York. Finally he fell into a restless sleep, but he woke up several times during the night hearing the voice of Genis, saying, “Go learn some fundamentals. Come back in a year and we’ll see.”
He rose early and spent another day roaming the city. This time he went to art shops and studied the paintings that were for sale. There seemed to be hundreds of small shops selling art of all kinds. He recognized that most of the paintings were far better than anything he had ever done. Totally depressed, he did not eat again until late that night, and again he drank more than he should.
“I’ve got to do something,” he muttered, “but what?”
****
On Thursday morning Tyler got up, his head throbbing, and when he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a bum. He had not shaved for three days, his hair sprang in every direction, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“I’ve got to do something,” he told himself loudly for the umpteenth time that week. He knew he should enroll at one of the schools whose standards were not as high as the one that had refused him, but somehow he could not force himself to do it.
“Clean yourself up and do something—anything,” he told himself sternly. “You cannot continue to wander the streets of Paris without a plan.” He wet his hair down and combed it into place and then got out his razor. As he pulled the blade across his chin, he thought of Jolie Vernay. She had no idea that he was in France, for he had not written to her for several months. Why not go visit her now? I’ll go there and get a place, and I’ll learn to paint better. Then I’ll come back and enroll in a different school here.
It might not have made complete sense, but at least it was a plan, and he threw himself into it. He spent the morning buying art supplies, for he wasn’t sure if he would be able to find any in Ambert, the village where Jolie lived, and then bought a train ticket.
He found one of the last vacant seats in the car and settled in. He said not a word to anyone but was occupied with his own doubts. It began snowing shortly after the train left, and he sat there looking out at the signs beside the small villages. The names of the towns meant nothing to him, but once when the train stopped for some time at a small village called Moulins, it required all of his strength not to get off the train. What am I going to see Jolie for? What can she do? The question penetrated his dark thoughts, and he almost got off and headed back to Le Havre and a ship to take him back to America.
But there was nothing to go back to, so he remained in his seat. Finally he put his head back and dozed off and then later, when he woke up, he saw that they were pulling into a small village. When he saw that the sign said Ambert, he got up at once and grabbed his luggage.
He was the only person who had disembarked there. He went over to an elderly man who was sitting on a bench. “Can you tell me, sir, where a family named Vernay lives? Mademoiselle Jolie Vernay?”
“But of course, the doctor. You take this road until you come to a big white house with turrets. Turn left and go until you see a small house set off to the right. It is green. That is where Mademoiselle Vernay lives with her mother. You are English?”
“No. American.”
“You come to France at a bad time.” He shrugged before continuing. “Madame Vernay, the doctor’s mother, works at a watchmaker’s shop. It is right down that street, you see. She might still be there if you care to see her before going to thehouse, although it may be a little late,” he said as he looked at his pocket watch. “You have business with the Vernays?”
“Yes.” Tyler did not feel like divulging his business with this man or with anyone else, so he picked up his luggage and trudged away. He felt the man’s eyes on him as he left, and with great misgiving started down the street, wishing desperately he had never come to France in the first place.
CHAPTER FIVE
A
He rose early and spent another day roaming the city. This time he went to art shops and studied the paintings that were for sale. There seemed to be hundreds of small shops selling art of all kinds. He recognized that most of the paintings were far better than anything he had ever done. Totally depressed, he did not eat again until late that night, and again he drank more than he should.
“I’ve got to do something,” he muttered, “but what?”
****
On Thursday morning Tyler got up, his head throbbing, and when he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw a bum. He had not shaved for three days, his hair sprang in every direction, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“I’ve got to do something,” he told himself loudly for the umpteenth time that week. He knew he should enroll at one of the schools whose standards were not as high as the one that had refused him, but somehow he could not force himself to do it.
“Clean yourself up and do something—anything,” he told himself sternly. “You cannot continue to wander the streets of Paris without a plan.” He wet his hair down and combed it into place and then got out his razor. As he pulled the blade across his chin, he thought of Jolie Vernay. She had no idea that he was in France, for he had not written to her for several months. Why not go visit her now? I’ll go there and get a place, and I’ll learn to paint better. Then I’ll come back and enroll in a different school here.
It might not have made complete sense, but at least it was a plan, and he threw himself into it. He spent the morning buying art supplies, for he wasn’t sure if he would be able to find any in Ambert, the village where Jolie lived, and then bought a train ticket.
He found one of the last vacant seats in the car and settled in. He said not a word to anyone but was occupied with his own doubts. It began snowing shortly after the train left, and he sat there looking out at the signs beside the small villages. The names of the towns meant nothing to him, but once when the train stopped for some time at a small village called Moulins, it required all of his strength not to get off the train. What am I going to see Jolie for? What can she do? The question penetrated his dark thoughts, and he almost got off and headed back to Le Havre and a ship to take him back to America.
But there was nothing to go back to, so he remained in his seat. Finally he put his head back and dozed off and then later, when he woke up, he saw that they were pulling into a small village. When he saw that the sign said Ambert, he got up at once and grabbed his luggage.
He was the only person who had disembarked there. He went over to an elderly man who was sitting on a bench. “Can you tell me, sir, where a family named Vernay lives? Mademoiselle Jolie Vernay?”
“But of course, the doctor. You take this road until you come to a big white house with turrets. Turn left and go until you see a small house set off to the right. It is green. That is where Mademoiselle Vernay lives with her mother. You are English?”
“No. American.”
“You come to France at a bad time.” He shrugged before continuing. “Madame Vernay, the doctor’s mother, works at a watchmaker’s shop. It is right down that street, you see. She might still be there if you care to see her before going to thehouse, although it may be a little late,” he said as he looked at his pocket watch. “You have business with the Vernays?”
“Yes.” Tyler did not feel like divulging his business with this man or with anyone else, so he picked up his luggage and trudged away. He felt the man’s eyes on him as he left, and with great misgiving started down the street, wishing desperately he had never come to France in the first place.
CHAPTER FIVE
A
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