Chapter 19 Chapter Eighteen

Tony has been to Paris before, but this time it's different.The "City of Light" was darkened by the German occupation.It was fortunate that it had been declared an undefended city, which spared it from being destroyed.But the common people still suffered a lot.Despite the Nazi looting of treasures from the Louvre, Tony discovers that Paris remains relatively unchanged.And, this time he will live here, become a part of the city, not a tourist.He could have lived in Kate's building on the Rue Foch, which had not been damaged during the German occupation.Instead, he rented an unfurnished apartment.Located in an old converted house behind the Avenue Montparnasse.The apartment has a living room with a fireplace, a small bedroom and a kitchenette without a refrigerator.Between the bedroom and the kitchen was a bathroom with a four foot bath, a small stained bidet and a troublesome toilet with a broken seat.

When the mistress of the house apologized, Tony stopped her, "That's nice." He spent all Saturday at the flea market.On Monday and Tuesday, he scoured the thrift stores along the Zuohe River.By Wednesday, he had almost all the furniture he needed.A sofa bed, a scarred table, two overstuffed chairs, an old, finely carved wardrobe, some lamps, a rickety kitchen table, and two ordinary chairs .Mother would freak out, Tony thought, and he could have filled the apartment with priceless curios, but then he'd be passing off as a young American painter living in Paris, which he wanted to be real.

The next step is to find a good art school.The most prestigious in France is the Paris Academy of Fine Arts.Its admissions standards are so high that few Americans are ever admitted.Tony applied to that school for admission.They may not want me, he thought, but what if they take me!He had to show his mother that he made the right choice.He sent three of his own oil paintings and had to wait a month to know if he was accepted.On the weekend of the fourth week, the concierge handed him a letter from the school informing him to report for duty next Monday. The Academy of Fine Arts is a large stone building with two floors.A dozen classrooms were packed with students.Tony reported to the principal, Instructor Gesang.He was tall, with a stern face, no neck, and the thinnest lips Tony had ever seen.

"Your painting is still very immature." He said to Tony, "but it has a promising future. The reason why our school committee chose you is more because of what you don't have in your paintings than what you have, you know ?" "I don't fully understand, mentor." "You'll understand. I've assigned you to Teacher Kantar. He'll be your advisor for the next five years—if you can last that long." I must stick to it, Tony secretly made up his mind. Mrs. Kantar was short, with no hair, and always wore a purple beret on his head.He has dark brown eyes, a huge garlic nose and sausage lips.When he saw Tony, he immediately asked: "Americans don't understand art, they are barbarians. What are you doing here?"

"Come and study, teacher." Teacher Kantar snorted. There were twenty-five students in the class, mostly French.The room was filled with easels, and Tony chose a spot by the window.Looking out of the window, a workman's tavern can be seen.The room is scattered with plaster statues of various parts of the human body, all of which are imitations of Greek statues.Tony looked around for models, but couldn't find any. "You start now—" Mr. Kantar said to the students in the class. "Excuse me," Tony said, "I—I didn't bring paint." "You don't need oil paint, just learn to sketch in the first year."

Pointing to those Greek sculptures, the teacher said, "Just follow them. If you think it's too simple, then I warn you: before the end of the year, more than half of you will be eliminated." Then his tone softened again. a little. "In the first year, you will study anatomy. In the second year, those who pass the grade will learn to paint mannequins with oil paint. In the third year, I can guarantee that there will be fewer people. You will follow me to paint, according to my rules. Style, of course, needs to be further improved. In the fourth and fifth years, you will gradually find your own style and make your own voice. Okay, let’s start now.”

The whole class gets into action. The teacher walked up and down the room, stopping at each easel to point out problems and make comments.When he came to Tony's painting, he said very rudely: "No, I can't paint like this. What I see is only the appearance of the arm. I want to see what is inside, muscles, bones, ligaments, and I want to see the blood inside. Flowing. Do you know how to draw?" "Yes, sir. I need to think, observe, feel, and then draw." ※※※ When Tony isn't in class, he usually sketches in his apartment.He can paint day and night.Drawing gave him a sense of freedom that he had never experienced before.He sat in front of the easel with a paintbrush in his hand, and he felt like a fairy.He can create the whole world with one hand.He can draw a tree, a flower, a person, a universe.What an intoxicating life it is.He's really a born painter.When he was not painting, he wandered the streets of Paris, learning about this wonderful city.It is now his city, the place where his art was born.There are actually two Parises, with the Seine dividing the city into a Left Bank and a Right Bank.These are two different worlds.The Right Bank is for the rich and successful; the Left Bank is for students, artists and those struggling to make ends meet.There is Montparnasse, the Boulevard Raspelle, the Saint-Germain, the Café Flore, Henry Miller and Elliott Paul.To Tony, this is his home.He often sat in the White Ball or the Round Pavilion Cafe, discussing their mysterious world with his classmates.

"I heard that the director of the art department of the Guggenheim Museum has come to Paris, and he buys whatever he sees." "Tell him to wait to buy my work!" They read the same magazines.Since those magazines are expensive, they are always passed around to each other.For example: "Studio", "Art Notes", "Shape and Color" and "Art Handbook", etc. Tony had studied French at the L'École, and it was easy for him to make friends with his classmates because they shared common interests.They don't know Tony's family situation and treat him as one of their own.The struggling painters met at the Café de Flore, at the Café des Deux on the Boulevard Saint-Germain, and dined at the Esse on the Rue Duckling or the bistro on the Rue de Université.Yet they never entered Russell's or Maxim's.

In 1946, some art masters painted in Paris.Tony can sometimes see Picasso.One day Tony and a friend saw Marc Chagall.He was a well-built, imposing man in his fifties, with a mop of hair just beginning to turn grey.Chagall sat at a table at the far end of the café, talking earnestly with some people. "We were lucky to see him," whispered Tony's friend. "He rarely comes to Paris. His home is in Vence. Near the Mediterranean." And Max Ernst, sitting in a street café, sipping an aperitif.The great Giacometti strolled along the Boulevard Rivoli, looking like one of his own statues: tall, lean and sinewy.Tony was startled to notice that his feet were misshapen.Tony also meets Bellmer, who is known for his quirky paintings.The girls in the painting turned into dismembered dolls.Perhaps Tony's most emotional moment came when he was introduced to Braque, an artist who was so affable that Tony was tongue-tied.

These would-be geniuses often visited the new galleries and studied the rivalry between the factions.The Drouen-David Profile is showing the work of a young, unknown painter named Bernard Buffet.He studied at the Paris Academy of Art.There are Su Dien, Utrillo and Du Fei.The students gathered in the "Salon Autumn", the Charpentier Gallery and Mademoiselle Rosa's gallery on the Rue Seine, and spent their free time talking about their successful opponents. ※※※ When Kate sees Tony's apartment for the first time, she can't help but be taken aback.She wisely made no comment.But I was thinking in my heart: Damn it!How can my son live in such a lousy little cupboard?She said aloud, "It's a nice room, Tony. But why didn't I see the refrigerator? Where do you keep your groceries?"

"On the outside window—on the sill." Kate went to the window, opened it, and picked up an apple from the outside ledge. "I'm not eating the still life you're going to paint, am I?" Tony smiled and said, "No—no, Mom." Kate took a bite of the apple. "Now," she demanded, "talk about your learning to paint." "Not--not much--to-speak," Tony admitted honestly. "We're just learning to draw--sketch this year." "Do you like this Kantar teacher?" "He's so--great. The important thing is whether he likes--likes me, because only one-third of the students will stay next year." Kate didn't mention Tony joining the company once. ※※※ Teacher Kantar doesn't like to compliment people.The best compliment Tony gets is a forced one: "I think I've seen worse than this." Or "I can almost start to see inside." At the end of the semester, Tony was one of eight students who entered the second grade.To celebrate, Tony and a few other relieved classmates went to a nightclub in Montmartre, got drunk, and hung out all night with some British girls who were visiting France. ※※※ After school started, Tony started painting models with oil paint.It's like a child being let out of kindergarten.Tony has been sketching various parts of the human body for a whole year, and he is confident that he knows every muscle, every nerve, and every gland of the human body like the back of his hand.But that wasn't painting, it was just drawing from a gourd. Now, with a paintbrush in his hand and a live model standing in front of him, Tony could start creating, and even Mr. Kantar was very impressed. Impressed. "You got the feeling," he said miserly, "now we're going to fix the technique." ※※※ There are more than a dozen models in the school for classes.The ones Mr. Kantar used most were Carlos, a young man who was going to medical school on a work-study program; Masson, a beautiful young girl, was curvaceous, fair-haired, with fine cheekbones and dark green eyes.Dominique also posed for some famous painters.Everyone liked her, and every day after class, the boys were always around her, wanting to go out with her. "I never confuse work with play," she told them. "Anyway," she joked, "it's not fair. You've all seen what I'm putting out. How do I know what you're putting out?" What will you give me?" These explicit conversations continued, but Dominique never went out with anyone at school. One evening, when the other students had left, Tony was about to finish an oil painting of Dominique, and she came up behind him unexpectedly, "My nose is too long." Tony panicked and said, "Oh, sorry, I'll change that." "No, no, the nose in the painting is fine, but my own nose is too long." Tony smiled, "If that's the case, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." "And a Frenchman would say: 'You have a nice nose, my beauty.'" "I like your nose, and I'm not French." "Obviously. You never asked me out, and I wonder why." Tony was taken aback. "I—I don't know. I think it's because everyone asks you out on dates and you never go out with anyone." Dominique said with a smile: "Everyone has someone who goes out together, good night!" she left. Tony noticed that whenever he stayed late to paint, Dominique would always come back and stand behind him after he got dressed, watching him paint. "You paint well," she remarked one afternoon. "You're going to be an important painter." "Thank you, Dominique. I hope you're right." "Painting is serious business for you, isn't it?" "yes." "Would a future important painter like to buy me a meal?" She saw the surprised expression on his face. "I don't eat much. I want to keep in shape." Tony laughed. "Of course it's no problem. It's a great honor." They had dinner together in a small restaurant near the Sacre Coeur, and they talked all the time about painters and paintings.Tony was fascinated by her telling stories about how she modeled for famous painters.As they drank coffee with milk, Dominique said, "I should tell you, you're on par with them." Tony was very happy in his heart, but he just said: "I'm still far away." After leaving the restaurant, Dominic asked, "Will you invite me to see your apartment?" "If you want. I'm afraid there's nothing to see." After they entered the house, Dominic looked around the small, untidy room, then shook his head and said, "You're right, there's really nothing to see. So who's going to take care of you?" "There's a sweeping lady who comes once a week." "Fire her, the place is so dirty. Don't you have a girlfriend?" "No." She stared at him for a moment, "You're not gay, are you?" "no." "Very well, otherwise it would be a pity. Find me a bucket and some soap." Dominique began to work in the house, she brushed, swept, and finally cleaned up the room.When she was done, she said, "It's okay now. My God, I'm going to take a shower." She went into the tiny bathroom and started filling the tub with water. "How can you sit in such a small tub?" she said loudly. "I curl my legs up." She laughed, "I want to see how to curl up." After fifteen minutes, she came out of the bathroom with only a towel around her waist.Her blond hair was damp and curled.She has a well-proportioned and beautiful figure; with plump breasts and a slender waist, her slender legs are very attractive.Tony hadn't realized she was a woman in the past.In his mind, she was nothing more than a nude model before a canvas.Oddly enough, that towel changed all that.He felt blood rushing to his lower abdomen suddenly. Dominic watched him. "Would you like to have sex with me?" "Very willing to." She slowly eased off the towel. "I want to see." ※※※ Tony had never dated a woman like Dominique.She gave him everything, but never asked him for anything.She came to cook for Tony almost every night.When they went out to dinner together, Dominique always insisted on going to cheap restaurants or fast food places. "You've got to save a little," she told him. "It's hard even for a great artist. You're great, my dear." They went to the market early in the morning; sometimes they went to the trotter restaurant for onion soup; they visited the Carnavalet Museum, and they went to remote places that tourists don't go, such as Lachaise Cemetery, where Wilde, Chopin, Balza The place where K and Proust are buried.They also visited an underground cemetery.For a week off they borrowed a boat from a friend in Dominique and had a great time sailing down the Seine. Dominique was always a joy to be with, she was so funny and made Tony happy whenever he was down.She seemed to know everyone in Paris.She took Tony to some interesting parties, where he met some of the most famous figures of his time, such as the poet Paul Éluard, and André Breton, director of the famous Margot Gallery. Dominique kept encouraging him, "You're going to outshine them all, honey. Believe me, I know that." If Tony was in the mood to paint in the evenings, Dominique would happily model for him, even though she had been working all day.God, I'm so lucky, Tony thought.It was the first time he was sure that someone fell in love with him for what he did, not because of his family.It was a feeling he cherished.Tony dared not tell Dominic that he was the heir to the largest property in the world, because he was afraid that she would change and that they would lose what they already had.But for her birthday, Tony couldn't resist buying her a Russian lynx coat. "It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen in my life!" said Dominique, twirling in it and dancing around the room.She spun and stopped suddenly. "Where did it come from? Tony, where did you get the money for this coat?" He was ready to answer her questions. "It's just been stolen. I bought it from a little man outside the Rodin Museum. He's in a hurry to sell it. It doesn't cost as much as a good cloth coat at Printemps. How much is it expensive?" Dominique stares at him for a moment, then laughs, "Even if we're in jail, I'm going to wear it!" She threw her arms around Tony and began to cry. "Oh, Tony, you fool, dear, well-meaning fool." Tony thought it was worth the lie. One night, Dominique suggests that Tony move in with her.In addition to her work at the Academy of Fine Arts, Dominique also posed for some of the more famous Parisian painters, so she was able to rent a spacious, modern apartment on Rue Saint-Severin. "You don't deserve to live in a place like this, Tony. This place sucks. Come live with me. You don't have to pay rent. I'll do your laundry and cook for you. And—" "No, Dominic, thank you." "But why?" How does he explain it?He could have made it clear from the start that he was rich, but it was too late now.She will feel that he has been playing tricks on her.So he said: "Isn't that like living by you, you have given me enough." "Then I'll quit my apartment and move in with you, and I want to be with you." She moved in the next day. There is a wonderful, natural intimacy between them.They went to the countryside together on weekends and stayed in a small hotel.There Tony set up an easel to paint the beauty of nature.When they were hungry, Dominique set out the food she had prepared, and they had a picnic on the grass together.Tony had never felt so happy. His painting progressed rapidly. One morning, Mr. Kantar held up Tony's painting and said to the whole class: "Look at this human body, you can feel it breathing." Tony couldn't wait to tell Dominic that night. "You know how I can represent a breathing human body? It's because I sleep with my arms around that mannequin every night." Dominique laughed excitedly, then became serious again. "Tony, I don't think you'll have to study for another three years. You're a master now. Everyone at school sees it that way, even Mrs. Kantar." Tony is afraid that he has not reached the point of proficiency, and he is worried that he will only be an ordinary painter in the future.Now tens of thousands of painters all over the world create countless works every day, he is afraid that his works will be submerged in this flood of paintings.Thinking of this made Tony shudder.Winning is the most important thing, Tony, remember that. Sometimes, when Tony finished a painting and his heart was filled with joy and joy, he felt talented, really talented.But sometimes, when he looked at his paintings, he thought, I am only worthy of being an amateur painter. Thanks to Dominique's encouragement, Tony became more and more confident in his work.He has painted more than 20 oil paintings alone, including landscapes, still lifes, and an oil painting of Dominique lying nude under a tree.Sunlight dapples her body with a man's jacket and shirt in the foreground.The viewer can see that the maiden is waiting for her lover. When Dominique saw Dar's painting, she exclaimed, "You must have a solo exhibition." "You're crazy, Dominique, I'm not there yet." "You're wrong, dear." The next afternoon, Tony arrived home very late.He found that Dominique was not alone in the room, but also a thin man named Anton Gorg with her.He had a big belly and a pair of protruding hazel eyes.He is the owner of Goerg Gallery.This gallery is small and located on Dauphin Street.Tony's paintings filled the room. "What's going on?" Tony asked. "That's right," Anton Goerg said loudly, "I think your paintings are excellent." He patted Tony on the back, "I would be delighted to have your work in my gallery." Very honored." Tony looked over to Dominique, who smiled cheerfully at him. "I—I really don't know what to say." "You've said it," Golger replied. "Your words are on these paintings." Tony and Dominique talked about it most of the night. "I feel like I'm not ready yet, and the critics are going to beat me to the punch." "You're wrong, my dear. It's a perfect fit for you. It's a small sketch, only locals visit and judge you. You can't be hurt. If Mr. Goerg doesn't believe You, would never agree to have a solo exhibition of your paintings there. He and I both think you're going to be a very important artist." "Well," Tony said finally, "who knows? Maybe I can sell a painting." ※※※ The message was: "Arrive in Paris on Saturday, please join me for dinner, love you, mother." When Tony saw her mother walk into the studio, his first thought was: What an elegant woman she is.She was in her fifties, her hair was undyed, black with streaks of silver.She is full of energy and vitality.When Tony once asked her why she was no longer married, she replied in a low voice: "There are only two men who have been important in my life, your father and you." Now standing in this small apartment in Paris, facing his mother, Tony said, "It's--good to see you, ma--mum." "Tony, you look really good! New beard." She smiled, stroked his beard, and said, "You kind of look like Lincoln." Her eyes scanned the small apartment. "Thank God, you've got a nice sweeping lady, it's a totally different place." Kate walked over to the easel where Tony had just been painting, and she stared for a long time while he stood tense, waiting for his mother's reaction. When Kate finally spoke, her voice was soft. "Brilliant, Tony, really terrific." She didn't hide her pride.When it comes to art, no one can fool her.Kate was overjoyed that her son was so talented. She turned and faced him, "Let me watch some more." They spent two hours together admiring all of Tony's paintings.Kate discussed each painting with him in detail.There was nothing condescending in her voice.She attempts to control his life, but fails.Even so, Tony admired her magnanimity in accepting reality. Kate said, "I can arrange an exhibition, I know some art dealers who—" "Thank you, Mom—Mom, you don't have to worry about it. Next—next Friday, I'm going to hold a painting exhibition. There's a painting——outlines for me to exhibit." Kate hugged Tony, "Great which profile?" "Go - Gore Gallery." "I don't think I've heard of it." “It’s a small—small gallery, but I’m not qualified for Hammer or We—Wildenstein.” Pointing to the painting of Dominique lying under a tree, she said, "You're wrong, Tony. I think this—" Then there was the sound of the front door opening. "I want so much, honey, take off your—" Dominic saw Kate. "Ah, damn it! I'm sorry, I—I didn't know you had a friend here, Tony." The air seemed to freeze, and the silence lasted for a long time. "Dominic, this is my mother-mother. Ma-mother, let me introduce you, this is Dominic Mason." The two women stood there, looking at each other. "Hello, Mrs. Blackwell." "I'm admiring my son's oil painting of you," Kate said, unspoken. There was another awkward silence. "Did Tony tell you? Mrs. Blackwell, he's got a show." "Yes, he did, and that's delightful news." "Could you stay--stay to see the show, mother?" "Of course I would very much like to be there, but the day after tomorrow, I'm in Johannesburg for a board meeting and I have to be there. If I had known sooner, I would have rescheduled my schedule." "That's okay—never mind," Tony said. "I understand." Tony was worried that his mother would talk about the company again in front of Dominique.Kate's thoughts, however, were entirely concentrated on painting. "It's important to have the right people come to your exhibition." "Who is the right man, Mrs. Blackwell?" Kate turned to Dominique. "The opinion-makers, the critics, the people like André Dusso should be there." André Dussault is the most famous art critic in France.He is like a ferocious lion, guarding the temple of art.A single word from him can make or break a painter overnight.Every exhibition invites Mr. Dusso to attend the opening ceremony, but he only attends some important exhibitions.Gallery owners and painters awaited his comments with trepidation.He was good at eloquence, and his witticisms flew over the city of Paris as if they had grown poisonous wings.André Dussault is the most hated in the Parisian art world, but also the most revered.His biting sarcasm and relentless commentary are accepted because he really is an expert on them. Tony turned to Dominique, "Such a mother-mother." Then to Kate, "André Dusso isn't going-to the little gallery." "Oh, Tony, he's got to come, he'll make you famous overnight." "It can destroy me too—destroy me." "Aren't you confident?" Kate asked looking at her son. "Of course he has," said Dominique, "but we dare not hope that Mr. Dursault will come." "I might find some friends who knew him." Dominic's face suddenly glowed. "That would be great!" She turned to Tony. "Honey, if he does come, do you know what that will mean?" "Into the trash?" "Be serious. I know his taste, Tony. I know what he likes, and he'll compliment your drawing." Kate said, "I'll only send him if I know you want to, Tony." "Of course he will, Mrs Blackwell." Tony took a deep breath. "I'm - scared, but what the hell! Let's - let's try." "Then I'll do my best." Kate stared at the oil painting on the easel, refusing to leave for a long time.Finally she turned and faced Tony.There was a look of sadness in her eyes. "Son, I have to leave Paris tomorrow. Shall we have dinner together tonight?" Tony replied, "Of course, Mom, we have—we have time." Kate turned to Dominic and said politely, "Would you like to go to Maxim's or—" Tony said quickly, "Dominique and I know a pretty—nice little restaurant nearby." They went to a cheap little restaurant in Victory Square.The food is delicious and the wine is fragrant.The two women seem to get along well.Tony was very proud of both of them.This is the best night of my life, he thought, with my mother and the girl I'm going to marry. Kate called from the airport the next morning. "I've called six or seven times," she said to Tony. "I haven't had a definite answer yet about André Dusso. But anyway, dear, I'm proud of you. Yours Great drawing, Tony, I love you." "I love-love you too, ma-ma." ※※※ The Gorger Gallery is only slightly larger than some private profiles that are not open to the public.Two dozen of Tony's paintings were hastily hung on the walls in final preparations for the opening.On a small marble-topped cabinet stood slices of cheese and some biscuits, as well as bottles of Chablis.The gallery is empty except for Anton Gorg, Tony, Dominique and a young female assistant who is hanging the last painting. Anton Goerg looked at his watch, "The invitation says '7 o'clock', people will be here soon." Tony didn't expect to be so nervous.I'm not nervous, he said to himself.I'm scared to death! "What if no one comes?" he asked. "I mean, what if no one comes?" Dominic smiled and patted his cheek, "Then the cheese and wine are ours to enjoy." People came in one after another.At first it was in twos and threes, but later it became more.Mr. Goerg stood at the door, greeting people graciously.They don't look like collectors of art, Tony thought gloomily.His piercing gaze divided them into three groups: some were painters or art school students who always showed up at every art exhibition to evaluate the competition.Still others were art dealers who visited art exhibitions to spread detrimental news about aspiring painters.Then there are the arty masses.Most of them are homosexuals.They always seem to live on the fringes of art.I can't sell a single painting, Tony thought to himself. Mr. Goerg waved to Tony from across the room. "I don't want to see these people," Tony whispered to Dominic. "They're here to tear me apart." "Nonsense, they're here to meet you. Show some grace, Tony." So, he was personable and greeted everyone with a big smile.He can also respond appropriately to those compliments.But are they really praising it?Tony was suspicious.Over the years, some stereotypes have been formed in the art world to deal with exhibitions of works by some unknown painters.These clichés say everything and say nothing. "It feels like being there..." "I've never seen anything like yours..." "Look, this is a real painting!" "It's talking to me..." "You've reached the top..." The audience keeps coming in.Did they come, Tony wondered, out of curiosity, or for the free booze and cheese.So far, not a single painting has been sold, while the wine and cheese are depleting rather quickly. "Be patient," Mr. Goerg said quietly to Tony. "They are very interested. First they have to admire the paintings. If they like one, they will keep coming back and looking at it. Then they They ask the price, and when they haggle, they're hooked!" "God, I feel like I'm on a fishing boat," Tony said to Dominique. Mr. Goerg came to Tony in a hurry, "We sold one." He shouted, "Landscape of Normandy, five hundred francs." It was a moment Tony would never forget.Someone bought his painting!Some people realize the value of his work, and even spend money to buy it, hang it in their home or office, appreciate it, keep it or invite friends to watch it.It's a little immortality.It can give you life, it can make you exist in different places at the same time.A successful painter lives in every corner of the world, in thousands of homes, in countless offices and in museums, bringing joy to millions—sometimes millions—of people.Tony felt as if he had stepped into the great halls of Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Rembrandt.He was no longer an amateur painter, he was a professional painter, and someone paid for his work. Dominique walked briskly towards him, her eyes sparkling. "You've sold another painting, Tony." "Which one?" he asked hastily. "The flower." The small gallery was packed with spectators.People were talking loudly.From time to time, there was the clinking of glasses.Suddenly the room fell silent.Someone whispered, and all eyes moved towards the entrance. André Dusso walked in.他有五十多岁，比一般的法国人要高一些，有着坚毅的狮子般的面孔和一头鬃毛般的白发。他穿着一件光亮平滑的斗篷，戴着一顶博萨利诺式的帽子。在他的身后跟着一批围观的人。房间里的观众都开始自动地为杜索先生让路，因为在场的没有一个不认识他。 多米尼克捏了一下托尼的手，“他来了！”她说道，“他真来这儿了！” 这样的荣誉戈尔格先生从未享受过，因而他有点不知所措。他在这位伟人面前点头哈腰，不停地把前额的头发向后捋去。 “杜索先生，”他喋喋不休地说着，“这真是令人太高兴了！多么荣幸啊！我可以为您倒点酒、拿些奶酪吗？”他直怪自己没有买像样点儿的酒。 “谢谢。”那大人物回答道，“我来只是为了一饱眼福。我想见见这位画家。” 托尼完全吓呆了。多米尼克把他向前推过去。 “他在这儿。”戈尔格先生说道，“安德烈·杜索先生，这是托尼·布莱克韦尔。” 托尼终于说出声来：“您好，先生，我——谢谢您能光临。” 安德烈·杜索微微点点头，便向墙上的油画走过去。人们都向后退去，给他让道。他慢慢地走着，每一幅画都要端详好久，认真仔细地看过，才走向下一幅。托尼想从他脸上的表情来作些猜测，但什么也看不出来。杜索既不皱眉头，也不微笑。有一幅画，他在前面停留了许久，那是多米尼克的裸体画。之后他又向前移去。托尼在一边出了一身汗。 当安德烈·杜索看完之后，便朝托尼走过去。“我很高兴来到这里。”他只说了这一句。 就在这位著名的批评家离去之后的几分钟之内，所有的画被销售一空。一位新的大艺术家诞生了，每个人都希望在他诞生之时能够在场。 “这样的场面，我从未见过。”戈尔格先生惊呼道，“安德烈·杜索到我的画廊里来，我的画廓！明天全巴黎的人都会读到这条消息。'我很高兴来到这里。'安德烈·杜索是从不多说一句话的。这需要来点香槟酒，让我们庆祝庆祝。” 那天深夜，托尼和多米尼克又私自庆祝了一番。多米尼克依偎在他的怀里。“过去我同别的画家也睡过觉，”她说道，“但只有一个具有你即将要获得的名气。明天巴黎所有的人都会知道你的名字。” 多米尼克的话是正确的。 ※※※ 第二天清晨5点，托尼和多米尼克急急忙忙穿好衣服，便出去买第一版晨报。报纸才刚刚来到报亭，托尼抓了一张，赶忙翻到艺术栏。他的评论是头条文章，署名是安德烈·杜索。托尼大声念道： 托尼的脸色顿时变得死灰一般。 “请不要念了。”多米尼克恳求道，她想把报纸从托尼的手中夺走。 “放开！”他命令道。 他又继续念了下去。 “最初我以为是谁开了一个玩笑。我无法相信，有人竟会想到把这样幼稚的画挂出来，还敢称它们是艺术品。我竭力寻找任何一丝微弱的才华，可是根本没有。应当吊起来的不是那些画，倒是那位画家。我认真地奉劝这位糊涂的布莱克韦尔先生，回到他真正的行业中去，我只能猜想他是个刷刷房子的油漆匠。” “我简直无法相信。”多米尼克低语道，“我不相信他竟然会看不出来。哼，这个坏蛋！”多米尼克伤心地哭了起来。 托尼觉得胸中好像堵满了铅块，喘不过气来。“他看出来了。”他说道，“而且他知道，多米尼克，他知道。”他的声音里充满着痛苦。“所以才如此刺痛我的心。上帝啊！我是多么傻啊！”他开始向前走去。 “你上哪儿去，托尼？” "I have no idea." 他沿着黎明时分冰冷的街道向前走去，泪流满面也全然不知。再过几个小时，巴黎的每一个人都会读完那篇评论，他将是大家讽刺的对象。但更使他伤心的是他自己欺骗了自己。他真的认为能把绘画作为自己的终身职业。如今安德烈·杜索至少是把他从那个错误中挽救了出来。流传后世，托尼忧郁地想道，流传个屁！他走进了第一家开门的洒吧，一直喝到烂醉。 ※※※ 当托尼最后回到他的公寓时，已是第二天早晨5点了。多米尼克正在等着他，都快急疯了。“你去哪儿了，托尼？你妈妈一直想找你，她都快急病了。” “你把报纸读给她听了吗？” “读了，她坚持要读的。我——” 电话铃响了，多米尼克看了看托尼，然后拿起了听筒。“喂？是的，布莱克韦尔太太。他刚进来。”她把话筒递给托尼，他犹豫了一下，然后拿起了它。 “喂，妈——妈妈。” 凯特的声音里充满了哀痛。“托尼，亲爱的，听我说，我可以让他登一篇更正。我——” “妈，”托尼无力地说道，“这不是一桩买——买卖。这是一个批——批评家在发表观点，他的观点是我应当被吊——吊死。” “亲爱的，我真不愿让你受到这么大的伤害。我实在受不了——”她啜泣起来，无法再讲下去。 “没关系，妈——妈妈，我已经折腾一阵了。我尝试了一下，结果不——不行，我没有这方面的才——才能，事情就这么简单。我痛——痛恨杜索的狂妄，可是他是世界上最优——优秀的艺术批评家。我不得不承——承认他这一点。他把我从一个可——可怕的错误中挽救出来。” “托尼，但愿我能说些什么来安慰你……” “杜索已经都——都说了，这样总比十——十年后才发——发现要好——好些，对吧？我得离——离开这座城市了。” “等着我，亲爱的。明天我就离开约翰内斯堡，我们一道回纽约去。” “那好吧。”托尼说道。他放下听筒，转向多米尼克。“对不起，多米尼克，你找错人了。” 多米尼克什么也没说，她只是望着他，眼里充满了难言的悲伤。 第二天下午，在马提农街克鲁格－布伦特公司的办公室里，凯特·布莱克韦尔正在开一张支票。坐在她对面的一个男人叹气道：“真可惜，你的儿子是有才华的，布莱克韦尔太太。他完全可以成为一个有名的画家。” 凯特冷冷地瞪了他一眼。“杜索先生，全世界有成千上万个画家，我的儿子不能与他们为伍。” 她把那张支票递往桌子对面，“你为这笔交易履行了你的义务，我也会尽我的义务。克鲁格－布伦特有限公司将要在约翰内斯堡、伦敦和纽约兴办美术馆，由你来负责挑选作品——当然啰，佣金是相当可观的。” 在杜索离去之后很久很久，凯特依然坐在她的桌旁，心中充满着深深的哀伤。她很爱自己的儿子。要是他发现了这一切……她知道她是在冒着什么样的风险，但无论如何她不能站在一边，眼睁睁看着托尼白白扔掉自己可以继承的家业。不管她可能会付出什么代价，她也要保护他，保护公司。凯特站起来，突然觉得非常疲倦。该去接托尼，带他回家了。她要帮助他度过目前的困境，这样他才可以继续从事他天生该做的工作。 管理这家大公司。