Hope

The day turned to night and night turned to day. Sun, moon and stars alternated.

It took weeks for Oscar to fully recover. Time and rest gave her body the strength to take up the fight against tuberculosis. It also gave her a lot of time to dwell on her past and future lifes. By storming the Bastille she had revolted against the royal family, her class and even her own father. She had told him in a letter that he was to let her lead a woman's life – which basically contradicted everything she had promised him a long time ago; that she wanted to live all her life as a man. She changed her mind when she learned to love André. The memories of André certainly affected almost her entire existence. She saw him before her whenever she closed her eyes. Ever since she could remember, he had been with her. Up to this day she could not forgive herself for never having noticed or suspected his affection for her. There had remained so little time...

'Instead, I put my heart at count von Fersen's feet, who was only capable of loving the queen', she thought bitterly. She had been so stupid.

Basically, she had known for a lot longer that she was in love with André, but was too proud to confess it. This had not just been stupid, but dangerous as well. Then the events took overhand. The riots in Paris had grown steadily and this had prompted Oscar to finally wake up.

Did she even want to live without André now? No! What prevented her from following André in death? She didn't have an aswer for that.

Slowly she walked down the narrow streets of Paris, accompanied by the smell of blood and death. She just couldn't stay put in the small apartment any longer and couln't bear to be tied to the bed. Oscar got a headache. She looked at the broken windows of the once bustling bakery shops. Many houses had been abandoned for fear of soldiers coming back to this place. The great majority of the buildings was almost completely destroyed, as she was nearing the Bastille. She dodged into side streets to make sure she wasn't being observed or followed. There was a fair number of people who were eager to avenge the death of their families on nobles. In fact, she had sided with the citizens, but who would care to ask her when they would have finally gotten a noble in their hands? She was wearing dark pants and a white shirt with a long raincoat on top. Not at all her former uniform.

She went over to one of the taverns. The bar was void of any signs of life. A few rats were scurrying past broken tables and chairs. They had met here once with Bernard, Rosalie's husband, to prepare for the release of her soldiers from the Bastille.

As she turned the corner, she came to the wide road that led directly to the Bastille. Oscar left the small streets behind and gazed at the results of the revolution with horror.

The old prison had been divested. Almost the entire top layer had been destroyed by bombings so that the single cells could now be seen from the street. Oscar climbed over the protecting palisades erected by the citizen of Paris. The smell of burnt wood registered in her mind as she finally stood at the foot of the Bastille. Oscar closed her eyes. It was July 14th again, and she could hear the screaming of the crowd, the shots and the cracking blows of the cannons. She opened her eyes again. A flock of birds rose majestically into the cloudless sky.

As she continued on her path, she discovered the numerous large indentations in the paving stones from the cannons of her own troops. Along the wooden bridge, the transition from the street to the prison, she entered the Bastille. She stepped through the old gate and had to climb large piles of rock, which broke from the masonry during the attack. The once daunting compound was devastated and destroyed. The people had even begun removing bricks for their own use. Oscar went along a narrow corridor. Everything around her was so damaged that you would think you're going through walls. Candlesticks lay broken on the ground. The sad skeleton of a staircase jutted in her direction. Down the hall Oscar finally reached an ascent which seemed somewhat passable to her.

She came back here to inspect the officer's chamber, hoping to find some documents and commands that had possibly survived the attack. On the top floor she found a door that was not locked with bars. When she turned the knob though, the door stayed closed. Oscar tried again, but remained unsuccessful. She stepped back a few steps to try and kick at the door with her foot, which luckily gave way immediately. It would have done her no good otherwise. With a loud crash it fell inside. Through one of the broken windows, she could see the roofs of the surrounding houses. Paris lay at her feet.

A table with several drawers stood in the room. Again she tried to find a way through the debris. When she opened the drawers, she discovered several letters. Most of them were meaningless. They contained minor orders like the timing for the next change of guards. However, among the many documents Oscar also found a sheet of paper with the royal seal.

To the Commander of the Bastille,

it is hereby announced that the twelve soldiers, who had opposed His Majesty's command, be executed on the basis of the conclusion by the Military Council, without any consultation or hearing in court whatsoever, on the Bastille courtyard the following morning.

Supreme General of the Royal Guards

This letter clearly stated the punishment of her former soldiers. Twelve soldiers under Oscars guidance had been arrested then, as they had opposed the Royal Guards, who were to resolve the National Assembly of the Estates-General. From the nobility's point of view, it had been a justified measure, seeing as the soldiers had disobeyed orders. But the people had their own opinion. The National Assembly was an opportunity for the bourgeoisie to defend their rights after all. Ultimately, the twelve men had almost been arrested and executed without hearing in court. But because the Royal Family feared the angered mobs, that marched to the Bastille to demand the release of the soldiers, they were liberated.

Oscar looked out the window and watched a white dove rise into the sky. She was instantly reminded of André. A voice, a wording, a place, a small event, and the memory of André found its way back into her thoughts. André had loved watching the pigeons. Sometimes he sat in the gardens for hours to watch the birds flying, or feeding them.

Oscar was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard voices on the corridor outside coming closer.

"Did you hear that?"

Oscar heard the words loud and clear. It was a deep male voice, and it seemed that it had addressed someone who probably just nodded his head, as there was no answer.

"It came from the officer's chamber!" Said the same voice and Oscar heard footsteps approaching the room hesitantly again.

It must be only two people, but Oscar didn't have any more time to dwell on it. She quickly tried to find a hiding place, as she was unarmed and still injured and too weak to defend herself.

The strangers had almost reached the room. Oscar fled into the adjoining room, hid behind the door and prepared for a possible attack.

The men were already in the officer's chamber now.

"So, no one here it seems. Check the next room!", the first voice ordered again. Oscar looked through the clearance between door frame and door leaf into the officer's chamber.

The man she saw was of powerful build and had shoulder-length blond hair. His face was narrow and angular, and he wore a long black cloak – either for camouflage or protection from dirt and grime. Although all these external aspects made him appear strong, his face seemed almost of childlike nature, somewhat boyish.

"Oh, damn!" He suddenly cried. Oscar awoke from her trance and saw that the stranger had hit his foot.

"We're here for the second time now! What does Robespierre hope to find here anyway?" Outraged, he hopped around on one foot.

Suddenly the second man, whose face Oscar had not seen yet, went past her field of vision and walked into the next room. Oscar winced as she realized she was but an arm's length away from touching the stranger, had it not been for the door seperating them. Her breathing quickened and she was waiting to be discovered. But the stranger did not get further into the room. He was about to leave the supposedly empty space again, but was halted by his comrade.

"Grand! Did you see someone?"

The addressed noticed a shadow through the gap between the door and wall, who had moved slightly. He walked even closer and at the same moment Oscar rose her eyes to his face.

She was falling. Everything around Oscar turned black and she was swallowed by its depths. When she looked into those green eyes, the world stood still. She knew those eyes. Oscar would recognize them among thousands.

Grand also froze and stared at his opponent. Oscar knew that it was him. With every fiber of her being she knew it. Silently she breathed his name, and he awoke from his stupor. His eyes now reflected infinite love, but only for one short second, then he looked away and left the room.

Oscar wanted to run, she had the feeling that she already did, but couldn't move one bit. She did not see how Grand disappeared from the officer's chamber and the other man replied annoyed: "Where are you going? We are not done yet." And trailed after him.

It didn't matter to Oscar if she was found. The only thing she could think about were those eyes. Feigning strength at first and then transforming into those that Oscar had known and loved for so long. Oscar was not breathing. She broke out in tears on the floor and cried. She prayed that it had not been a dream.

Oscar couldn't remember how she came back to Bernard and Rosalie. When she woke from her reverie, it was already dusk. Bernard sat on a chair beside her. He seemed to be seriously worried. He knew that Oscar had been at the Bastille, but she hadn't spoken a single word ever since.

Her eyelids twitching, she finally seemed to wake up from her daydream.

"Oscar", he asked gently, "Oscar...? I'm Bernard." She seemed so vulnerable and far away that it was frightening Bernard.

"You work for Robespierre, if I remember right, do you not?" Her question came so sudden that Bernard forgot all his suspicions and now wondered about her inquiry.

"Yes. That hasn't changed yet. Oscar... What's the matter?"

"You have always been a good friend to me... Why didn't you tell me that André is still alive? Why are you doing this to me?" Oscar looked into the eyes of her counterpart, but could only see confusion in them.

"What are you talking about? Should I call a doctor?" Bernard was about to put his hand to her forehead, but Oscar pushed it surly aside.

"Today, when I was in the Bastille, I encountered two men." Her hands began to tremble. She was still afraid to wake up from a daydream.

"Bernard, I've... I've seen André today. He was accompanied by another man, who had called him 'Grand' constantly. I swear it by my soul."

"Oscar, I'm sorry to tell you this, but André is dead–" She interrupted him energetically. "No. That's not true, I've seen him."

"Do you want to believe that so much? I understand that you're mourning for him."

"He was just a step away from me! I had been hiding from the two, because I understood they wouldn't want to be recognized. André however found me... And now tell me, if it wasn't him, why hadn't he killed me then? He stood directly in front of me. It can't be a mistake, Bernard."

Oscar seemed to be certain of what she'd experienced, of that Bernard was sure.

She was down-to-earth and acted wisely. But they were talking about André here. Seeing the great loss Oscar had suffered from André's death, Bernard was not absolutely sure whether her judgment was now impaired by it.

"You said that you would work for Robespierre," she reminded him again. Hope flickered in her eyes. She was asking him if he happened to recall any abnormality in his work with him.

"You know that I am a close confidant of Robespierre. Surely he would have told me of any supporters," he said as he stood up and walked over to the window.

"Just think about it, Bernard! What if they're not officially Robespierre's men? Maybe they are recruited spies, whom he has not reported to you because he's pursuing his own personal plans?"

She stepped to his side. Oscar had to succeed in convincing Bernard. He lowered his head. Was she right? He had to admit that the Head of the Jacobins had deviated from his original plans lately. He exhaled loudly and made a decision.

"What can I do?"

"Convince Robespierre to let me work for him!"

"No, you can't be serious! He will recognize you and expose me as a traitor because I let the nobility into his house, whom he had been fighting for years."

"You think I'd bring you in danger? Robespierre will not recognize me. I will wear women's clothes. Though the idea itself seems absurd to me." Oscar had her plan already drawn up precisely. Bernard studied Oscar and tried to imagine how she would look in women's clothing. These thoughts made him smile inevitably. The fearless Oscar in dresses?

"Why are you smiling?"

"Are you certain that you want to take such a risk?"

"Yes, I just need to know if it really was André I had seen earlier today. I promise you I won't request any more from you. But for now I need your help, so Robespierre will trust and accept me. Please Bernard!" Oscar knew that Bernard would make this sacrifice for her and André and for this she was eternally thankful.

"He would be unpredictable when he discovered your true identity. You must be aware of this!" When Bernard looked into her blue eyes, he could almost catch a glimpse of her soul, which demanded certainty about André. He believed in her.

"I'll introduce you to him as soon as possible. Let's hope he won't suspect anything", Bernard finished their plotting conversation, not in the least bit certain of whether he was acting correctly or not.