CHAPTER 6 - Trying to forget


Vadim Kiselev - "Forgotten", "Sad story"


Before leaving, Andre handed Rosalie two sheets of paper. One was signed with her name and inside was the address of their new home in Charonne. The second sheet was signed with Oscar's name. The same day they left, Rosalie came to Oscar, handing her this paper. Oscar didn't even look at it, just threw it wordlessly onto the pile of papers on her desk and went back to bed. Rosalie just looked at her in amazement, then left the room, politely saying goodbye.

The note had been lying on Oscar's desk untouched for two months.

During this time Oscar felt as if she had fallen into some black abyss. She couldn't think clearly. She couldn't even distinguish one day from another. At first she wasn't even able to get dressed and go down to the dining room to eat. Then she was forced to do so, as her father wanted to eat breakfasts with her and, if only he was at home, required her to appear. So she gathered her last strength, dressed with difficulty, and went downstairs. She usually remained silent throughout the meal. She wouldn't know what to say anyway. Her mind was white as a sheet of paper. Or maybe as black as the night sky when the clouds obscure the stars and the moon? That's how she felt. As if her mind were covered with clouds, so thick that no thoughts or feelings could penetrate them. As if she was drifting in space without connection with the earth, and time did not exist. During these breakfasts, her father told her about what was happening in Versailles, and a lot had happened. However, as soon as she got up from the table, Oscar did not remember a single thing he had told her about. As if her memory didn't register any words. Oscar went back to the room, tooke off her shoes, and laid back to bed, huddled under the blanket. And so she could spend all day until evening.

Lasonne visited her several times. He examined her and prescibed some herbs. He was pleased because the woman's body was regenerating well, and there were no serious complications, despite the difficult course of labor. The breasts would continue to produce milk for weeks, but Lasonne advised to express a little until feeling of relief, but no more. This should speed up the drying of the breasts so that Oscar could put her uniform back on in the near future. Only the woman's state of mind worried the doctor, but since she was talking to him and smiling, he decided that it was not too bad and he did not put any pressure on her. Oscar was a strong person and she would definitely manage to overcome this weakness. Lasonne didn't know how much effort these visits and that forced smiles cost Oscar. When he left, all she could do was go to bed and sleep until morning. And then another day started as difficult as the previous one.

One day Oscar woke up and realized it was May 20th. So exactly two months have passed. Awareness of the importance of the day broke through the clouds that covered her mind, and the thought shone just as brightly as the sun's rays that peeked through her windows. Oscar got up, went to the desk, and, from under the pile of papers, she dig out a small piece of paper signed in a familiar handwriting. She opened it slowly, hesitating a little. On the left side of the page was the address of the bank on Rue de Vincennes, a new surname, and the number of the safe deposit box. The money she promised was to be put there. On the right, Andre wrote down the address of a house in Charonne and a few sentences.

Dear Oscar,

If you want to know what name I gave to our son, please come to this address. Or just to visit us. We will be waiting for you.

Andre

Oscar stared for a few moments at Andre's last words. To our son. We will be waiting. They will be waiting. They. Her legs began to tremble, so she slowly sat down in the chair by the desk. She slowly put the paper on the table and hid her face in her hands. She sat there for a long time, lost in thought and grief.

She couldn't visit them. She was not allowed to. The danger was too great.

Instead, she should finally come back to reality and try to forget. And live on.

That day, Oscar dressed with less effort than usual, got on her horse and went to Paris. She had left the money in a bank on Rue Saint Michel, labeling it properly so that it could be transferred to the Charonne branch. Then she drove back home. On the way, she stopped in a familiar place in the forest, where the Seine formed a small pool. It was their favorite hideout, Andre's and hers. The stab of pain in her heart reminded her that she shouldn't be bringing back memories. Forgetting. That's what she should do now. So she went home.

A month later, Oscar returned to the Royal Guard, closing the year with a symbolic buckle. A year earlier, on a June night, her life had turned upside down. A year later, she returned to the life she planned to start at that time. But she was completely different now. More serious. More strict.

With a stone, broken heart.

Oscar was very good at it. At forgetting. She shook herself violently to sober up, then took her life into her own hands. She did not allow herself the slightest mistake. Everything had to be perfect. Service. Guard. Fencing. Unlike those days when her mind was foggy, now her thoughts were crystal clear. Sharp as a sword blade. And when she had explained to herself that it was better as it was, she could finally move on.

Everything that happened around her only helped. Immediately after her return to service, a scandal broke out that was later named as „the necklace scandal". In July and August, the Queen received two letters from a jublier who allegedly sold her an expensive diamond necklace. In mid-August, Cardinal de Rohan and Countess Jeanne de la Motte-Valois were arrested in connection with this case. The Royal Guard had their hands full. Evidence was sought, witnesses were interrogated, and other suspects were arrested. Rohan and Valois waited for the trial locked in prison.

Months passed one by one, autumn came, and then winter. Oscar did not allow herself to think. Only one and only day of the month was different. When the twentieth arrived, Oscar would drive to the bank on Rue Saint Michel, deposit the money, and then stop by the Seine on the way home. She pulled out a wineskin from under her saddle, then drank herself unconscious. She didn't cry, she didn't scream, she just poured wine into herself in an automatic gesture, until the wineskin itself fell out of her hands.

The next day she was sick and then she returned to reality. Until another month.

...

March 1786

Twentieth of March eighty-six was supposed to be exactly the same day as every month. However, from the very morning Oscar realized that this day was entirely different.

Somewhere in Paris, there lived a boy who was about to turn one year old on that day. What did he look like? What was his hair and eyes? Had he already taken his first steps? Or maybe he had already spoken the first words?

What was his name?

All these questions pounded in Oscar's mind as she walked down the hall to Petite Trianon. As Commander of the Guard, she spent most of her time in Versailles, but several times a month she also visited the Queen, who had moved to a palace in Trianon some time before. The whole scandal related to the necklace and the growing reluctance of the people did not hasten the queen's decision to return to the main palace. With a sigh, Oscar opened the door to the chambers and reported to the queen.

- Good afternoon, Oscar - Marie Antoinette greeted her with a radiant smile, her face looking more pink than usual.

- Oh! It's our dear Colonel Oscar! - exclaimed pompously, but also with hidden mockery, Countess de Polignac, which was standing next to the queen - You appeared at the very perfect moment!

- Really? - Oscar replied coldly - What happened, Madame?

- Your Majesty, may I tell her? - the countess turned to the queen and blinked her long lashes coquettishly, as she used to

- Of course - Marie Antoinette blushed even more

- Dear Lady Oscar! - emphasized the countess - You will be one of the first people to find out! Even the king doesn't know yet - she giggled - I want to inform you that our queen is expecting another baby! - she exclaimed with a mixture of joy and venom

Oscar felt a chill spread around her heart. Recently, she had reacted in the same way to news about pregnancies and births. However, she decided not to give the Countess de Polignac this satisfaction and painted one of her most successful smiles on her face.

- What wonderful news! - she said in a sweet voice - I am so happy, Your Majesty!

She walked over to the woman and bowed politely, still smiling with the effort

- Thank you, Oscar - Marie Antoinette replied, modestly lowering her eyes

- Isn't it just great? - the Countess clapped her hands together - Therese, Joseph and Charles will have a brother or a sister. Children are such fantastic creatures! I'm not surprised that so many women have a bunch of them. Ehh, if only I could have one more child besides my Charlotte, I'd be so happy! But unfortunately it won't be given to me anymore.. - she added with mock sadness

Oscar clenched her hands into fists. This woman was unbearable! They both knew her true story very well, so it seemed she was deliberately trying to irritate her.

- This is very sad, Madame - she replied, clenching her hands even tighter

- It is, isn't it? - the countess chirped - But even more harsh, I'd even say terrible, is when a mother abandons her own child! How is it possible to be such a bad person! So insensitive! Would you agree with me, Lady Oscar? - the countess looked at her very intensely, ceasing to smile

Oscar frowned and looked back at her.

- It's hard for me to disagree with you, Madame - Oscar replied, thinking of little Rosalie - It's scary when a mother gives a baby to a stranger as if it were something that you could just get rid of.

- Right, right! Giving them to a stranger is a horror - de Polignac waved her hand - Probably better to leave the child with the family, with the father at least, right? - she smiled with malice, fixing Oscar with an icy gaze.

Oscar felt that she was getting faint. She knows, she thought fearfully.

- But anyway, a mother abandoning her own child is a monster - finished the Countess in a sepulchral voice, her eyes blazing.

Oscar's face turned pale. On that day exactly one year had passed since she gave birth to her own child. To that son she hardly remembers anymore. One she never even visited. So maybe what the countess says is true. Maybe that's what she was. A monster.

Oscar, having found an excuse, fled quickly from Trianon, bade farewell by Madame de Polignac's mocking gaze. At full gallop, she burst into the courtyard of de Jarjayes' manor, then ran to her own rooms. From a hiding place under the floor that only she knew about, she pulled out a small piece of paper signed by Andre. She read it, then put it in her pocket and hurried to Paris.

It was early evening when she stopped in front of Andre's house and the sky was already turning gray. At the address she read from the note, there was a small, single-store building with a porch and a garden with a huge linden tree. The house felt warm and cozy. There was light in most of the windows, and the house itself was decorated with colorful ribbons and paper-cut horses. Oscar hesitated. She stood just a short distance away so that she could not be seen even if one of the occupants stepped out onto the porch, but close enough to see or hear something. However, she did not know what to do next. Should she just walk in and knock? What would she say? How would Andre react when he saw her? As she stood there, unable to make up her mind, something began to happen inside the house. Oscar first heard Andre's familiar, happy laugh, a few incomprehensible words, and then a completely different laugh. Tiny as shiny pearls. Child laughs.

Oscar held her breath, then stepped back into the shadows. So that even the rising moon did not see the little silver tear that ran down her cheek. She leaned against the side of the building and closed her eyes. She felt another tear. And then another.

Her son lived in this house. And this son was happy. Andre was happy. She had no right to destroy their happiness with her appearance. And they didn't need her anymore. During that year they were doing so well on their own, why change it, destroy it. She wasn't present in their lives and maybe it should stay that way.

It was enough for her to know that they were here, so close, safe and joyful. She was sure that Andre was a great father and that the little one was not missing anything. Anything. Even a mother.

Especially one like her.

Why are you crying? - Oscar asked herself - You threw yourself out of their lives and now you have no right to despair. You made your decision.

She looked for a moment longer at the silver crescent moon, which slowly rolled into the graying sky. A long time ago she indeed made her decision. It was difficult and painful, but she could not make another. And now there was no turning back.

So let it stay like this, she thought again, and returned home.

A month later Charlotte, the legitimate daughter of the Countess de Polignac, committed suicide by jumping off the clock tower. Soon after, Rosalie, without explaining anything, moved out of the de Jarjayes manor and moved to the house of her biological mother. A couple of months later she disappeared, dissolving among the gloomy tenement houses of the Parisian slums.