed it with a flourish: "Liberty."

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On the second day, Andre walked up to Edith with a gratified smile