ew work from a prejudiced viewpoint。
〃The appellation 'Chironesque' was considered as a derogatory 'literary' term。 It was deeply resented by Susan Sontag； who said so in The Partisan Review。 The Galt essay wasn't； in all fairness； disrespectful； but Gait stated bluntly that Debierue had retrogressed。 He claimed that 'bicephalous centaurlike creatures' were clearly visible in the dozen paintings Debierue had shown him。 And this forced Gait to conclude that the 'master' was now a 'teacher；' and that didacticism had no place in contemporary art。 The 'purist' view； of course。〃
〃Of course。〃 Berenice nodded。
〃At any rate…and here he was reaching for it…because Chiron the centaur was the mythical teacher of Hercules； and other Greek heroes； Gait christened the period 'Chironesque： This was a cunning allusion to the classicism Galt detested； elements Galt would've considered regressive in any modern painter。
〃Debierue； of course； said nothing。〃
Berenice nodded and closed her eyes。
〃The controversial Galt essay was well timed。 It rejuvenated interest in the old painter； and the 'bicephalous centaur…like creatures；' as described by Gait； made the new work resemble…or appear to resemble…Abstract Expressionism。 Some wishful thinking was going on。 Nineteen fifty…eight wasn't an exciting pictorial year。 Except for a handful of New York painters； called the 'Sidney Janis Painters； after their dealer； the so…called New York School was undergoing a transitional phase。 And Debierue was news； of course； because he'd received so little public notice in recent years。〃
Berenice dropped her chin。 〃Uh huh。〃
〃One New York dealer cabled Debierue an offer of fifty thousand dollars for any one of the Chironesque paintings； sight unseen。 Debierue acknowledged it by sending back a blank cablegram…with just his type signature。 The dealer took advantage of the publicity by blowing up a copy of his offer and Debierue's reply and by placing the photo blowups in the window of his Fifty…seventh Street gallery。 Other dealers； who aped and upped the original offer； didn't receive any replies。
〃How I'll manage it； I don't know； Berenice。 I know only that I'm determined to be the first critic to see Debierue's American paintings； and I've already decided to call it his 'American Period'！〃
But I was talking to myself。 Berenice； I noticed； with some irritation； had fallen asleep。
6
Despite her size； and she was a large woman； Berenice； curled and cramped up in sleep； looked vulnerable to the point of fragility。 Her unreasonably long blond lashes swept round flushed cheeks； and her childish face； in repose and without makeup； took several years from her age。 Her heavy breasts and big round ass； however； exposed now； as the short flimsy nightgown rode high above her hips； were incongruously mature in contrast with her innocent face and tangled Alice…in…Wonderland hair。 As I examined her； with squinty…eyed； ambivalent interest； a delicate bubble of spit formed in the exact center of her bowed； slightly parted lips。
Oh； I had put Berenice to sleep all right； with my discursive discussion of Jacques Debierue。 With an impatient； involuntary yawn of my own I wondered how much she had understood about Debierue before she had drifted off pletely。 She had been attentive； of course； as she always was when I talked to her； but she had never asked a serious question。 Not that it made much difference。 Berenice had a minimal interest in art…or in anything that bordered on abstract thought…and for some time I had suspected that the slight interest she was able to muster occasionally was largely feigned。 An effort to please me。
Except for her adhesive interest in me as a person； or personality； and in matching sexual frequencies； I wondered if anything else had ever stimulated her intellectually。 For a woman who had majored in English； and taught the subject （granted； she taught on a high school level）； she was surprisingly low on insight into the nature of literature。
No one could accuse her of being well read； either。 Her insights into literature when I had； on occasion； attempted to draw her out； were either sophomoric or parroted generalities remembered from her college English courses。 She had an excellent memory for plot lines and the names of characters； but for little else。
She was probably a poor classroom teacher； I decided。 She had such a lazy good…natured disposition she could not have been any great shakes as a disciplinarian。 But she would have few disciplinary problems in a city like Duluth； where teen…agers were polite incipient Republicans。 New York high school students would have had a gentle woman like Berenice in tears within minutes。
But how did I know？ I didn't。 In a power situation； with children； she might inspire terror； fear； and trembling。 She never talked about her work and； for all I knew； she might be an expert in grammar and a veritable hotshot in the classroom。
The persona of a woman in love is highly deceiving。
Did she feign sentimentality as well as other things？ She cried real tears one night when Timmy Fraser sang 〃My Funny Valentine〃 at the Red Pirate Lounge…stretching out the song in the mournful way that he does for fully ten minutes。 Any woman who fails to recognize the inherent viciousness of Lorenz Hart's 1930s lyrics has a head filled with cornmeal stirabout instead of brains。 She also mentioned once that she had cried for two days over Madame Bovary's suicide。 Fair enough。 Flaubert had earned those tears； but she had no insight into the style of the novel； nor did she analyze how Flaubert had maneuvered her emotionally into weeping over the death of that poor； sick woman。
Knowing this much； and after thinking about it； I realized that I knew very little about her； it was unreasonable of me to expect a wakeful interest from Berenice in Jacques Debierue。 Berenice was a funny valentine； that is what she was； and her chin was a little weak； too。 In a vague abstract way I loved her。 At the same time； I wondered what to do with her。 She had been a sounding board to diminish some of the excitement inside me； but now it was two AM。 and I was going to be busy today。 Busy； busy。 Perhaps if I used her right； she would be an asset。 Wouldn't it help to have a beautiful woman in tow when I called on Debierue？ He would hardly slam the door in the face of a strikingly attractive woman。 A Frenchman？ Never 。 。 。
The bubble of spit ballooned suddenly as she exhaled； and inaudibly popped。 Berenice whimpered in her sleep and tried； wriggling； to find a more fortable position in her chair。 This was impossible。 With her long legs cramped up under her rear and in a tight…fitting canvas officer's chaiz it was miraculous that she could fall asleep in the first place。
I stopped rationalizing； recognizing what I was doing… rationalizing…and prodded Berenice's soft but rather flat belly with a stiff forefinger。
〃Wake up； Audience；〃 I said； not unkindly。
〃I wasn't asleep；〃 she lied。 〃I just closed my eyes for a second to rest them。〃
〃I know。 I forgot to ask； but where have you been the last couple of days？〃
〃Here。〃 Her eyes widened。 〃Right here。〃
〃Not today you weren't。〃
〃Oh； you mean today？〃
〃Yes。 Today。〃
〃I was at Gloria's apartment。 Honestly； I got so blue just sitting around here all alone waiting for you to e back that I called her。 She drove over for me and took me in。〃
〃I thought as much。 Gloria tried to pump me on the phone when！ got back。 I thought something was odd about her phony laughter； but couldn't figure it out。 If you didn't intend to go back to Duluth； why did you take your bags and leave that weird note for me？〃
〃I tried to go； I really did； but I just couldn't！〃 Her eyes moistened。 〃I want to stay with you； James。 。 。 don't you want me to？〃
I had to forestall her tears。 Why can't women learn how to say 〃Good…bye〃 like a man？
〃We'll see； baby； we'll see。 Let's go to bed now。 We'll talk about it in the morning； much later this morning。〃
Berenice rose obediently； crossed her arms； and with a sweeping； graceful movement removed her shorty nightgown。 No longer sleepy； she grinned wickedly and crawled onto the tumbled Murphy bed； shaking her tremendous stern as she did so。 I smiled。 She was amusing when she tried to be coy because she was so big。 I undressed slowly and crawled in beside her。 The air…conditioner； without enough BTUs to cool the apartment adequately； labored away…uh uh； uh uh； uh uh。。。 。 As a rule I could shut the sound out； but now it bothered me。
I was tense； slightly high from drinking four cups of black coffee； and overstimulated by my ability to recall； with so little effort； the details of Debierue's career。 Three； no； four days had passed since the last time； and yet； strangely； I wasn't interested in sex。 To make love now would be to initiate a new beginning to a something I had written 〃ending〃 to…perhaps that was the reason。 That； or my unresolved feelings about Berenice now that I was on the verge of a future…if everything worked out all right…that held no place for a woman who was interested in me as a person。 Any relationship between a man and a