Can this be a sin?（1 / 8）

This joy is too unreal, and therefore, hard to last. The raindrops fell unexpectedly, barely giving people time to decide whether to ignore them or not, before quickly turning into a downpour that stung their faces with a painful intensity. The tourists had to hastily pack up their picnic blankets and scurry back inside with discomfiture.

The seven of them retreated to their respective rooms assigned, shedding their drenched garments and then reconvened in the dining hall.

When the storm interrupted, everyone''s senses were at their most heightened state, making the disappointment all the more acute. Not a single person could muster the energy to continue the lighthearted banter and games from earlier. They all fell into a silent malaise, each occupying themselves with their own business.

As evening approached, the rain still showed no signs of relenting. The fierce wind howled and raged, the thunderclaps growing louder and closer, booming through their hearts.

Seeing his hopes of playing outdoors dashed, Little Horace began to fuss and cry. His tantrum only served to exacerbate the already-frayed nerves of those inside.

Lucile finally managed to soothe the child to sleep, softly excusing herself before carrying the little one up the stairs.

"When do you think it will end, Camille?" Danton, standing at the window and smoking, suddenly asked.

"The rain? It won''t end," Desmoulins answered, his tone tinged with gloom.

"You know I''m not talking about the rain," Danton pondered. "The Terror. Will it ever end?"

"It won''t. Whether it''s the rain or the Terror," answered Raphael from the corner, his gaze fixed and distant. "Paris or the countryside, no matter where we go, it''s all the same."

"You''re letting the rain get the best of you, Saint-Clemont," said Camille Desmoulins, struggling to rally his spirits. "I''ll continue to persuade Robespierre. I believe reason and clemency will ul