cult to interpret。 Whether a chuckle is friendly or unfriendly； it merely serves as a nervous form of punctuation。 But to mention one particular incident； or paragraph； out of the thousands I had written； and the 〃fly〃 symbol at that； caused the knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach to throb。 The fact that he had read my piece on Vint （not a hack job； because I don't write hack pieces； but it certainly wasn't one of my best articles…Vint's work simply hadn't been good enough for a serious in…depth treatment） could be a hindrance to me。
No one knew； because Debierue had never mented； what the old man had thought about Gait's article； with its fanciful 〃Chironesque〃 interpretations； but writers with reputations much greater than mine had been turned down subsequently when they had asked the painter for interviews。 After the Gait article； Debierue had every right to distrust critics。
Damn Galt； anyway； I thought bitterly。 Then I saw the gilded baroque frame on the wall and pointed to it。
〃That isn't the famous No。 One； is it？〃
Debierue pursed his lips； and shrugged。 〃It was；〃 he answered lightly； and entered the kitchen。
The moment I examined the picture I knew what he meant； of course。 There was no crack on the wall behind the mount。 The frame； without the crack； and not hanging in its original environment； was no longer the fabled No。 One。 My exultation was great nevertheless。 It was something I had never expected to see in my lifetime。 Berenice； after a quick glance at the empty frame； seated herself in a Sears…Danish chair and asked me for a cigarette。
I shook my head impatiently。 〃Not till we ask permission；〃 I told her。
There was a narrow bar…counter built into the wall。 It separated the kitchen from the living room。 There was no dining room； and the living room was furnished Spartanly。 The chicken farmer…tenant who had built the house had probably intended； like many Floridians； to use the large screened porch as a dining area。 There was a square； confirming pass…through window from the kitchen to the porch。
There were no other pictures on the walls； and the living room was furnished cheaply and austerely with Sears furniture。 Mr。 Cassidy had certainly spared expense in furnishing the house for the famous visitor。 There wasn't a hi…fi stereo； a radio； or television set； and there were no drapes to mask the severe horizontal lines of the Venetian blinds covering the windows。 Except for two Danish chairs； a Marfak…topped coffee table； a black Naugahyde twoseater couch； and one floor lamp…all grouped in a tight oblong…the huge living room； with its carpetless terrazzo floor； was bare。 A Miami Herald and a superslick copy of Réalitès were on the coffee table。 There were two tall black wrought…iron barstools at the counter。 Debierue either had to have his meals at this bar…counter or take his food out to the porch and eat on a Samsonite card table。
Mr。 Cassidy would not； I knew； tip Debierue off that I was ing； but if the old painter asked me how I had found him； what could I say？ He didn't appear surprised by my sudden appearance。 If he asked； I would say that my editor had told me and that he sent me down on an assignment。 These thoughts nagged at my mind as Debierue prepared the frozen orange juice。 He placed an aluminum pitcher on the table； opened the frozen can with an electric can opener； and then made three trips to the sink to fifi the empty can with tap water。
He worked methodically； with great concentration； adding each canful of water to the pitcher like a chemist preparing an experiment。 With a long…handled spoon he stirred the mixture； smiled； and beckoned for us to e and sit at the bar。 Berenice and I climbed onto the stools； and he filled three plastic glasses to their brims。
Without touching his glass he looked beyond me to No。 One on the wall。 〃This is the new world； M。 Figueras； and there are no cracks in the wall of the new world。 Here the concrete； brick； and stucco walls are hurricane…proof。 My insurance policy guarantees this。〃
This might be a good opening or closing sentence for my article； I thought。 I leaned forward； prepared to explore his thinking on the 〃new world〃 in more detail； but he shook his head as a signal for me to remain silent。
〃I will not suggest to you that only M。 Cassidy could have directed you here； M。 Figueras。 It is unimportant now that you are here； and we are both aware that M。 Cassidy is； like all collectors； a most peculiar man。〃
Grateful for the easy out； I asked for permission to smoke。 Debierue took a saucer from the cabinet； set it between us； and waited until I lighted Berenice's cigarette and mine before he continued。 He refused a cigarette by waving his hand。
〃What can I say to you； M。 Figueras； that would dissuade you from writing about me for your magazine？〃
〃Nothing； I'm afraid。 You make me feel like a plete bastard； but…〃
〃I'm sorry for your feelings。 But as a favor to me； do you have so much zeal that you must tell my address in your magazine？ Much privacy is needed for my work； as it is for all artists。 Every day I must work for at least four hours； and to have frequent interruptions…〃
〃That's no concession at all； sir。 I'll dateline my piece 'Somewhere in Florida。' I know how you feel； of course。 The Galt article was damned unfair to you； I know…〃
〃How do you know？〃 Again the sad； sweet smile。
〃I know Galt's attitude toward art； that's how I know。 He's got a one…track mental set。 He invariably puts everything he sees into a highly subjective pattern…whether it fits or not。
〃Is not all art subjective？〃
〃Yes。〃 I grinned。 〃But didn't Braque say that the subject was not the object？〃
〃Perhaps。 I don't know whether Braque said this himself； or whether some clever young man…a man like yourself； M。 Figueras…said that he said it。〃
〃I…I don't recall；〃 I replied lamely； 〃where the quote originated； not at the moment； but he is supposed to have said it himself。 And if not 。 。 。 well 。 。 。 the play on words has a subtle validity； for 。 。 。 the art of our times。 Don't you think 。 。 。 ？〃
〃The word 'validity' cannot be used validly for the art of any time。〃
I hesitated。 He was testing me。 By going into theoretical entebechy I could have answered him easily； but I didn't want to argue with him…I shrugged and smiled。
〃By validity；〃 he smiled back； 〃do you mean that the eye contains the incipient action？〃 The corners of his eyes wrinkled with amusement。
〃Not exactly； sir。 Cartesian dualism； as an approach to aesthetics； no longer has intrinsic value…and that's Galt's fault。 He has never been abbe to transcend his early training。 Not to be summational is the hardest task facing the contemporary critic。 To see the present alone； blocking out the past and future； calls for optic mediation。〃 My face grew warm under the force of his steady blue eyes。 〃I don't mean to run Galt down； sir； or to give you the impression that I'm a better critic than he is。 It's just that I'm twentyfive years younger than Galt； and I've looked at more contemporary art than he has…〃
〃Do not be so nervous； M。 Figueras。 （？）Debemos dar preferencia al hablar del espanol？〃
〃No。 I think in Spanish when I speak it； and I prefer to think in English and talk in French…〃
〃What are you talking about？〃 Berenice said； sipping from her glass。
〃The difference between Spanish and English and French；〃 I said。
〃I hate Spanish；〃 Berenice said； winking at me。 〃It's got too many words for bravery； which makes a person wonder sometimes about the true bravery of the Spanish character。〃
〃And French； I think；〃 Debierue said in English； 〃has too many words for love。〃 He reached over and touched my hair。 〃You have nice curly yellow hair； and she should not tease you。 e now； drink your orange juice。〃
The paternal touch of his hand unknotted my inner tenseness； and I realized that the old artist was trying to make things easier for me。 At any rate； my guilty feelings had been dissipated by his casual acceptance of both me and my professionalism。 My awe of the old painter was also going away。 I was still mightily impressed by him； and I felt that our conversation was going well
Any writer who is awed in the presence of the great or the near…great cannot function critically。 I respected Debierue enough to be wary； however； knowing that he was not an ingenuous man； knowing that he had survived as an individual all of these years by maintaining an aloof； if not an arrogant； silence； and a studied indifference to journalists。 Debierue realized； I think； that I was on his side； and that I would always take an artist's viewpoint before that of the insensitive public's。 He had read my work and he remembered my name。 I could therefore give him credit for knowing that I was as unbiased as any art critic can ever be。 To see his paintings； which was the major reason for my odyssey； I now had to gain his plete confidence。 I had to guard against my tendency to argue。 Nor should I bait him merely to obtain a few sensational opinions about art as 〃news。〃
〃I am curious about why you immigrated to Florida； M。 Debierue。〃
〃I almost didn't。 For my old bones； I wanted the sun。 Whe