Chapter 43 Chapter Forty-Three

The artist comes to Amitrano's studio every Tuesday and Friday morning to comment on the students' work.In France, the income of painters is very small. The way out is to do portraits for others and try to get the protection of some wealthy Americans. Even some famous painters are willing to take two or three hours a week to take part-time lessons in a studio that recruits painting students. Earn some extra money, anyway, there are many such studios in Paris.On Tuesday, Michel Rolland came to Amitrano to teach.He was an elderly painter with a gray beard and a good complexion.He made many decorative paintings for the government, which are now the butt of ridicule among his pupils.He is a disciple of Ingres, and he is not used to the new trend of art. He gets angry when he hears the names of Manet, Degas, Monet and Sisley tas de farceurs.However, he is a rare good teacher: gentle and polite, tireless and good at guiding.As for Foinet, who patrolled the studio on Friday, he was quite a difficult character to deal with.The man was thin and wizened, with decayed teeth, a choleric countenance, a shaggy gray beard, fierce eyes, and a shrill, sarcastic tongue.In his early years, several of his works were bought by the Luxembourg Museum of Fine Arts, so at the age of twenty-five, he was full of ambition and looked forward to one day being able to stand alone in the painting world.It is a pity that his artistic talent is only a burst of youthful vitality, not deeply rooted in his personality.For twenty years he did nothing but reproduce some of the landscapes that made him famous in his early years.When he was accused of the sameness of his work, he retorted:

"Corot only painted one thing in his life, why can't I?" He is jealous of the success of others, and he hates those Impressionist painters even more, and is incompatible with them.He blamed his failure on the madness of fashion, and the fashion-conscious public—the Sale bete—was drawn to the pieces.For the Impressionist painters, Michel Rolland was kind enough to call them "charlatans", but Foinet cursed them repeatedly, and crapule and canaille are the most elegant words.He took pleasure in belittling their private lives, calling them illegitimate children, attacking them for incest, and doing all he could to insult and insult them, with a tinge of sarcasm.To spice up the harsh sarcasm, he also invokes Oriental metaphors and Oriental emphatic force.Even when examining the students' work, he made no secret of his disdain.The students hated and feared him; the female students often cried because they could not stand his merciless taunts, and they were inevitably ridiculed by him.Although the students were protested by his scolding, he still taught in the studio, because he was undoubtedly the leading art teacher in Paris.Sometimes, the host of the school, that is, the old model, ventured to persuade him a few words, but in front of this tyrannical and violent painter, the words of persuasion turned into humbly apologies in an instant.

It was the Foinet painter who first met Philippe.The master was already in the studio when Philip came into it.He went from easel to easel, accompanied by Mrs. Cuoette, the school treasurer, who acted as interpreter for those who did not know French.Fanny Price, sitting next to Philip, drew fawningly.Her face was blue because of her nervousness; she put down her paintbrush from time to time and rubbed her hands on her blouse, so that her palms were sweating with anxiety.She turned to Philip suddenly anxiously, her brows furrowed, as if trying to hide her anxiety. "Does it look okay to you?" she asked, nodding at her own drawing.

Philip stood up and leaned over to look at her picture.It's okay not to look at it, but I was surprised when I saw it.Could it be that she is blind?The picture is completely out of shape, almost out of human shape. "I'd be fine if I was half as good as you," he said insincerely. "No way, you've only just come here. Isn't it a bit of a fantasy for you to try to catch up with me now. I've been here for two years." Philip was taken aback by Fanny Price's words.Her self-importance was astonishing.Philip had noticed that she was kept at a respectful distance from everyone in the studio, which did not seem surprising, for she seemed to be particularly fond of hurtful words.

"I sued Foinet before Mrs. Otter," she went on. "He hasn't even looked at my painting for nearly two weeks. He spends about half an hour with Mrs. Otter every time, and it's not because she's the treasurer here. Anyway, the tuition I paid It's not a penny less than others, and I don't think my money is necessarily lacking in limbs. I don't understand why I'm the only one left alone." She picked up the charcoal pencil again, but after a while, she put it down again, with a groan from her mouth. "I can't draw anymore, and I feel so nervous."

She looked at Foinet, who was coming towards them with Mrs. Otter.Mrs. Otter was docile, mediocre, and somewhat smug in her self-satisfaction.Foinet sat down at the easel of an English girl named Ruth Chalice.She was short in stature and disheveled, with a pair of delicate black eyes, tired but sometimes enthusiastic; her thin face was cold and sensual, and her complexion was like aged ivory--this kind of charm was exactly what it was at that time. Deliberately cultivated by some Chelsea girls who were deeply influenced by Booin-Jones.Foinet seemed to be in a good mood today. He didn't say much to her, but just picked up her charcoal pencil, drew a few strokes casually, and pointed out where her failures were.Miss Chalice beamed with joy when he rose.Light.Foine walked up to Clutton, and Philip became a little nervous at this time, but luckily Ottoda.Tai promised that he would take care of his order if something happened.Foinet stood for a moment in front of Clutton's study, silently biting his thumb, and then absently spit out a small piece of bast on the canvas.

"That's a nice line," he said at last, nodding his thumb at the stroke of success he admired. "You seem to be a bit popular." Clutton didn't say a word, just stared at the painter, still with the mocking look of not paying attention to the words of the world. "I'll start now, you are at least somewhat talented." Mrs. Otter, who had never liked Clutton, pursed her lips at this.She couldn't see anything special about it.Foinet sat down and explained the painting techniques in detail.Mrs. Otter stood aside, a little impatient.Clutton said nothing, but nodded now and then; Foinet was satisfied that Clutton understood what he said, and saw the truth in it.Although most of the people present were listening attentively, they obviously didn't hear anything.Then Foinet stood up and walked towards Philip.

"He has only been here for two days," explained Mrs. Otter hastily, "and is a novice. He has never learned to draw before." "Case voit," said the painter, "you can see it without saying it." As he walked on, Mrs. Otter said to him in a low voice: "This is the girl I told you about." He stared at her as if she were a hideous beast, and his voice became harsher. "It seems that you think I have treated you badly. You are always complaining in front of the treasurer. Don't you want me to care about this masterpiece of yours? Well, let me open my eyes with it now."

Fanny Price was flushed, and the blood seemed to be a strange purple color under her sickly skin.She didn't make any distinctions, but just pointed at the painting in front of her. This painting, she has been painting since Zhou - until now.Foinet sat down. "Well, what do you want me to say to you? To compliment you and say it's a good painting? No way. To compliment you and say it's a good painting? No way. To say this There is always some merit in the painting, right? It is useless. You want me to point out what is wrong with your painting? They are all wrong. Want me to tell you what to do with it? Just tear it up. You should be satisfied now, right?"

Miss Price paled.She was furious that he had humiliated her like this in Mrs. Otter's presence.Although she had stayed in France for a long time, she could understand French perfectly, but she couldn't utter a few words when asked to speak by herself. "He has no right to treat me like this. The tuition fee I pay is no less than others, and I pay the tuition fee for him to teach me. But now look at him, where is he teaching me!" "What did she say? What did she say?" asked Foinet. Mrs. Otter faltered, not daring to translate it to him.Miss Price herself repeated in broken French:

"Je vons paye pour mapprendre." The painter's eyes flashed with anger, he raised his voice and shook his fist. "Maia, nom de Dieu, I can't teach you. It's easier to teach a camel than to teach you." He turned to Mrs. Otter. "I'm going to earn my living like a painter," replied Miss Price. "Then it is my duty to tell you: you are wasting your time. It does not matter that you lack talent, there are few people who are truly gifted nowadays; How long has it been here? Five-year-olds are better at drawing than you are now after taking two lessons. I just want to advise you to give up this meaningless attempt as soon as possible. If you want to make a living, I am afraid that you will be a bonne a tout fatre Safer than being a painter. Look!" He casually grabbed a stick of charcoal and wanted to draw on the paper, but the stick broke because of too much force.He cursed, and then drew a few strokes with his severed head letter, the strokes were vigorous and powerful.He moves neatly, talks while drawing, and scolds while speaking. "Look, the two arms are not the same length. And the knee here, what a weird drawing. As I said just now, a five-year-old child is stronger than you. Look, how do these two legs make her stand?" Hold on! Look at this foot again!" Every time he uttered a word, the charcoal pencil of fury left a mark on the paper, and in a blink of an eye, the picture that Fanny Price had painstakingly drawn for days was completely unrecognizable by him. It's a mess of streaks and spots.Finally he threw the charcoal and stood up. "Miss, take my advice and learn some tailoring skills." He looked at his watch. "It's twelve o'clock. A la semaine prochaine, messieurs." Miss Price gathered the painting materials slowly.Philip deliberately lagged behind the others, trying to comfort her with a few words.He searched his brains, and only came up with this sentence: "Oh, I'm so sorry. How rude this man is!" Unexpectedly, she got angry at him viciously. "You're here to tell me this? I'll beg you when I need your mercy. Now please get out of my way." She walked past him and left the studio.Philip shrugged and limped off to lunch at Grevia's. "She deserves it!" said Lawson, after Philip had told him what had just happened. "You stinky bitch." Lawson was so afraid of being criticized that whenever Foinet came to teach in the studio, he always avoided it. "I don't want people to judge my work," he said. "Whether it's good or bad, I know it in my own mind." "You mean you don't want people to say that your work isn't very good," Clutton added grimly. In the afternoon, Philip wanted to go to the Luxembourg Museum of Art to see the paintings there.As he was passing through the park he caught a glimpse of Fanny Price sitting in her usual place.Out of good intentions, he wanted to comfort her, but he didn't expect her to be so unreasonable. Thinking of it, he felt very depressed, so he just pretended not to see her when he walked by her this time.But she stood up immediately and walked towards him. "You want to leave me alone, don't you?" "It's all right, I thought maybe you didn't want to be bothered?" "where did you go?" "I'd like to see that famous painting by Manet, I've heard people talk about it a lot." "Shall I accompany you? I know the Luxembourg Museum well enough to show you a fine work or two." It could be seen that she didn't want to apologize to him straightforwardly, but wanted to make up for her mistakes. "Then I'll help you. That's exactly what I'm asking for." "If you want to go alone, you don't have to force it, just say so," she said dubiously. "I really want someone to go with me." They walked towards the art gallery.Recently, Cabot's private collection of paintings was on public display there, and for the first time, painters had the opportunity to enjoy the works of the Impressionists to their heart's content.Previously, it was only in the painting shop of Lafitte Rue Durand-Ruel (this businessman, unlike his British counterparts who think they are superior to painters, is always willing to provide convenience to poor students, what they want to see just let them see), or in his private apartment, he was lucky enough to see these works.His apartment is open to the public every Tuesday, and admission tickets are not difficult to get, where you can see many world famous paintings.After entering the gallery, Miss Price led Philip straight to Manet's "Olanbia".He looked at the oil painting and was dumbfounded. "Do you like it?" asked Miss Price. "I can't tell," he replied blankly. "You can take my word for it, it's probably the best painting in the museum, apart from maybe Whistler's portrait." She waited patiently, letting him ponder the beauty of this masterpiece, and after a while she showed him an oil painting depicting a train station. "Look, here's a Monet too," she said, "of the Gare Saint-Lazare." "Why aren't the railroad tracks parallel in the picture?" Philip said. "What does it matter?" She asked back, with a look of arrogance on her face. Philip was ashamed of himself, and Fanny Price picked up the topic that was currently being discussed in the painting world, and with her profound knowledge in this field, she immediately convinced Philip.She began to explain the famous paintings in the art gallery to Philip. Although her tone was arrogant, she was not without insight.She told him about the creative opportunities of various painters, and pointed out where he should start to explore.She gestured with her thumbs from time to time as she spoke.All that she said was new to Philip, and he listened with interest and a little bewilderment.Before that, he had always admired Watts and Booin-Jones. The brilliant colors of the former and the neat carvings of the latter completely catered to his aesthetics.The hazy idealism in their works, as well as the philosophical meaning contained in the propositions of their works, are consistent with the function of art that he realized when he was immersed in Ruskin's works.However, at this moment, what I see before my eyes is completely different: the works lack moral appeal, and viewing these works will not help people pursue a purer and nobler life.He was bewildered. At last he said, "You know, I'm exhausted and I can't keep my head on. Let's find a bench and sit down." "Anyway, art is a thing, you have to take your time, you can chew too much," Miss Price replied. When they came outside the art gallery, Philip thanked her for her enthusiasm for accompanying him to visit. "Oh, it's nothing," she said carelessly, "if you like, we'll go to the Louvre tomorrow, and we'll show you to Durand-Ruel's in a few days." "You've been so nice to me." "You're not like those people, they don't treat me like a human being at all." "Really?" he laughed. "They thought they could get me out of the studio, no way. I stayed there as long as I liked. It wasn't Lucy Otter's fault what happened this morning! Yes, she's always had a grudge against me." In my heart, I thought that I would go away obediently. I dare say, she would like me to go away. She has a ghost in her heart, and I know her details clearly." Miss Price made a lot of detours, all she meant was to say, don't look at Mrs. Otter, a diminutive woman who looks sanctimonious and has no charm on the surface, but she is promiscuous in her bones and often cheats on wild men.Then her conversation turned to Ruth Chalice, the girl whom Foinet had praised in the morning. "She's hooked up with all the men in the studio, almost like a whore, and she's a slob who doesn't get a bath once a month. It's all true, and I'm not talking nonsense." Philip felt very uncomfortable.He had also heard all sorts of gossip about Miss Chalice.But it would be absurd to doubt the virginity of Mrs. Otter, who lived with her mother.The woman next to him actually maliciously slandered others in broad daylight, which really chilled him. "I don't care what they say. I'll go my own way. I know I've got talent and I'm made to be a painter. I'd rather kill myself than quit. Oh, the one who was laughed at at school Well, I'm not the first, but in the end, it's not the people who are ridiculed who become the most outstanding geniuses. Art is the only thing I care about, and I would give my whole life to it. The problem is that Can you persevere and persevere." This is her evaluation of herself, and anyone who disagrees with this will be regarded by her as having ulterior motives and being jealous of talents.She hates Clutton.Clutton had no real talent, she told Philip, and that his pictures were flashy and superficial.He could never draw anything decent in his life.As for Lawson: "A bastard with red hair and freckles. So afraid of Foinet that I dared not show him my own drawings. Anyway, I have a little guts, don't I? I don't care what Foinet said." Me, I know I'm a real artist anyway." When they reached the street where she lived Philip left her with a sigh of relief. Nevertheless, when Miss Price offered to take him to the Louvre the following Sunday, Philip gladly went.She took him to see the Mona Lisa.Philip looked at the famous painting with a faint disappointment in his heart.However, having read and reread Walter Pater's remarks on the picture by heart before, until he knew it by heart--Pate's witty remarks, which added a little color to this world-famous masterpiece--Philip Then he recited this passage to Miss Price. "That's pure literati," she said in a slightly disdainful tone, "don't believe that." She showed him the famous paintings of Rembrandt, and at the same time gave an introduction to them, which was quite logical.She stood in front of the painting "The Believers in the Village of Emmes." "If you can grasp the beauty of this masterpiece, then you've got a handle on painting." She showed Philip Ingres's "The Slave" and .Fanny Price was a domineering guide who could not allow Philip to watch what he liked, but insisted on Philip admiring the works she admired.She is very serious about learning painting and has a lot of energy.Philip passed by the window of the promenade and saw the gorgeous, elegant and sunny Tuileries Palace outside the window, just like a landscape painting by Raphael, he couldn't help shouting: "Hey, it's so beautiful! Let's stay here for a while." However, Price was indifferent and said nonchalantly, "Well, it's okay to stay for a while. But don't forget that we are here to look at the paintings." The autumn wind was coming, and the air was fresh and refreshing, and Philip felt very refreshed.When they were standing in the spacious courtyard of the Louvre near noon, Philip wanted to follow Flanagan's example and shouted at the top of his throat: To hell with art! "I say, how about we go up to the rue Michel and have something to eat in a restaurant?" suggested Philip. Miss Price cast him a suspicious look. "I've got lunch ready at home," she said. "That's okay, you can save it for tomorrow. Just let me treat you once." "I don't know why you asked me." "It would make me happy," he replied with a smile. They crossed the river, and there was a restaurant on the corner of the Rue Saint-Michel. "Let's go in." "No, I won't go in, this restaurant is too rich." She walked on without looking back, and Philip was obliged to follow.After a few steps, I came to a small restaurant, where a dozen or so customers were already dining under the awning on the sidewalk.In bold white letters on the restaurant windows: Dejeuner 1.25, vin comprls. "It's impossible to get a cheaper lunch than this, and the place looks pretty good anyway." They sat down at an empty table and waited for the waiter to bring them omelets, the first item on the menu.Philip looked at the passers-by with great interest, as if fascinated by them.Although he was a bit sleepy, he felt an indescribable pleasure. "Hey, look at that one in the jacket, how funny!" He glanced at Miss Price, and to his surprise he saw that she ignored the sight and stared blankly at her plate, two heavy tears rolling down her cheeks. . "What's the matter with you?" he exclaimed. "Don't say anything to me, or I'll get up and go," she replied. This confuses Philip completely.Luckily at this time the omelet arrived.Philip began to divide it in two, and each of them ate.Philip tried to find innocuous topics for conversation with him, and Miss Price, for her part, seemed to be trying to restrain herself.However, the meal was always a bit of a disappointment.Philip had a poor appetite, and the way Miss Price ate made it even worse.While she was eating, she couldn't help but tsk-tsk, her gobbling greedy look was a bit like a wild animal in a zoo.Every time she finishes eating a dish, she always wipes the vegetable bowl with slices of bread until the bottom of the bowl is white and shiny, as if even a small drop of marinade is reluctant to let it stay on it.When they were eating Camembert, Philip saw with disgust that she had eaten her share, down to the rind.Even a hungry ghost who hasn't eaten for a few days may not be as greedy as her. Miss Price is volatile and moody, although she was still polite when we parted today.Yes, maybe tomorrow I will turn my face and turn my back on you.But then again, he learned a lot from her after all.Although she herself is not very good at painting, everything can be passed on orally.She knew a little bit of the knowledge taught by Yu, and Philip made progress in painting only when she was there to teach him from time to time.Of course, Mrs. Otter helped him a lot, as did Miss Chalice from time to time.Point out the deficiencies in his products.In addition, Lawson's eloquence, and the model provided by Clutton, also benefited Philip a lot.Miss Fanny Price, however, hated it most when he took advice from others; and when Philip went to ask her advice after talking to someone, she always refused the door venomously.Lawson, Clutton, Flanagan and others often use her to make fun of Philip. "Look out, boy," they said, "she's in love with you." "Playing the piano randomly," he laughed. The idea that someone like Miss Price could fall in love was utterly absurd.Philip had no choice but to think of her ugly face, her thatched hair, her dirty hands, and the dirty, torn brown clothes she wore all year round: it seemed that she Money is tight.In fact, who here has a lot of money?She should at least pay attention to her appearance and keep it tidy.Take that skirt as an example. It can be done by mending it with a needle and thread. Philip came into contact with many people, and he began to systematically summarize his impressions of the people around him.Now, he is no longer as indifferent as he was when he lived in Heidelberg (that period of time seemed to him like a world away), but he has developed a calmer and more mature interest in the people around him, deliberately watching from the sidelines, and secretly make judgement.He has known Clutton for three months, and although he sees him every day, his understanding of this person is still the same as when he met by chance.Clutton left the impression on everyone in the studio that this man was quite talented.Everyone said that he had a bright future and would definitely accomplish a lot in the future, and he himself thought so.As for what kind of career he can do in the future, neither he himself nor others can say anything.Before Clutton came to Amitrano, he had successively studied painting in the studios of "Julion", "Fine Arts", and "Mark Ferson". Speaking of which, he stayed in Amitrano for the longest time because he I found that here I can go alone and do things on my own.He neither likes to show his own works, nor does he frequently ask for advice or give advice to others like other young people who study painting.It is said that he had a studio and bedroom in the small studio on the First Battle Road, where he kept some of his most exquisite paintings, and if anyone could persuade him to exhibit them publicly, he would surely become famous in one fell swoop.He couldn't afford to hire models, so he did still lifes.Lawson raved about one of his drawings of apples on a plate, calling it a masterpiece in the art gallery.Clutton had a distasteful disposition for something he didn't quite understand, and he always felt that his work was not satisfactory.Sometimes, he felt that a certain part of the work, for example, the forearm or lower limb of a nude painting, or a glass or porcelain cup in a still life painting, might not be satisfactory, so he simply cut these parts out of the oilcloth and individually preserve it, and destroy the rest of the picture.In this way, if anyone wants to appreciate his masterpieces, he can tell the truth: he can't show any paintings that can be appreciated by others.In Brittany he had met an unknown painter, a eccentric, who had been a stockbroker until he was middle-aged and gave up painting.Clutton was deeply influenced by this person's works, and he was planning to break away from the Impressionist school, spend a lot of effort, and find another way, not only to break out a new way of painting, but also to explore a new way of observing things.Philip felt that there was indeed something eccentric about Clutton. Clutton seldom opened his mouth, whether at the table at Grevia's or in the evening conversation at Versailles or at the Café des Lilacs.He sat aside in silence, with a mocking look on his thin face, and only opened his mouth when he saw an opportunity for a wisecrack.He loves to pick a fight, and he takes pleasure in anyone in the room who can be the target of his wit and sarcasm.He seldom talked about anything other than painting, and only in front of one or two people he thought worth talking about.Philip murmured in his heart: God knows what kind of mystery this guy is playing.True, his taciturnity, his haggard countenance, and that stinging sense of humor all seemed to express his personality.However, all of these may be just a clever disguise to cover up his ignorance. As for Lawson, Philip became acquainted with him in a few days.He has a wide range of interests and is a pleasant companion.He read a lot, and few of his classmates could catch up with him in this respect.Despite his meager income, he enjoyed buying books and was happy to lend them out.Philippe then had the opportunity to read the novels of Flaubert and Balzac, as well as the poems of Verlaine, Heredia and Villiers de Lier-Adam.They often went to watch plays together, and sometimes went to the opera theater and sat in the top balcony to watch comic operas.Not far from their residence is the Odeon Theater.Philip soon shared his friend's enthusiasm for the tragedians of the Louis XIV period, and for the sonorous Alexandrian poetry.There are often red concerts in Teterboulevard, which cost seventy-five.For a cent, you can enjoy beautiful music there, and maybe a few free drinks.The seats were not very comfortable, the audience was crowded, and there was a strong smell of shredded tobacco in the stale air, which made people suffocate, but with the enthusiasm of young people, they responded to all these Nevermind.Sometimes they also went to the Billier Ballroom to have fun.On such occasions, Flanagan followed along to join in the fun.He was lively, loud, and had a joviality which often gave Philip and Lawson great amusement.When it comes to dancing, he is the best at it.Within ten minutes of entering the ballroom, I was already dancing on the dance floor with a young sales girl I just met. Every one of them wanted a mistress.The mistress is an ornament in the hands of the Parisian apprenticeship.If he got a mistress, the partners around him would look at him with admiration, and he himself would have the capital to brag about himself.But the difficulty is that they are so poor that it is even difficult to support themselves. Although they plausibly say that French girls are all very smart, even if they have a mistress, it may not be much more expensive than living alone. It is a pity that they grow up with them It's hard to find a girl with the same heart even with a lantern.Therefore, as far as most of the students are concerned, they have no choice but to be content with scolding those stinky bitches for being inferior, looking down on poor students like them, and committing themselves to those accomplished painters.Never imagined that it would be so difficult to find a mistress in Paris.Several times, Lawson managed to meet a chick and make a date with her.In the next twenty-four hours, he was so excited that he couldn't sit still, boasting how charming the beauty was to everyone, but when the appointed time came, the girl was nowhere to be seen.Lawson did not arrive at Grevia's until late in the day, and exclaimed angrily: "Damn it, I missed it again! I don't know why they don't like me. Maybe it's because I don't speak French well, or because I hate my red hair. I've been in Paris for more than a year. Didn't even get a single chick, what a loser." "You haven't touched the door yet," Flanagan said. Flanagan has repeatedly succeeded in the field of love, and he can report a long list of mistresses' names in one breath, which makes people a little jealous.Although they could not believe that what he said was all the truth, but in the face of the facts, they had to admit that what he said might not be all lies.It wasn't that permanent bond he was looking for, though.He only planned to stay in Paris for two years; he didn't want to go to university, and he came to Paris to study painting after talking to his parents.After two years, he was going back to Seattle to inherit his father's business.He has long made up his mind to have fun in time, so he doesn't pursue any loyal love, but is keen on flirting with women and acting on occasion. "I don't know how you got those babes," said Lawson indignantly. "That's not easy, man!" Flanagan replied. "As long as you look at the target, you can go up to it! The difficulty is how to get rid of them afterwards. It's up to you to play tricks." Philip was busy with painting most of the time, besides reading books, going to the theater, listening to other people's chats, so he didn't have any thoughts about chasing women.He thinks that the future will be long, and when he can speak French fluently, he will not have a chance! He had not seen Miss Wilkinson for more than a year.He had received a letter from her just as he was preparing to leave Blackstable, and was too busy in the first weeks after his arrival in Paris to answer it.Not long after, she sent in another book. Philip guessed that the letter must be full of resentment, and considering the mood at the time, he thought it would be better not to read it, so he put the letter aside and planned to read it later. I didn't know that I completely forgot about it later.A month later, until one day when he opened the drawer to find a pair of socks without holes, he accidentally found that letter again.He looked despondently at the unopened letter.It must have hurt his heart to think of Miss Wilkinson, and he could not help blaming himself for being unkind.Then he thought about it, never mind her, anyway, she has survived at this time, at least she has survived the most painful moment.He also thought that women tend to exaggerate and exaggerate when they speak and write letters.The same words, if they come from the mouth of a man, carry much more weight.Besides, haven't I already made up my mind not to meet her no matter what in the future? Since I haven't written to her for a long time, why bother to reply to her letter now?He resolved not to open the letter. "I guess she won't write again," he said to himself. "She can't fail to understand that the relationship between us has ended long ago. After all, she is old and can almost be my old lady. She should be a little bit self-aware." For an hour or two he felt unwell.In his situation, it was obvious that such a decisive attitude should be adopted, but he always thought the whole thing was absurd.But if Miss Wilkinson did not write to him again, or make a surprise appearance in Paris, to make him look bad in front of his friends--he feared she would do it, and it was a ridiculous fear.没过多少时候，他就把她忘得一干二净了。 与此同时，他毫不含糊地摒弃了旧时的崇拜偶像。想当初，他是那么惊讶地看待印象派作品，可是往日的惊讶之情，今日尽化为钦慕之意，菲利普也像其余的人一样，振振有词地谈着马奈、莫奈和德加等画家的过人之处。他同时买了一张安格尔名作《女奴》和一张《奥兰毕亚》的照片，把它们并排钉在脸盆架的上方，这样，他可以一边修面剃须，一边细细揣摩大师们的神来之笔。他现在确信，在莫奈之前根本谈不上有什么风景画。当他站在伦勃朗的《埃默斯村的信徒》或委拉斯开兹的《被跳蚤咬破鼻子的女士腼前，他真的感到心弦在震颤。"被跳蚤咬破鼻子"，这当然不是那位女士的真实姓名，但是他正因为有了这个浑号才在格雷维亚餐馆出了名。从这里岂不正看出此画的魅力吗，尽管画中人生就一副令人难以消受的怪模样。他已把罗斯金、布因一琼司和瓦茨等人，连同他来巴黎时穿戴的硬边圆顶礼帽和笔挺的蓝底白点领带，全都打入冷宫。现在，他戴的是宽边软帽，系的是随风飘飞的黑围巾，另外再套一件裁剪式样颇带几分浪漫气息的披肩。他在蒙帕纳斯大街上悠然漫步，那神态就像是他一生下来就知道这地方似的。由于凭着一股锲而不舍的韧劲，他居然也学会了喝苦艾酒，不再感到味儿苦涩。他开始留长发了，心里还很想在下巴颏上蓄起胡子，无奈造化不讲情面，历来对年轻人的非分之想不加理会，于是他也只得将就点了。