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| L'Indépendence |
Prologue
It was strangely calm in the Jarjayes' mansion. Already for a long time there were no discussions, celebrations or other events which proved her that she lived her life. Before it had been a matter of course for her to see him daily. He had been simply there. At the court, in the mansion, everywhere since her childhood.
He was gone for a long time already. She had stopped to count the weeks or months. It didn't matter. She would have never believed that he had influenced her life in such a manner at that time. And she had to admit to herself that he had been her best friend and that possibly she bore the fault to the fact that he went away.
It hadn't been long since Fersen left her after he decided to risk his own life for the war in America. She knew Fersen's reasons. She knew that he wanted to flee from the Queen. And it hurt her to learn that he didn't think about her the slightest, his confident and long time friend and what she was thinking about. It hurt her that he hadn't realized that she loved him.
But she let him go without saying goodbye to him on the day of his departure. And not much time had passed before André let her know that he would leave her as well. That day, on which she would have changed what happened if she had the power to, they returned from Versailles. Everything was the same as always. Rain was pouring down as they left the stables together to enter the mansion. But instead of taking shelter from the rain André remained standing and said loudly so that he could surpass the sound of the rushing rain: “I will go to America.”
He said it with such determination that she knew instinctively that she couldn't convince him to do the contrary. Instead she asked herself why he had made such a decision. She remembered Fersen who had left her. And now André? Why?
Immediately she had become furious. She hadn't suspected at that time that what she felt was pain rather than rage. She felt abandoned. The cold rain was hitting hard on her neck. She still hadn't asked anything. Finally she turned away from him and said “I don't understand why you want to do that!”
She didn't hear his answer. So she assumed that this meant either that she must have known the answer or that he simply didn't want to reveal his reason. His behavior hurt her very deeply. Was their friendship worth so little that he couldn't even answer this question? What crime had she committed to make the most important people turn away from her?
The answer appeared so simple, so uncomplicated, but she was too blind to realize it at that time or any other time until now. She remembered looking at him again after his mute answer and shouted “Then do what you want!”
And again he had simply not answered but looked at her with a look which could redefine the word disappointment.
Instead of stopping him, diverting him from such a thoughtless idea she had left him in the cold rain.
And she had never seen him again.
Although she was disappointed by him she left the house the night before his departure and went to the stable. There she reached for a small bag, fastened on his saddle, and let her silver chain slide into it.
She didn't know why she had given it to him instead of really bidding goodbye. Also she wasn't sure if he would ever find the chain in this small bag.
Oscar couldn't admit to herself that she gave him the chain with the hope that he would return it when they meet again, if she ever sees him again. And like so often she was still alone in the mansion that evening and had asked herself whether her former love and her best friend were still alive.
In the war.
In America.
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