CHAPTER 21 - Painting and ambivalence
Vadim Kiselev - The Autumn Falls - November, Dancing Leaves
November 1789
- Please, here you are! Your coffee - Pierre set a steaming mug in front of her, smiling brightly.
- Thank you - Oscar replied a bit embarrassed.
The boy continued to show his attention to her, even though she tried to discourage him in all possible ways. But he did not seem to care. When she was silent, he tried to chat her up. When she pretended to be sad, he tried to cheer her up. When she made fun of him, he laughed with her. Pierre was the kind of person who seemed to jump over all obstacles without unnecessary scrutiny and leave worries behind him. He was a very light soul. Or so Oscar seemed. Perhaps that was why she was trying to push him away. Trying to get close to her could only hurt him. Anyway, her heart was already taken.
When she came to work on the first day after talking to Andre, Pierre gave her a long and meaningful look.
- Your eyes are shining today, Queen - he said - Has something good happened? Or you're just glad to see me? - he joked.
- You wish – chuckled Eve, who was sitting next to Oscar.
- I'd rather not spoil your good mood, my dear Pierre Arnaud - Oscar replied in her ordinary, flat voice. The same one that always frightened her soldiers. Yet none of her new friends had ever been afraid of her or her voice.
- I told you - Eve winked at the boy, smiling maliciously - I'm sure it's because of some man.
Oscar felt herself flush to the roots of her hair. Automatically, she began scratching the paper with her pen, pretending to take notes.
- What? - Pierre blurted out without thinking.
- M a n - Eve spelled silently.
A longitudinal wrinkle appeared on Pierre's forehead, and his eyebrows drew closer together. His whole face expressed boundless worry.
- Don't talk nonsense! - Oscar scolded her friend.
Pierre beamed at once. He nodded significantly at Eve, as if he were saying "did you hear it?". Oscar had the impression that he wanted to show his collegue a tongue. The boy sometimes acted like a child despite being twenty something.
And this child seemed to adore her.
..
- Does it taste good? - Pierre asked, staring at her expectantly.
Oscar broke away from the memories of the previous week, suddenly realizing she froze with a cup of coffee close to her mouth. She took a sip of the warm drink.
- Very good, thank you - she replied, and Pierre nodded approvingly.
When she began to ignore his presence again, the boy sighed in disappointment, then sat down at his desk and nervously flipped through the papers that had piled up on his desk for a moment. Then he stood up abruptly, pulled a chair closer to Oscar and straddled it. He rested his forearms on the armrest, rested his head on them, and for a moment stared at the woman scratching the paper without saying a word.
- Mademoiselle Francoise? - he finally hooked her gently.
- Mm - she muttered, really busy checking the students' work by now.
- I would like to.. - he began hesitantly - I would like to paint you.
Oscar tore her gaze from the sheet of paper and stared at him with an expression of utter amazement.
- Paint? - she replied with a surprised voice - But what for? I'm not dying yet - she laughed sarcastically.
Pierre said nothing, a bit surprised at her words. Oscar stared at him for a moment, trying to understand his intentions. His face, however, was serious. The boy was not kidding.
- Are you a painter? - she asked, trying to break the awkward silence.
- Yes and no - he replied - My father was a painter. I learned a bit by watching him. I paint for entertainment, usually landscapes, rarely portraits. However.. your face.. - he started to stutter a little, as if suddenly losing all his previous confidence - Your face is so beautiful, Francoise.. that I allowed myself the impudence to ask you. I'm absolutely sure I want to paint you.
Oscar laughed, but no more malice. Pierre's words were sincere and his intentions pure. He always said what he thought, and you never had to think too long about what was in his head. He was the kind of person who had what was in his head also on his tongue, as the old proverb said. He was uncomplicated but somehow cute. Very direct. It was an invigorating experience for Oscar after spending so long with the complex and mysterious still Andre.
- You laugh and you didn't say "no" to me right away - Pierre said cheerfully - It gives me hope that you will agree. You agree, don't you? - he asked, cocking his head in funny way.
Oscar laughed again.
- I know one place nearby - the boy continued - There used to be a park there, but then people stopped coming and the place became overgrown. But there are some benches to sit comfortably on. November is so beautiful this year, so many colors on the trees, have you seen it? Let's go today, okay?
- Today? - Oscar's eyes widened in astonishment. Pierre didn't waste a chance - We won't even have time to take.. - she began, but the boy pointed her finger at a large sketchbook placed next to his desk. Indeed, it was not there previously. Pierre must have planned this beforehand, so in the morning he took what was needed from his house.
- I only need a sketchbook for today - he replied with a smile - I would do some sketches while the weather is fine. When it starts to rain, I will be able to work on the painting at home. Maybe even.. maybe you will even visit me one day - he added boldly.
This boy's insolence was disarming.
- Maybe - Oscar said flatly, laughing inwardly.
- I have many paintings of my father at home - Pierre added in a more serious tone - They and the apartment are the only his things left. My father died four years ago.
- I'm sorry - said Oscar sincerely - And your mother?
- She has been dead for many years - replied Pierre - I was still a child when she died.
- I'm sorry - Oscar said again.
- Father would be furious if he knew that I started to paint again - the boy laughed thoughtfully - Although I think that if he saw you.. - he looked at her with a twinkle in his eye - Father painted beautiful landscapes, but he liked painting people the most. He said that there is nothing more beautiful than the emotions reflected in a human face. I have a lot of his sketches, small portraits and big paintings. I really wish you could see them - he concluded with sincerity in his voice.
Oscar swallowed hard. It seems she misjudged him. Pierre was immature and too frivolous at times, but deep down he seemed to be a sensitive person. His invitation was sincere and without hidden overtones.
- I would love to see them one day - she replied smiling, and his face lit up - But as for today's painting..
- Come on - Pierre interrupted, suddenly leaping up from his seat.
He grabbed the sketchbook and drawing utensils from the desk, then grabbed her hand and dragged her along. All she had time to do was put down the empty coffee cup and reached for the scarf. Pierre's hand was warm and dry, and he held her gently but firmly. Oscar allowed herself to be led all the way from the school, through the little crowded streets of Chavigny, to the banks of the River Angles.
The Commander of the Royal Guard, who had never allowed such behavior towards herself before, had long since been forgotten.
At the river, Pierre released her hand in embarrassment.
- I'm sorry - he whispered - I was afraid you'd run away from me.
She shook her head with a smile, motioning for him not to worry. Then she looked around. A wide river meandered through the center of Chavigny Town. A narrow, paved path ran along it, and when they finally passed houses and tenement houses, it began to disappear, overgrown with grass and weeds. Pierre went first, showing and paving the way. Oscar followed him, taking care not to trip over uneven stones along the path. After a while, they passed what might once have been a gate leading to a garden or park. There the path forked and ran between tall trees and feral rose bushes. Pierre continued along the river, then stopped. The overgrown garden opened a bit here, creating a small clearing in the middle of which stood a stone bench. There were many wild rose bushes around, many of which still had buds and flowers on them.
- Please, sit down - Pierre indicated her place on the bench, and he pulled a short stump from behind one of the trees, which he placed at a distance. He sat down and took out a sketchbook and pencil.
- I don't know what to do - Oscar complained.
- You don't have to do anything - the boy replied, his voice clearly trembling with emotion - Just sit down and rest.
Oscar obediently took her seat, fighting her nervousness. She never liked being painted and avoided it as much as she could in the past. Her parents kept several family portraits, painted in her childhood, where she posed alone, or with her sisters or the whole family. After that, Oscar only allowed herself to be painted once, right after Louis' accession to the throne and her own promotion. The small portrait, for which she posed in her newly received carmine uniform, then hung for a long time in a representative place in the main living room. Then Oscar promised herself that she would only allow to be portrayed when she had little life left. But now she was sitting in this wild garden, on a mossy stone bench, in a blue satin dress, and allowed herself to be drawn by a man whom she had never known a few weeks ago.
Or maybe that's what it should be like. All past motivations should stay in the past. Now she hoped she would have many long months and years, many more lifetime. This life that just began. She was now a different person from the one who posed lofty for the portrait hanging in the family living room. She was now Francoise Boyer. A poor teacher from Angles. Nobody.
Nobody, and yet everything. She was a woman. She was a mother. She was an honest worker. Mentor. A friend. Object of attention. A life that once seemed mediocre to her turned out to be worth more than orders and honors.
A quiet life. In the house where her little son was waiting for her. At Andre's side.
Andre, who wasn't angry anymore. Who, smiling, served her sliced bread at breakfast. Who, when she came home from work, nodded happily, and sometimes gently squeezed her hand, glad she went home back safely. Andre making her hot chocolate sometimes, if he could buy it at the market. Talking to her calmly and friendly.
Since that night conversation by the bonfire, they did not return to those topics anymore. They both decided that the matters had been sufficiently clarified and that there was no point in going back to the painful memories. So they tried to live as if this part of their past had never happened. They were joking as before. They laughed and talked. They looked after each other exactly as they had when they still lived together in the de Jarjayes manor. Everything seemed to be back to normal. However, Oscar was well aware that everything wasn't what it used to be. That the trembling of her heart that always appeared when he smiled at her or touched her hand was not just from gratitude or relief. Her heart knew what she really wanted.
Oscar often visited the forge under any pretext. Sometimes she would bring Andre dinner if he was too busy to eat with them. Sometimes she went with a glass of water or a cup of coffee. To look after Caesar or a little patterned cow. Or tell Andre some news that Grandma just brought, or one of the neighbors. Many times she found herself sitting on a bench against the wall among tools instead of going home right away, watching Andre working. She has hardly ever done this in the past. She always hastily handed over the horse's reins to him when they returned, and they left just as quickly in the morning. Always on the run, no time for reflection, no moment to stop. She rarely saw the gentleness with which he dealt with horses, almost never him working hard.
Andre allowed her to hang out in the forge without a single word against it. Often, busy with work, he didn't even have time to talk to her. But for Oscar it was enough. Sometimes she wondered how much she looked now like Lilianne, the nanny's sister, who sat in the same place for years, watching her beloved Fabrice and secretly sighing at him. But was she sure she wanted to end up like Lilianne?
Oscar sighed. She couldn't tell Andre about her feelings. He made himself clear then. They are trying to put together a friendship. She couldn't count on anything else. Just like Lilianne.
..
- If you're tired, we can finish for now - said Pierre, who immediately noticed the change in the woman's expression.
- Don't worry - she replied, opening her eyes, which she unconsciously closed, sinking into memories and dreams.
She looked around, eyes more alert now. The sun's rays shone through the brown-yellow leaves and gave everything a golden hue. The day was warm and windless, and only from time to time a slight gust of wind knocked more dry leaves from the branches, which fell softly, quietly rustling. The rose flowers, the ones that survived the cold nights, smelled stunning.
- It's a really beautiful place - Oscar said admiring the surroundings - How did you find it?
- I live nearby - Pierre replied, sketching diligently, rubbing the pencil over and over with his fingers - Actually, we passed my house on the way. As a young boy, I often went to hide from my father here. He didn't like seeing me with a brush. He said I was going to waste my life. Exactly as he did.. - the boy paused and looked at her nervously, but Oscar only nodded her head as a sign that she was listening - When I was a child, he taught me to draw and paint. Back then, he still wanted to share with me what he loved so much. Later.. Life changed him.. Death of my mother. But he never gave up painting. The paintings were like air to him. He breathed them - Pierre laughed - You'll find out about it when you visit me one day. Since his death, I haven't changed anything in our apartment. It's just as cluttered as it was during his lifetime.
- Father didn't want you to become a painter? - Oscar asked curiously - Why, if it was so important to him?
- Painting never brought him money, - said the boy sardonically - Or happiness. So he preferred me to become a clerk or a lawyer. He said it was a more sensible job. So he sent me to school, and I tried to study diligently. I painted in secret, but it was not easy when you do not have the money to buy your own utensils. If I had taken anything, my father would have realized immediately - Pierre laughed - When my father died, I quit my job and became a teacher. And I started to paint again.. - He paused, as if memories had overwhelmed him for a moment. He looked from the drawing he was still painstakingly sketching to Oscar's face and saw that she was staring at him intently - You probably think this is weird. Instead of following my heart, I did..
- What your father wanted - Oscar finished for him, feeling a twinge of pain in her heart.
Why is the same pattern repeated in the lives of so many people? Why are parents' ambitions more important than the happiness of their own children?
- Yes - Pierre agreed, his eyes showing sadness.
- We succumb too many times to other people and do what someone wants us to do, not what we should do and what our heart desires - Oscar said seriously - Life is not fair.
- I can feel bitterness in your voice, Queen - smiled the boy - If you ever decide that you want to let go of what is biting you, remember that I am here. You can share your life story with me. I'm sure that our stories could have something in common - he winked at her, returning to drawing.
- What do you mean? - Oscar asked, a little too abruptly.
Pierre looked up at her in surprise, but then softened immediately.
- When you visit me sometime, you'll understand - he replied, laughing.
- Since you're so secretive, Mr. "I say everything I think" - Oscar teased.
She liked to tease him sometimes.
- It's just such a small, harmless secret - Pierre laughed again, flashing the blue of his eyes - I hope that I will encourage you to visit. Eve also said you like chocolate. I have some in store. From the time I worked in the mayor's office, I have some friends who travel a lot. One of them recently brought me chocolate that came straight from Africa. When you visit me, I'll make you a cup of the best chocolate you've ever had. You'll see for yourself!
Oscar decided not to forget to shout at her friend when they meet in two days. She rose from her seat.
- Let's finish for today - she said in a cooler tone than she intended - I should be getting home by now.
Pierre's hand froze halfway to the sketchbook. He looked at her closely for a moment, then got up and walked over to her. He took her hand very gently in his, as if he were dealing with something very precious and fragile.
- I'm sorry - he said softly - I insulted you, even though I didn't want to. I didn't mean anything by it, but if you like, I will never mention visiting me again.
She nodded and very carefully took her hand out of his embrace. They returned to the school in complete silence. Oscar could see the sadness in his eyes as he waved her goodbye. She really liked this boy and was sorry she must have caused him pain. But it was better for him. She couldn't offer him what he wanted.
…
As she returned home, the sun was slowly going down. As she passed Saint-Pierre-de-Maille, the sky started to turn orange, then red. It was then that on the horizon, high on a rise, she saw the familiar silhouette of Andre. He was sitting motionless on his horse, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun and staring intensely in her direction. He looked like a marble monument, only his hair and clothes were ruffled by the wind that had just started blowing from the west. Oscar's heart made a nervous jump, and at one point she was even ready to turn off the road and drive around through the fields. The feeling that had germinated in her for some time made her fearful and vulnerable. But she took a few deep breaths to stifle her anxiety, raised her head courageously and galloped towards him.
- You're later than usual - Andre said as she stopped next to him - We've all started to worry already. Something happened?
Oscar felt her head completely empty, and no meaningful excuse came to her mind. Besides, why shouldn't she tell the truth, she hadn't done anything wrong.
- I posed for a portrait - she replied, trying to sound emotionless.
- What?! - Andre snorted - Are you kidding? You hate posing! - he laughed startled.
- Indeed, I don't like it - she admitted - But someone asked me so nicely that I couldn't refuse.
She shrugged and gestured for the horse to move.
Andre stood thoughtful for a moment, but then quickly caught up with her.
- You let yourself be painted by some unknown man? - he deliberated the topic after a while - It is completely unlike you.
Out of the corner of her eye, Oscar saw him staring at her curiously, so she didn't turn her head.
- He is a friend from school, a teacher - she replied bravely - He is also a painter.
Andre stared at her in surprise.
- But you.. you don't.. - he broke off, because suddenly he realized that he was starting to question her about something that was entirely her private affair. And it was Oscar. He couldn't ask her about such things.
She laughed. Was it her imagination or did Andre just act like a jealous husband?
- I don't know what you wanted to ask, but you don't have to worry - she said cheerfully - Pierre is a very decent man.
- Pierre.. - Andre repeated soundlessly, an expression of disgust on his face. Oscar has always won over people quickly. Be it a woman or a man, younger or older. People either loved her or hated her. She was like that. Why did this man's name seem so antipathic to him now? But he said nothing. So the rest of the way was passed in silence.
When they entered the yard, Lusien ran out to meet them happily. He pressed to Oscar's legs in an embrace and wouldn't let go.
- Auntie, here you are at last! - he laughed merrily - I'll show you my new pet! I named him Monsieur Herbe! It's big! And green!
- It's a grasshopper - Ella said, and Oscar had just noticed her presence now. The girl smiled shyly and gently nodded her head in greeting - Lusien found him in the grass in the garden.
- Where did he come from? - Oscar asked - It's November, grasshoppers should be asleep a long time ago.
- Auntie Ella said we should shelter him in the stable - Lusien replied - He won't die then. And I don't want Monsieur Herbe to die! Dad, can we hide the grasshopper in the stable?
- Sure - Andre replied.
- Then let's go, let's go! - the boy was pleased and jumped up a few times.
They found a quiet place in the stable and put a frightened grasshopper in it. Ella poured water into a small bowl and set it down next to it. The animal was exhausted, and neither woman had any doubts that it was unlikely to survive the winter, but they did not want to worry the boy.
- Thank you, Auntie - Lusien put his arms around the crouching Ella's neck and pressed his face to her cheek - You are so good!
The girl stroked his hair tenderly.
- I like looking after little creatures - she said with a disarming smile.
- Like me? - Lusien asked.
- Yes, just like you - Ella laughed again.
- Like dad? - the boy asked a trick question.
Ella cast a confused look at Oscar.
- Your dad's not all that small - she said evasively.
- And auntie Francoise also likes to look after daddy - Lusien said recklessly - She brings him dinner to the forge, you know? And dad's not mad at auntie anymore! And auntie laughs at dad's jokes! And they sit and talk sometimes. And they drink wine that smells so good, but they say I'm not allowed just yet. I would also like to try, why can't I? - the boy spat out a stream of words.
Oscar blushed at the child's words. Ella stood up slowly, looking at her in surprise. She didn't seem to know anything. After a while, however, her gaze softened. She walked over to Oscar and squeezed her arm gently in a friendly gesture.
- I'm glad you made up - the girl said and smiled pleasantly at her. Only her eyes remained sad, as if she was about to burst into tears.
Then she nodded goodbye and left the stables slowly, rustling her long skirt.
There was silence in the stable. Lusien leaned in the corner over the grasshopper and watched it. Andre's whistles was heard from behind the forge door.
And Oscar's heart pounded. Because instead of being relieved that perhaps this woman would step back into the shadows, she felt bitterness.
Someone once told her that trying to build your happiness on the misfortune of others is the greatest meanness. Yet she had promised herself long ago that she would never be immoral again. That no one will suffer from her actions anymore. That she wouldn't let her heart turn to stone again.
So did she have the right to deprive this girl of happiness? And Andre?
What does Andre really want?..
Dear readers! I'm sorry that it took so long. I needed some time to think what path the story should take. Suddenly the path I initially wanted to pursue seemed to me not quite what it should have been. I'm still wondering but I'm closer to making my decision. Thank you for your support! Joanna
