cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第14部分

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　His　smile　was　so　sweet；　so　sincere；　so　insinuating　that　my　heart　twisted　with　sudden　pain。　It　was　a　smile　to　shatter　the　world。　His　ageruined　mouth；　purple　lips　and　all；　was　beautiful　when　he　smiled。　Several　teeth　were　missing；　both　uppers　and　lowers；　and　those　that　remained　gave　a　jack…o'…lantern　effect　to　his　generous　mouth。　But　the　swift　transformation　from　mournful　resignation　to　rejuvenated；　unrestrained　happiness　changed　his　entire　appearance。　The　grooved　down…pointing　lines　in　his　face　were　twisted　into　swirling；　upswept　arabesques。　He　rose　stiffly　from　his　chair　as　I　approached；　and　shook　a　long　forefinger　at　me　in　mock　reproach。
　　〃Ah；　M。　Figueras！　You　have　shaved　your　beard。　You　must　grow　it　back　quickly！〃
　　His　greeting　me　by　name　that　way　brought　sudden　moisture　to　my　eyes。　He　pumped　my　hand；　the　single　up…anddown　European　handshake。　His　long　spatulate　fingers　were　warm　and　dry。
　　〃You…you　know　me？〃　I　said；　in　unfeigned　astonishment。
　　He　treated　me　to　the　first　in　a　series　of　bona　fide　Gallic　shrugs。　〃You；　or　another…〃　he　said　mysteriously；　〃and　it　is　well　that　it　is　you。　I　am　familiar　with　your　work；　naturally；　M。　Figueras。〃
　　I　gulped　like　a　tongue…tied　teen…ager；　abashed；　not　knowing　what　to　say；　and　then　noticed　that　he　was　looking　past　my　shoulder　toward　Berenice。
　　〃Oh！〃　I　said；　running　around　the　car；　and　helping　Berenice　out　the　door。　〃This　is　my　friend；　M。　Debierue；　Mlle　Hollis'
　　Berenice　glared　at　me　when　I　pronounced　her　name　〃Holee；〃　and　said；　〃Hollis；　Mr。　Debierue；〃　in　English；　〃Berenice　Hollis。　And　it's　a　pleasure　to　meet　you；　sir。'；
　　Debierue　kissed　her　hand；　and　I　thought　（I　was　probably　oversensitive）　he　was　a　little　uneasy；　or　put　off　by　her　presence。　He　didn't　know…and　there　was　no　unawkward　way　for　me　to　enlighten　him…whether　she　was　truly　just　a　friend；　my　mistress；　my　secretary；　or　a　well…heeled　art　patron。　I　decided　to　say　nothing　more。　He　would　be　able　to　tell　for　himself　by　the　way　she　looked　at　me　and　touched　my　arm　from　time　to　time　that　we　were　on　intimate　terms。　It　was　best　to　let　it　go　at　that。
　　The　old　man's　English　was　adequate；　despite　a　heavy　accent；　and　as　we　talked　in　French；　that　beautiful　late　April　afternoon；　he　or　I　occasionally　translated　or　made　some　ment　to　Berenice　in　English。
　　〃I'm　one　of　those　obscure　journalists　who　presume　to　criticize　art；〃　I　said　modestly；　with　a　nervous　smile；　but　he　stopped　me　by　raising　a　hand。
　　〃Non；　no；　no〃…he　shook　his　head…〃not　obscure；　M。　Figueras。　I　know　your　work　well。　The　article　you　wrote　on　the　California　painter　。。。？〃　He　frowned。
　　〃Vint？　Ray　Vint；　you　mean？〃
　　〃Yes；　that's　the　name。　The　little　fly。　That　was　so　droll。〃　He　chuckled　reflectively。　〃Do　not　feel　guilty；　M。　Figueras。〃　He　shrugged。　〃The　true　artist　cannot　hide　forever；　and　if　not　you；　another　would　e。　Now；　e！　e　inside！　I　will　give　you　cold　orange　juice；　fresh　frozen　Minute　Maid。〃
　　I　was　flattered　that　he　knew　my　work　as　well　as　my　name；　or　at　least　one　article…I　checked　myself…written　in　English；　at　that；　and　not　to　my　knowledge　translated　into　French。　But　why　did　he　mention　this　particular　article　on　Vint？　Ray　Vint　was　an　abstract　painter　whose　paintings　sold　sparsely…for　a　dozen　good　reasons　I　won't　go　into　here。　Vint　was　an　excellent　craftsman；　however；　and　could　get　all　the　portrait　work　he　desired…more；　in　fact；　than　he　wanted　to　paint。　He　needed　the　money　he　made　from　portraits　to　be　able　to　work　on　the　abstracts　he　preferred　to　paint。　But　because　he　hated　to　do　portraits；　he　also　hated　the　people　who　sat　for　them　and　provided　him　with　large　sums　for　flattering　likenesses。　He　got　〃revenge〃　on　the　sitters　by　painting　a　fly　on　them。
　　In　medieval　painting；　and　well　into　the　Renaissance；　a　fly　was　painted　on　Jesus　Christ's　crucified　body：　the　fly　on　Jesus'　body　was　a　symbol　of　redemption；　because　a　fly　represented　sin　and　Jesus　was　without　sin。　A　fly　painted　on　the　person　of　a　layman；　however；　signified　sin　without　redemption；　or　translated　into　〃This　person　is　going　to　Hell！〃　Ray　Vint　painted　a　trompe…l'oeil　fly　on　every　portrait。
　　Sometimes　his　patrons　didn't　notice　the　fly　for　several　days；　and　when　they　did　they　were　unaware　of　its　significance。　They　were　usually　delighted　when　they　discovered　it。　The　fly　became　a　conversational　gambit　when　they　showed　the　portrait　to　their　friends：　〃Notice　anything　unusual　there　about　my　portrait？〃
　　Artists；　of　course；　when　they　saw　the　fly；　laughed　inwardly；　but　said　nothing　to　the　patrons　about　the　meaning　of　the　Vintian　trademark。　I　had　hesitated　about　whether　to　mention　Vint's　symbolic　revenge　when　I　wrote　about　him；　not　wanting　to　jeopardize　his　livelihood。　But　I　had　decided；　in　the　end；　to　bring　the　matter　up　because　it　was　a　facet　of　Vint's　personality　that　said　something　implicit　about　the　emotionless　nature　of　his　abstracts。
　　As　I　guided　Berenice　into　the　house　in　Debierue's　wake；　holding　her　left　elbow；　I　became　apprehensive　about　the　old　painter's　offhand　remark　and　dry；　brief　chuckle。　A　chuckle；　unlike　a　sudden　smile　or　a　sincere　burst　of　laughter；　is　difficult　to　interpret。　Whether　a　chuckle　is　friendly　or　unfriendly；　it　merely　serves　as　a　nervous　form　of　punctuation。　But　to　mention　one　particular　incident；　or　paragraph；　out　of　the　thousands　I　had　written；　and　the　〃fly〃　symbol　at　that；　caused　the　knot　of　anxiety　in　the　pit　of　my　stomach　to　throb。　The　fact　that　he　had　read　my　piece　on　Vint　（not　a　hack　job；　because　I　don't　write　hack　pieces；　but　it　certainly　wasn't　one　of　my　best　articles…Vint's　work　simply　hadn't　been　good　enough　for　a　serious　in…depth　treatment）　could　be　a　hindrance　to　me。
　　No　one　knew；　because　Debierue　had　never　mented；　what　the　old　man　had　thought　about　Gait's　article；　with　its　fanciful　〃Chironesque〃　interpretations；　but　writers　with　reputations　much　greater　than　mine　had　been　turned　down　subsequently　when　they　had　asked　the　painter　for　interviews。　After　the　Gait　article；　Debierue　had　every　right　to　distrust　critics。
　　Damn　Galt；　anyway；　I　thought　bitterly。　Then　I　saw　the　gilded　baroque　frame　on　the　wall　and　pointed　to　it。
　　〃That　isn't　the　famous　No。　One；　is　it？〃
　　Debierue　pursed　his　lips；　and　shrugged。　〃It　was；〃　he　answered　lightly；　and　entered　the　kitchen。
　　The　moment　I　examined　the　picture　I　knew　what　he　meant；　of　course。　There　was　no　crack　on　the　wall　behind　the　mount。　The　frame；　without　the　crack；　and　not　hanging　in　its　original　environment；　was　no　longer　the　fabled　No。　One。　My　exultation　was　great　nevertheless。　It　was　something　I　had　never　expected　to　see　in　my　lifetime。　Berenice；　after　a　quick　glance　at　the　empty　frame；　seated　herself　in　a　Sears…Danish　chair　and　asked　me　for　a　cigarette。
　　I　shook　my　head　impatiently。　〃Not　till　we　ask　permission；〃　I　told　her。
　　There　was　a　narrow　bar…counter　built　into　the　wall。　It　separated　the　kitchen　from　the　living　room。　There　was　no　dining　room；　and　the　living　room　was　furnished　Spartanly。　The　chicken　farmer…tenant　who　had　built　the　house　had　probably　intended；　like　many　Floridians；　to　use　the　large　screened　porch　as　a　dining　area。　There　was　a　square；　confirming　pass…through　window　from　the　kitchen　to　the　porch。
　　There　were　no　other　pictures　on　the　walls；　and　the　living　room　was　furnished　cheaply　and　austerely　with　Sears　furniture。　Mr。　Cassidy　had　certainly　spared　expense　in　furnishing　the　house　for　the　famous　visitor。　There　wasn't　a　hi…fi　stereo；　a　radio；　or　television　set；　and　there　were　no　drapes　to　mask　the　severe　horizontal　lines　of　the　Venetian　blinds　covering　the　windows。　Except　for　two　Danish　chairs；　a　Marfak…topped　coffee　table；　a　black　Naugahyde　twoseater　couch；　and　one　floor　lamp…all　grouped　in　a　tight　oblong…the　huge　living　room；　with　its　carpetless　terrazzo　floor；　was　bare。　A　Miami　Herald　and　a　superslick　copy　of　Réalitès　were　on　the　coffee　table。　There　were　two　tall　black　wrought…iron　barstools　at　the　counter。　Debierue　either　had　to　have　his　meals　at　this　bar…counter　or　take　his　food　out　to　the　porch　and　eat　on　a　Samsonite　card　table。
　　Mr。　Cassidy　would　not；　I　knew；　tip　Debierue　off　that　I　was　ing；　but　if　the　old　painter　asked　me　how　I　had　found　him；　what　could　I　say？　He　didn't　appear　surprised　by　my　sudden　appearance。　If　he　asked；　I　would　say　that　my　editor　had　told　me　and　that　he　sent　me　down　on　an　assignment。　These　thoughts　nagged　at　my　mind　as　Debierue　prepared　the　frozen　orange　juice。　He　placed　an　aluminum　pitcher　on　the　table；　opened　the　frozen　can　with　an　electric　can　opener；　and　then　made　three　trips　to　the　sink　to　fifi　the　empty　can　with　tap　water。
　　He　worked　methodically；　with　great　concentration；　adding　each　canful　of　water　to　the　pitcher　like　a　chemist　preparing　an　experiment。　With　a　long…handled　spoon　he　stirred　the　mixture；　smiled；　and　beckoned　for　us　to　e　and　sit　at　the　bar。　Berenice　and　I　climbed　onto　the　stools；　and　he　filled　three　plastic　glasses　to　their　brims。
　　Without　touching　his　glass　he　looked　beyond　me　to　No。　One　on　the　wall。　〃This　is　the　new　world；　M。　Figueras；　and　there　are　no　cracks　in　the　wall　of　the　new　world。　Here　the　concrete；　brick；　and　stucco　walls　are　hurricane…proof。　My　insurance　policy　guarantees　this。〃
　　This　might　be　a　good　opening　or　closing　sentence　for　my　article；　I　thought。　I　leaned　forward；　prepared　to　explore　his　thinking　on　the　〃new　world〃　in　more　detail；　but　he　shook　his　head　as　a　signal　for　me　to　remain　silent。
　　〃I　will　not　suggest　to　you　that　only　M。　Cassidy　could　have　directed　you　here；　M。　Figueras。　It　is　unimportant　now　that　you　are　here；　and　we　are　both　aware　that　M。　Cassidy　is；　like　all　collectors；　a　most　peculiar　man。〃
　　Grateful　for　the　easy　out；　I　asked　for　permission　to　smoke。　Debierue　took　a　saucer　from　the　cabinet；　set　it　between　us；　and　waited　until　I　lighted　Berenice's　cigarette　and　mine　before　he　continued。　He　refused　a　cigarette　by　waving　his　hand。
　　〃What　can　I　say　to　you；　M。　Figueras；　that　would　dissuade　you　from　writing　about　me　for　your　magazine？〃
　　〃Nothing；　I'm　afraid。　You　make　me　feel　like　a　plete　bastard；　but…〃
　　〃I'm　sorry　for　your　feelings。　But　as　a　favor　to　me；　do　you　have　so　much　zeal　that　you　must　tell　my　address　in　your　magazine？　Much　privacy　is　needed　for　my　work；　as　it　is　for　all　artists。　Every　day　I　must　work　for　at　least　four　hours；　and　to　have　frequent　in