Reincarnated: Vive La France
Chapter 232: That justice need not destroy what it seeks to protect.

Chapter 232: That justice need not destroy what it seeks to protect.

The morning after the final verdicts.

Paris awoke in an unexpected silence

On the narrow streets of Saint‑Germain‑des‑Prés.

Henri, a poet scarred by the decade’s turbulence, sat at a corner table with three friends Louise, a former schoolteacher, Marcel, a middle‑aged journalist and Colette, his junior intern.

"Listen," Henri whispered, stirring his café au lait slowly.

"We judged a man once called France’s savior and we listened carefully instead of tearing him apart."

Louise’s eyes glistened. "And justice was calm," she said. "Measured. Not vengeful."

Marcel leaned in, tapping his notebook.

"My editor insists this is more than drama it’s a rebirth. France didn’t fracture. We stayed standing."

Colette, exhausted after weeks of midnight press desks, added quietly.

"Even in the shadows, I felt something shift like history shifted too."

Outside, 1 in the 11th arrondissement.

Emma, a miner’s wife, adjusted the radio knob as her husband Pierre entered.

She pressed the set closer.

"They judged without hanging. They judged without hatred," she whispered into the room.

Pierre sat heavily but reached for her hand.

"This is real justice," he said. "They punished Sarraut, but spared France."

Across rivers and vineyards in Bordeaux, villagers gathered in the square.

They raised glasses of ruby wine and nodded in quiet approval as one local vintner.

Jean Morel, tapped his glass.

"Ten men lost in the strikers’ march," he said, voice trailing. "Now Sarraut goes away for good."

He surveyed the crowd. "Blum’s done with public life, but Sarraut’s where he belongs in custody."

A woman nearby wiped her tears. "Finally," she said.

"Finally we are counted again."

By midday, metal newsstands almost buckled under the weight of today’s papers.

Le Figaro’s headline read, "Measured Justice, Not Mob Vengeance."

L’Humanité declared, "Strikers Avenged in Court."

Le Temps yelled, "France Judged Itself."

Visitors paused at the kiosks, reading slowly, absorbing each nuance as though discovering a new country.

Outside Paris, translations appeared in newspapers from London to Buenos Aires.

Reuters splashed.

"A general tried, not exiled,"

While the Associated Press declared. "France’s democratic judges prove democracy can hold itself accountable."

Whitehall’s diplomatic dispatches buzzed.

"France took its reckoning and didn’t break."

In Berlin, the French embassy’s cable noted.

"A decision made without blood speaks volumes."

In Washington, State Department briefings reflected cautious admiration.

"A precedent in restraint."

In Buenos Aires, intellectuals at the Circolo Italiano debated late into the night.

One recounted in Italian.

"They judged a man of power peacefully. Can there ever be a precedent for this?"

Another responded, "Perhaps, but the real question do we want it enough to replicate it here?"

In Montreal, priests gathered with candles at morning Mass. Sister-en‑chef Anne whispered.

"Our sister Republic, steadied by justice..."

A congregation responded with a chorus of "Amen."

Trade union halls across northern France rang with applause.

In Lille, the union leader, Emile addressed a standing crowd.

"Today they judged the men who crushed us but they didn’t crush us back," he said, voice quivering. "That is true justice."

In Marseille, dozens of candlelit vigils formed.

At Notre-Dame de la Garde square, former political prisoners placed flowers at banners proclaiming "Truth Over Tyranny."

A taxi driver in Lyon recounted an exchange to me.

"My fare said Not force fairness" and he smiled at the memory. A university professor added.

"This will be taught in history classes as the moment France chose rule of law over chaos."

Among Great War veterans at the Place de la Concorde, older men nodded.

"They judged the soldier they respected his sacrifice yet held him to account," one said, cane tapping the pavement.

His friend added, "They judged the statesman, but spared his honor."

In little homes in Normandy, Perpignan, Rennes, families whispered renewal.

In Perpignan, a schoolteacher turned pages by megaphone in a children’s room.

"We judge not to humiliate, but to unite," she read from Moreau’s speech.

"Les Juges du Pays!"

A gramophone in a rustic living room cracked open with "Le Chant des Partisans" not as defiance, but as quiet hope at the day’s end.

Back in Paris, broadcast vans rolled through residential avenues.

Loudspeakers rounded corners, speaking Moreau’s words.

"We judged not to humiliate, but to elevate. We judged not to divide, but to unite. This Republic emerges not out of fear it emerges out of justice. Let this time stand as proof that a nation can hold its worst and save its best."

"La Liberté par la Loi" became a whispered mantra not yet a chant.

Still, glasses clicked as people toasted new rules, new chances, fresh pages.

Diplomatic quarters on rue de Rivoli.

A British envoy said, "They did it in the light."

A German intelligence officer quietly added, "If France holds like this... that matters."

In Vienna and Prague, students stayed late, wondering if their nations might replicate it.

In Madrid, murmurs spread.

"If Paris can balance law and authority..."

On the Pont Neuf, a student raised a hand not in defiance, but homage..

"Vive la France" he whispered into the night.

And in that hush over all of France, the memory of March 1937 endured not because of fear, but because of hope.

That law, when tempered with mercy, might reconstruct what hatred once fractured.

The verdicts acquittal with restraint, conviction with clarity offered a covenant, fragile and luminous.

That justice need not destroy what it seeks to protect.

As Paris slipped into midnight calm, thousands spoke softly.

"They did this. We did this. And we can do it again."

A new page in history of France began.

Where for once when power transition happened blood didn’t flowed.

Head didn’t get chopped and the relics of old power weren’t slaughtered.

A Military government once again gave hope to the French people that no one else could give.

But this time somehow it was more democratic than the actual Democracy.

Moreau will begin this new era of France but it will face huge challenges.

From Ongoing Spanish Civil War to the upcoming World War 2.

Moreau knows everything so what will he choose?

How will he approach this.

Will he do a preemptive strike and weed out the root.

Too many questions to answer.

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END OF VOLUME 1