CHAPTER 27 - Time to say goodbye
Vadim Kiselev - Rainy Night, Goodbye
When did I feel this love? I do not know. I cannot indicate this moment in my past. When I think about it, I always see how he gently strokes our son's hair and hums him a lullaby to sleep. This image will stay with me to the end.
But maybe this love had started earlier. Perhaps on that dark, moonless night, when I lay on the forest grass, my body torn in torsion and my soul torn in two. Or even earlier, when he was comforting me, holding me tenderly even though he knew my heart belonged to someone else.
Every thing he did. Every word. Every look. Now I remember everything. It's as if all the pieces of this puzzle suddenly came together. His feelings. My feelings. Our bond stronger than pain, resentment, separation.
But that doesn't matter anymore. I can't turn back time. I can't change what I did wrong. I am also too weak to oppose the forces that want to separate us. So sometimes I think it's better to give in than to keep resisting. As long as my surrender gives them security and freedom, it is worth doing. As the last sacrifice.
I used to think that he couldn't forgive me for what I did to him in the past. I was afraid that maybe we both really have hearts of stone. But now I know that it is not so. We were just trying to protect those we love the most. And not to lose our souls on the way.
Now I have to protect them one last time. My life for their life.
I'm sorry, my son. Forgive me for abandoning you when you were born. Forgive me for abandoning you now. I'd rather you hate me, forget me than put your life on the line. I wish I could watch you grow up, see who you will become. However, I leave you in good hands. The people around you are loving and caring, I don't need to worry.
Forgive me, Andre. Forgive me for not telling you how much I love you.
...
Oscar has never liked rain. In their childhood, the sound of drops pounding on the glass was a signal that they would spend the day in the tangle of dark corridors again, rather than playing in the grass and chasing among the trees. Then the rain interrupted their training in the garden or shortened their horse trips. Even later, it was a harbinger of the most sleepy and boring days at Versailles, when people wandered aimlessly around the richly decorated halls, plotting intrigues, whispering behind the curtains, and the soldiers yawning while standing on watch.
But now Oscar was thankful for the rain. Heavy drops began to fall halfway to Chauvigny and hid her tear-stained face. Nobody would know that she was sobbing desperately all the way, almost out of breath. The heart in her chest was shattered into thousands of pieces, like a crystal once shattered by her father. There was no more hope. There was no chance of salvation anymore. Of the future.
As she stood in front of Pierre's house, the water was dripping from her hair and clothes, as if she had just bathed in the icy Seine. As she tied her horse in the only dry spot, under the little balcony in the yard, she noticed that her hands were shaking, as if in delirium. She didn't know if it was because of the cold ruthlessly penetrating her bones or because of the rising rage. She stood under the balcony for a moment and pulled a pistol from under her saddle. She checked that it was dry and loaded, then wrapped it back in the cloth and put it in the pocket of her dress. After a while she was climbing the creaking stairs to the very top of the building.
She knocked on the ornate wooden door frame leading to Pierre's apartment, and then once more, more vigorously. There was a yellow flash of a candle in the crack under the door, so the boy must have been home. After a while the door groaned slightly and his head appeared, surrounded by slightly tousled hair. Pierre must have taken a nap, because his eyesight was a little blurry and his eyes were red. When he saw Oscar standing on the doorstep of his house, his expression changed abruptly. He looked like he saw a ghost.
- Can I go in? - Oscar asked dryly, without even greeting him.
The boy nodded and let her pass, then closed the door securely. Oscar walked confidently into the living room, leaving a path of drops falling from her clothes and hair behind her.
- Wait! - Pierre shouted, but it was too late.
Oscar strode into the room and stood in front of the table now in the center. A dozen or so sketches were arranged in neat rows on the table top. All the drawings showed herself at different points in her military career: riding a horse during a parade, during a military inspection, with the queen on a walk in the Versailles garden, bowing down to the king with a saber in her hand. At the bottom of each sketch was her name and date. She remembered all those days as if it were yesterday. She stood looking at the drawings for a moment without saying a word, then turned away, ready to confrontation. Pierre was leaning heavily against the wall, his hands hanging limply, and he stared at her with eyes that Oscar would have sworn were only sad.
- You shouldn't have come here - he said after a long pause.
- So you already know? - Oscar said, ignoring his words.
The boy nodded.
- How did you guess? - she asked, at the same time reaching into her pocket to feel the wooden handle of the pistol under her fingers. The presence of the gun reassured her.
- Not immediately - Pierre did not take his eyes off her face - First I saw the child and I felt that something was wrong.. that.. that you were hiding something.. Lusien..
- Lusien is my son, yes - Oscar replied, seeing no reason to hide the truth. It didn't matter anymore.
Pierre's face twisted in pain. As if, despite all his suspicions and all the evidence, he was not prepared for these words.
- And Monsieur Andre.. - he said quietly, looking at a table full of drawings.
Oscar turned and found among the sketches the one Pierre must have been thinking about. She took the drawing gently in her fingers and stared at the scene, which was painstakingly reproduced on paper. There was a square in front of the Versailles entrance, with the soldiers of the Royal Guard lined up in neat rows. In the foreground, she in a shimmering carmine uniform, her hair and Caesar's mane are blown by the wind. Just behind her, clearly visible, Andre on his chocolate horse. His hair, tied in a navy blue bow, also dances with the gusts of wind.
It always had to be like that, Oscar thought. He, always in the shade, but close, ready for my every call. With a warm smile and a gentle look. Unnoticed..
- Andre Grandier was my orderly - Oscar whispered, and the hand holding the paper trembled slightly - It's.. a long story.
- You should take off that wet coat - Pierre said gently, seeing how much she was shaking. - I'll give you something to dry, and I have some dry clothes as well. I'll make something warm to eat. And then - he took two steps forward - then why don't you tell me everything?
Before he could take the next step, Oscar swiftly pulled the pistol out of her pocket and pointed it straight at his chest.
- Stay away - she hissed warningly.
- Francoise.. - the surprised boy whispered, though suddenly he felt how false the name was. He stared into her stern face and realized that this was indeed the face of Oscar Francois de Jarjayes, the woman who had been the commander of the Royal Guard in the past.
- Lusien is my son - repeated Oscar with a voice hard as steel - He is my most precious treasure, my love. And you put his life in danger. What am I going to do with you now?
Pierre's eyes widened in surprise.
- I don't understand..
- How did you get to my father? - Oscar ignored his surprise.
The boy stepped back and leaned back against the wall. His whole body now expressed the resignation of a man who, staring into the barrel of a pistol, waits for his own end.
- I don't know what you're talking about - he said quietly - I didn't tell anyone. I don't know anything about your father either.
- You're lying - Oscar hissed again, this time feeling anger starting to bubble in her veins. - You are one of the few people who know the truth. And only you had a reason to expose it.
- Because I'm the son of a man you threw in prison so that he could rot like the worst criminal there? - Pierre replied, sarcasm echoing in his voice. But his eyes remained sad, there was not even a hint of hate in them.
Oscar's grip tightened on the pistol hilt.
- I was a soldier. I was just following orders.
- I know - Pierre nodded, his face suddenly softening. - I've known that for a long time and I don't blame you.
- What? - Oscar wasn't sure if she heard it right. She regarded the boy suspiciously. - What the hell are you..
- My father always said that - Pierre looked at her seriously now - He said we shouldn't blame a knife for injuring us. He never blamed you for what happened then. He always said that you were the only kind person he met during the entire experience. He was sure it was you who got him out of jail. It was also exactly what the soldiers said when they threw him onto the pavement near the Bastille. That he owed his life to your good heart. Tell me, how could I want to hurt you? - the boy's eyes moistened - Please put that gun away now, okay?
- Why should I believe you? - Oscar muttered, still holding her gun.
- Because I am telling the truth, Francoise.. Oscar - corrected Pierre - My father destroyed all the drawings that showed anything or anyone related to the monarchy. Except for those here - he pointed to the table - He left only the ones where you are. He hid them, but never had the heart to throw them away.
- Your father was your father, and you are you - Oscar gasped - Do you want me to belive that you wouldn't want to take revenge for the fact that I deprived you of your mother and father?
- No, I never wanted to take revenge - the boy sighed and stepped closer to her, so that the barrel of the gun now rested against his chest - Perhaps the life that you have led so far has taught you that most people are evil. That they're just waiting to stab you in the back as soon as you turn around. I imagine how hard it must have been for you.
- You don't know anything about me - she snapped.
- You are a good person, Oscar - continued Pierre, still staring at her face intensively - You are righteous and honorable. You won't kill me because you feel I'm innocent. You know it well, am I right?
Oscar was silent as she felt a rush of thoughts in her head.
- Oh, damn it - she muttered suddenly. She lowered the gun, then put it in her pocket. She turned and rested her hands on the table, her fingers gripping the edge of the tabletop tightly.
If Pierre wasn't the one who betrayed me.. then who could it be? - she thought fevereshly.
Suddenly she felt Pierre's fingers on her back and jumped up violently.
- Sorry, I scared you again - he said gently, untying her coat. - I think you should take it off and try to warm yourself. Otherwise you'll catch a cold.
- I do not have time for it. I should be on my way by now.
Without a word, Pierre walked over to the dresser and pulled out a thick sheet and blanket. He returned and threw the blanket over her shoulders, then began to gently wipe her hair.
- Where are you going?
- To Paris - Oscar replied with a sigh. - I have to see my father. Deal with it once and for all.
- What happened? - Pierre wrapped her hair in a cloth, which was quickly soaked with water.
- I got a letter from him. It was delivered to Angles, so someone must have known I was there. I thought that..
- You thought I found your father in Paris to lead him on your trail. How did you even know I knew?
- A hunch - Oscar turned and looked him straight in the face. - But I'm glad that I was wrong about some things.
The boy nodded and smiled.
- So who could have done it? - Oscar thought again - Only a few people know the truth. Bernard? No it is not possible! - she laughed to herself.
Pierre walked over to the window and began rummaging for something.
- Bernard? Who is he? - he asked, his head under the windowsill.
Oscar, preoccupied with her own thoughts, didn't answer.
- There it is! - the boy rejoiced, taking a small, dusty bottle from the hiding place - I kept it for a special occasion, and then I forgot about it completely. I got this rum last year from a northern merchant. He said there is nothing better to warm up! They are the only ones they serve to cold wanderers in roadside hav.. - suddenly the boy broke off, with his hand holding the bottle hanging in the air. - Shit - he swore softly under his breath.
- What's now? - Oscar was scared. The boy's face turned white like the cloth he'd been using to wipe her hair with.
Pierre didn't say a word, just pulled out two glasses and poured them a ruby-honey-colored alcohol that smelled fantastic. He walked over to Oscar and handed her a glass.
- Try it, it will warm you up - he said, then drank his own portion to the bottom.
Oscar looked at him suspiciously, then tried a little. The alcohol was tasty but very strong, and for a moment she felt her throat burn. But then it pleasantly warmed her insides. Pierre was right. She took another sip.
- Sit down for a moment, okay - the boy gestured to her chair, and she obediently sat down. She felt a strange certainty that she could trust this man.
Pierre pulled up a chair and sat in front of her.
- Do you remember when I came to you to Angles without an invitation? You were cleaning the yard then. And then I met your.. your son - Pierre continued bravely - Lusien is the perfect copy of his father. But.. but he has your eyes. Identical. You know that, right? - Oscar nodded in confirmation - Perhaps someone else would not notice, but the painter will never miss such details. And then.. Then I knew that the child was yours. And it made me.. devastated.. - he laughed bitterly.
- What are you getting at? - Oscar was impatient. Suddenly, sitting there under a blanket, a glass of rum in her hand, and listening to Pierre's story seemed like a waste of time. She should be far, as far as possible, just in case...
Just in case Andre decided to look for me.. - crossed her mind.
- Wait, wait, I'm getting to the point - the boy reassured her - Well then I went to the inn. The one on the side of Poitier. I sat down there and ordered wine, lots of wine. I wanted to get drunk in peace.. It was still early, but two men was arguing inside the inn. They were already a bit tipsy and tried to accost the staff and insult the innkeeper. They complained that.. that Chauvigny is a lame pit and Angles is Satan's den. They screamed about - forgive my vocabulary - that blonde bitch who shot them. I remember there was shots at Angles back then. It was.. you who shot them, right?
Oscar sat like frozen and listened to Pierre's words with growing concern. The men she hurt back then. Could it be they who took this information to her father? But how was this even possible?
- Did they say anything about Paris? - she asked in a hollow voice.
- Yes, yes! - Pierre grew livelier. - They were wondering if they would reach Paris in one piece! Francoise.. You think it's them?
- I can't believe any of my friends would want to hurt us. I feel that you are being honest too - Oscar squeezed his hand gently, and the boy jumped in surprise. - Thank you for telling me this. I'm trying to find out something along the way. If that's what you say, these two must have traveled to Paris on the exact same route.
She gulped down the rum left in the glass and set the glass down on the table. She slipped the blanket off her shoulders and handed it to the boy.
- Thank you for looking after me. But now I have to go. The rain had almost stopped falling.
Pierre looked at her doubtfully, for the sound of raindrops hitting the shutters and the roof above their head was even louder than before.
- Wait for the weather to be better - he pleaded.
- It's high time - she said, ignoring his request. She turned and walked briskly towards the exit.
He caught up with her almost at the door.
- What was in that letter, Francoise? What are you going to do? - he handed her his coat, a little too big for her, but at least dry.
- I'll do what I have to do - she replied without meeting his eyes.
- But then come back soon, okay? - Pierre said with childish naivety. - When you come back, you will tell me the whole story. Francoise?.. - he placed his hand lightly on her shoulder, as if to make sure she heard - One more thing. I know.. I know I can't ask for your heart. But we can be friends because I care a lot.. I care about you..
Oscar raised her head and stared into his sincere face.
- Thank you - she said.
- What for? - Pierre asked, confused.
- For absolution - she replied, feeling tears gathering under her eyelids - Take care of yourself, okay? - she added, smiling gently, because suddenly she felt a surge of tenderness towards this beautiful, honest boy - And maybe you should give Alice a chance. She is a nice and hardworking girl. And she likes you very much.
Pierre's intense blue eyes widened in silent shock. Before he could say anything, however, Oscar leaned closer and kissed him gently on the lips. His lips were hot and tasted like recently drunk rum. The boy sighed softly, surprised by this unexpected contact, but before he could move, Oscar backed away, then ran out.
She ran downstairs and then into the yard. She clung to the wall under the balcony, where Caesar waited for her, hiding behind a curtain of rain and darkness. After a while, she heard the door slam open and footsteps on a cobblestone street.
- Francoise! - Pierre shouted into the depths of the street, lit only by the dim light of the candles from the windows – Francoise! - he screamed even louder - Damn it! - Oscar heard the boy pounding his fist furiously against the wooden gate, then the hinges creaked and he was gone.
Oscar breathed a sigh of relief. However, she had to hurry, because Pierre would probably get dressed and in a moment he was going to look for Andre. She was almost sure of it. She took the pistol out of her pocket and slipped it back into the saddle compartment. She straightened her coat. She sighed, because she knew that the further journey in the pouring rain would not be pleasant.
It was time to say goodbye to the adorable Chavigny. It was time to say goodbye to the quiet little Angles in which she had the best months of her life. As she thought about the inhabitants of the little house she was leaving forever, she felt excruciating pain in her heart. She remembered the warmth of Lusien's little hands hugging her head. His sweet voice. She remembered the tears in Grandma Marie's eyes. Only with Andre.. Only with him she didn't say goodbye..
She hung her head for a moment as grief wrapped around her soul like a rush of a wild rose bush. She had to stop thinking or she wouldn't be able to go away.
She put her foot in the stirrup.
- Where are you going? - suddenly she heard a familiar voice right in front of her.
Oscar froze in dismay.
