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〃I am curious about why you immigrated to Florida； M。 Debierue。〃
〃I almost didn't。 For my old bones； I wanted the sun。 When more than fifty years of my work was burned in the fire…you knew about the fire？〃
〃Yes； sir。〃
〃A most fortunate accident。 It gave me a chance to begin again。 The artist who can begin again at my age is a very fortunate man。 So it was to the new world I turned； the new world and a new start。 Tahiti； I think at first； would be best； but my name would then be linked somehow to Gauguin。〃 He shook his head sadly。 〃Unavoidable。 Such parisons would not be fair； but they would have been made。 And on the small island； perhaps the bus would pass my studio every day with American tourists to stare at me。 Tahiti； no。 Then I think； South America？ No； there is always trouble there。 And then Florida seems exactly right。 But I did not e right away。 I knew about the war in Florida； and I have had enough war in my lifetime。〃
〃The war？〃 I said； puzzled。 〃The war in Vietnam？〃
〃No； no。 The Seminole War。 It is well known in Europe that these； the Florida Seminole Indians； are at war with your United States。 Is it not so？〃
〃Yes； I suppose so； but only in a technical sense。 The Seminoles are actually a very small Indian nation。 And it's not a real war。 It's a failure on the part of the Indians to sign a peace treaty with the U。S。； that's all。 Once in a while there's a slight legal flare…up； when some Florida county tries to force an Indian kid to go to school when he doesn't want to go…although a lot of Indians go to school now voluntarily。 But there hasn't been an incident with shots fired for many years。 The Seminoles have learned that they're better off than other Indian nations； in a legal way； by not signing a treaty。〃
〃Yes。〃 He nodded。 〃I learned this from M。 Cassidy； but I wrote some letters first to be certain。〃 He pursed his lips solemnly and looked down at the countertop。 〃I will die in Florida now。 This much I know； and a Frenchman does not find it so easy to leave France when he knows he will never see it again。 There are other countries in the world that would have weled me； M。 Figueras。 Greece； Italy。 The world is too good to me。 I have always had many good friends； friends that I have never met。 They write me letters； very nice letters from all over the world。〃
I nodded my understanding。 It was perfectly natural for strangers in every country to write to Debierue； although it had never occurred to me to write him myself。 The same thing had happened to Schopenhauer in his old age； and he had been as pleased as Debierue to receive the letters。 Any truly radical artist with original ideas who lives long enough will not only be accepted by the world at large； he will be admired； if not revered； for his dogged persistence…even by people who detest everything he stands for。
But there was a major difference between the old German philosopher and this old French painter。 Schopenhauer had accepted the flood of congratulations on his birthdays during his seventies as a well…deserved tribute； as a vindication。 Debierue； on the other hand； while grateful； seemed bewildered and even humbled by the letters he received。
〃But I am not sorry I came to Florida； M。 Figueras。 Your sun is good for me。〃
〃And your work？ Has it gone well for you； too？〃
〃The artist〃…he looked into my eyes…〃can work anywhere。 Is it not so？〃
I cleared my throat to make the pitch I had been putting off。 〃M。 Debierue； I respect your stand on art and privacy very much。 In fact； just to sit here talking to you and drinking your fresh orange juice…〃
〃The fresh frozen；〃 he emended。
〃。 。 。 is an honor。 A great honor。 I'm well aware of your reluctance to show your work to the public and to critics； and I can't say that I blame you。 You have； however； on occasion； permitted a few outstanding critics to examine and write about your work。 You've only been in Florida for a few months； as I understand it； and I don't know if you've pleted any paintings you'd be willing to show an American critic。 But if you have； I would consider it a privilege…〃
〃Are you a painter； M。 Figueras？〃
〃No； sir； I'm not。 I had enough studio courses in college to know that I could never be a successful painter。 My talent； such as it is； is writing； and I'm a craftsman rather than an artist； I regret to say。 But I am truly a superior craftsman as a critic。 To be frank； in addition to the personal pleasure I'd get from seeing your American paintings； an exclusive； in…depth article in my magazine would be a feather in my cap。 The sales of the magazine would jump； and it would be the beginning for me of some very lucrative outside assignments from other art journals。 As you know； only one photograph of any single one of your paintings would be art news big enough to get both of us international attention…〃
〃Do you sculpt？ Or work with collage； ceramics？〃
〃No； sir。〃 I tried to keep the annoyance I felt out of my voice。 〃Nothing like that。 I'm quite inept when it es to doing work with my hands。〃
〃But I do not understand； M。 Figueras。 Your critical articles are very sensitive。 I do not understand why you do not paint； or…〃
〃At one time this was a rather sore point with me； but I got over it。 I tried hard enough； but I simply couldn't draw well enough…too clumsy； I guess。 If I didn't have a welldeveloped verbal sense I'd probably have a tough time making a living。〃
〃I've got to go to the restroom； Mr。 Debierue；〃 Berenice said shyly。
〃Certainly。〃 Debierue came around the bar and pointed down the hallway。 〃The door at the far end。〃
I climbed off the stool when she did and looked down the hallway past Debierue's shoulder。 Berenice was undoubtedly bored； but she also undoubtedly had to go to the can。 At the end of the short hallway there were two more doors en face； in addition to the door to the bathroom straight ahead。 One door was padlocked； and one was not。 The padlocked door； with its heavy hasp； was probably Debierue's studio and formerly the master bedroom of the original owner。
I took the Polaroid camera out of its leather case； and checked to see if there was an unused flash bulb in the bounce reflector。
〃This camera；〃 I said； 〃is so simple to operate that an eight…year…old child can get good results with it almost every time。 It's that simple。〃 I laughed。 〃But before I learned how to work the damned thing I ruined ten rolls of film。 It's ridiculous； I know。 And with typing； which I had to learn； I was equally clumsy。 I took a typing course twice； but the touch system was too much for me to master。〃 I held up my index and second fingers。 〃I have to type my stuff with these four fingers。 So you can see why I quit trying to paint。 It was too frustrating； so I quit trying before I suffered any emotional damage。〃
He looked at me quizzically； and stroked his hooked nose with a long finger。
〃I guess I sound a little stupid；〃 I said apologetically。
〃No； no。 The critic…all critics…arouses my curiosity； M。 Figueras。〃
〃It's quite simple； really。 I'm purported to be an expert； or at least an authority； on art and the preschool child。 And what it boils down to is this。 Most motor activity is learned before the age of five。 A preschool child can only learn things by doing them。 And if you have a mother who does everything for you…little things like tying shoelaces； brushing your teeth； feeding you； and so on； you don't do them yourself。 After five or six； when you have to do them yourself； in school； for example； it's too late ever to master the dexterity and motor control a painter wifi need in later years。 Overly solicitous mothers； that is； mothers who wait on their children hand and foot； inadvertently destroy incipient artists。〃
〃Have you ever written about this theory？〃
I nodded。 〃Yes。 A short book entitled Art and the Preschool Child； and I'll mail you a copy。 It explains； in part； why men who are psychologically suited to being painters turn out so much bad art。 It isn't a theory though； it's a fact。 A neglected point that I made is that such people are not lost to the world as artists。 If their problem is recognized； they can be rechanneled into o