cwilleford.theburntorangeheresy-第8节

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　　〃Not　quite。　How　did　he　get　into　the　States　without　reporters　finding　out？〃
　　〃No　problem。　Paris　to　Madrid；　Madrid　to　Puerto　Rico；　through　the　customs　at　San　Juan；　then　on　to　Miami…and　he　came　in　on　a　student　visa。　J。　Debierue。　Who's　going　to　suspect　a　man　in　his　nineties　on　a　student　visa？　And　Debierue　is　a　mon　enough　name　in　France。　There　are　about　sixty　flights　a　day　from　the　Caribbean　ing　into　Miami　International　on　Sundays。　It's　the　busiest　airport　in　the　world。〃
　　I　nodded。　〃And　the　ugliest；　too。　So　he's　been　right　here　in　Florida　for　eight　months？〃
　　〃Not　exactly。　The　negotiations　started　eight　months　ago；　and　it　took　some　time　to　set　everything　up。　The　funny　thing　is；　the　old　man　will　actually　be　a　student。　I　mentioned　my　connections　at　the　University　of　Chicago…well；　starting　in　September；　Debierue　will　be　taking　twelve　hours　of　college　credit；　by　correspondence；　from　Chicago。〃
　　〃What's　his　major？〃
　　〃Cost　accounting　and　management。　I've　got　a　young　man　working　for　me　who　can　whip　through　those　correspondence　courses　with　his　left　hand；　and　he'll　probably　get　the　old　man　an　A　average。　On　a　student　visa；　you　see；　you　have　to　carry　twelve　hours　a　semester　to　stay　in　the　country。　As　long　as　you're　making　good　grades　with　the　college；　you　can　stay　as　long　as　you　like。〃
　　〃I　know。　But　why　me？　Why　don't　you　steal　a　picture　from　Debierue？〃
　　〃He'd　know　it　was　me；　that's　why。　After　I　got　him　settied；　he　told　me　he　didn't　want　me　to　visit　him。　For　the　sake　of　secrecy。　I　went　down　a　couple　of　times　anyway　and　pestered　him　for　a　painting。　He　got　good　and　angry　the　last　time；　and　his　studio　is　kept　padlocked。　I　want　one　of　his　paintings。　I　don't　care　what　it　is；　or　whether　anyone　knows　that　I　have　one。　I'll　know；　and　that's　enough。　For　now。　Of　course；　if　you　manage　to　get　a　successful　interview…and　that's　your　problem…and　you　write　about　his　new　work…he　hasn't　got　too　many　years　to　live…then　I　can　bring　my　painting　out　and　show　it。　Can't　I？〃
　　〃I　understand。　You'll　have　pulled　off　the　collector's　coup　of　this　decade…but　what　happens　to　me？〃
　　〃You'll　stand　still　for　it；　no　matter　what　happens。　I've　checked　you　out；　I　told　you。　You're　ambitious；　and　you'll　be　the　first；　as　well　as　the　only；　American　critic　to　have　an　exclusive　interview　with　the　great　Jacques　Debierue。　After　you　steal　one　of　his　pictures；　he　sure　as　hell　won't　talk　to　anyone　else。〃
　　〃What　time　is　it　set　up　for；　and　when？〃
　　〃It　isn't。　That's　up　to　you。〃　He　wrote　the　address　on　the　yellow　pad；　and　sketched　in　State　Road　Seven　and　the　branch　road　leading　into　it　from　Boynton　Beach。　〃If　you　happen　to　drive　past　the　turnoff；　and　you　might　miss　Debierue's　road　because　it's　dirt　and　you　can't　see　the　house　from　the　highway；　you'll　know　you　missed　it　when　you　spot　the　drive…in　movie　about　a　half　mile　farther　on。　Turn　around　and　go　back。〃
　　〃Does　he　know　I'm　ing？〃
　　〃No。　That's　your　problem？〃
　　〃Why　did　he　decide　to　e　to　Florida？〃
　　〃Ask　him。　You're　the　writer。〃
　　〃He　might　slam　the　door　in　my　face；　then？〃
　　〃Who　knows。　We　made　a　deal；　that's　all；　and　we　shook　hands　on　it。　I　know　my　business；　and　you　should　know　yours。　Any　more　questions？〃
　　〃Not　for　you。〃
　　〃Good。〃　He　got　to　his　feet；　an　abrupt　signal　that　the　discussion　was　finished。　〃When　are　you　driving　down？〃
　　〃That's　my　business。〃　I　grinned；　and　stuck　out　my　hand。
　　We　shook　hands　again；　and　Cassidy　asked　kindly　if　he　could　telephone　for　a　taxi。　Sending　me　home　in　a　cab　at　my　own　expense　was　his　method　of　〃seeing　that　I　got　home　all　right。〃
　　I　declined；　and　rode　down　in　the　elevator。　To　clear　my　head；　I　preferred　to　walk　the　few　blocks　to　my　apartment。　As　I　walked　the　quiet　streets　through　the　warm　soft　night；　a　Palm　Beach　police　car；　staying　a　discreet　block　behind；　trailed　me　home。　I　wasn't　suspected　of　anything。　The　cops　were　merely　making　certain　that　I　would　get　home　all　right。　Palm　Beach　is　probably；　together　with　Hobe　Sound；　the　best…protected　city　in　the　United　States。
　　Now　that　I　was　alone；　I　was　so　filled　with　excitement　I　could　hardly　think　straight。　Dada；　first；　and　Surrealism；　second；　were　my　favorite　periods　in　art　history。　And　because　of　my　interest　in　these　movements　when　I　had　been　in　Paris；　I　knew　the　Paris　art　scene　of　the　twenties　better；　in　many　respects；　than　most　of　the　people　who　had　participated　in　it。　And　Debierue…Jacques　Debierue！　Debierue　was　the　key　figure；　the　symbol　of　the　dividing　line；　if　a　line　could　be　delineated；　in　the　split　between　Dada　and　Surrealism！　In　my　exhilarated　state；　I　knew　I　wouldn't　be　able　to　sleep。　I　was　going　to　put　on　a　pot　of　coffee　and　jot　down　notes　on　Debierue　from　memory　in　preparation　for　the　interview。　Tomorrow；　I　thought；　tomorrow！
　　I　turned　the　key　in　the　door　and　opened　it　to　unexpected　light。　The　soft　light　streamed　in　from　the　bathroom。　Silhouetted　in　the　bathroom　doorway；　wearing　a　gray…blue　shorty　nightgown；　was　my　tawny…maned　schoolteacher。　Her　long；　swordlike　legs　trembled　at　the　knees。
　　〃I…I　came　back；　James；〃　Berenice　said　tearfully。
　　I　nodded；　dumbly；　and　lifted　my　arms　so　she　could　rush　into　them。　After　she　calms　down；　I　thought；　I'll　have　her　make　the　coffee。　Berenice　makes　much　better　coffee　than　I　do　。　。　。
　　
　　
　　5
　　
　　Debierue　is　a　difficult　artist　to　explain；　I　explained　to　Berenice　over　coffee：
　　〃No　pido　nunca　a　nadie　is　a　good　summary　of　the　code　Debierue's　lived　by　all　his　life。　Translated；　it　means；　'I　never　ask　nobody　for　nothing：
　　〃I　think　that's　the　first　time　I've　ever　heard　you　talk　in　Spanish；　James。〃
　　〃And　it　might　be　the　last。　It　didn't　take　me　long　to　quit　speaking　Spanish　after　we　moved　to　New　York　from　San　Juan。　And　as　soon　as　I　wised　up　to　how　they　felt　about　Puerto　Ricans；　I　got　rid　of　my　Spanish　accent；　too。　But　the　Spanish　No　pido　nunca　a　nadie　sounds　better　because　the　reiterated　double　negatives　don't　cancel　each　other　out　as　they　do　in　English。　And　that's　the　story　of　Debierue's　life；　one　double　negative　action　after　another　until；　by　not　trying　to　impress　anybody；　he　ended　up　by　impressing　everybody。〃
　　〃But　why　did　you　give　up　speaking　Spanish？〃
　　〃To　prove　to　myself；　I　suppose；　that　a　Puerto　Rican's　not　only　as　good　as　anybody　else；　he's　a　damned　sight　better。　Besides；　that's　what　my　father　would've　done。〃
　　〃But　your　father's　dead；　you　told　me…〃
　　〃That's　right。　He　died　when　I　was　twelve；　but　technically　I　never　had　a　father。　He　and　my　mother　separated　before　I　was　a　year　old；　you　see。　They　didn't　get　divorced　because　they　were　Catholics；　although　my　mother　made　semi…official　arrangements　with　the　church　for　them　to　live　apart。　There　was　no　money　problem。　He　supported　us　until　he　died；　and　then　we　came　up　to　New　York；　Mother　and　I；　with　the　insurance　and　the　money　from　the　sale　of　our　house　in　San　Juan。〃
　　〃But　you　saw　him　once　in　a　while；　didn't　you？〃
　　〃No。　Never。　Not　after　their　separation…except　in　photographs；　of　course。　That's　what　made　things　so　tough　for　me；　Berenice。　What　I've　had　instead　is　an　imaginary　father；　a　father　I've　had　to　make　up　myself；　and　he's　what　you　might　call　un　hombre　duro…a　hard　man。〃
　　〃What　you　mean；　James；　you've　deliberately　made　things　hard　on　yourself。〃
　　〃It　isn't　that　simple。　A　boy　who　doesn't　have　a　father　around　doesn't　develop　a　superego；　and　if　you　don't　get　a　superego　naturally　you've　got　to　invent　one…〃
　　〃That's　sffly。　Superego　is　only　a　jargon　word　for　'conscience；'　and　everybody's　got　a　conscience。〃
　　〃Have　it　your　way；　Berenice；　although　Fromm　and　Rollo　May　wouldn't　agree　with　you。〃
　　〃But　you've　got　a　conscience。〃
　　〃Right。　At　least　I've　got　one　intellectually；　if　not　emotionally；　because　I　was　smart　enough　to　create　an　imaginary　father'
　　〃Sometimes　I　don't　understand　you；　James。〃
　　〃That's　because　you're　like　the　little　old　lady　in　Hemingway's　Death　in　the　Afternoon。〃
　　〃I've　never　read　it。　That's　his　book　on　bullfighting；　isn't　it？〃
　　〃No。　It's　a　book　about　Hemingway。　By　talking　about　bullfighting　he　tells　us　about　himself。　You　can　learn　a　lot　about　bullfighting　in　Death　in　the　Afternoon；　but　what　you　learn　about　life　and　death　is　a　matter　of　Hemingway。〃
　　〃And　the　little　old　lady。　。　。　？〃
　　〃The　little　old　lady　in　Death　in　the　Afternoon　kept　asking　irrelevant　questions。　As　a　consequence；　she　didn't　learn　much　about　bullfighting　or　Ernest　Hemingway　and　toward　the　end　of　the　book　Hemingway　has　to　get　rid　of　her。〃
　　〃I'm　not　a　little　old　lady。　I'm　a　young　woman　and　I　can　learn。　And　if　I　want　to　understand　you　better；　I　should　listen　to　what　you　have　to　say　about　art　because　it's　a　matter　of　life　and　death　to　you。〃
　　〃You　might　put　it　that　way。〃
　　〃I　am　putting　it　that　way。〃
　　〃Would　you　like　to　hear　about　Jacques　Debierue？〃
　　〃I'd　love　to　hear　about　Jacques　Debierue！〃
　　〃In　that　case；　I'll　begin　without　the　overall　frame　of　reference　and　fill　in　the　necessary　background　as　I　e　to　it。　I　said；　I'll　begin　without　the…I　see；　you　don't　have　any　relevant　questions　and　you've　decided　to　remain　silent　until　you　do？　Fine。　You'll　understand　my　exhilaration　about　my　opportunity　to　meet　Jacques　Debierue；　then；　when　I　tell　you　that　I've　read　all；　as　far　as　I　know；　that's　been　written　about　him。　The　scope