Editorial
May the reader use discerment
Poems
The Giants
and the Dwarfs
heart of darkness
The Wanderer
A chocolate room
Relay
Writing
Cafe Evergreen (3)
Multilingual
Page
German:
origin of English
Guest
Writers' Corner
Wondering
Novel
Adonis Blue (4)
(Continued from the Last Page >>)
At that night the
two talked till late in Eugene’s room, not the one exclusively prepared
for the guest.
Eugene’s eyes, without any signs of doubt, made Jeanne open up and
talk frankly.
It was nearly dawn when he entered his prepared room and slipped into
the bed.
When he got up next
morning, Eugene had already gone to school.
As he opened the door, a maid handed out him newly made white clothes.
It was felt
as an imperative to him.
He took it,
and the maid left the door.
He wore the clothes,
came out of the room and stepped on the long corridor, then Eugene’s
mother showed up out of thin air.
‘Oh you woke up right now! Please come over here, I will get breakfast
for you’
Being guided and
entering the reception room he received a welcome in yesterday, he was
ushered to the head table.
On the table was a steaming hot breakfast: its volume and lavishness far
exceeded a serving for just one person.
‘Now please help yourself as much as you please’ said she, and
sat down next to his seat.
As he started eating breakfast, she was gazing at him very blissfully.
‘Well, Madame’
‘Oh no, not Madame, could you please call me Marie?’
‘Well’
‘And, then,
er, when you finish your breakfast, well, I would like to get right down,
to talk about…’
‘About arts?’
‘Yes! I am wondering about the very issue.
How quick-witted and keen-sighted you are!
And, er…well, would you mind if I have your name…’
‘My name?’
‘Oh, well, could I please call you Sir or teacher…?’
He lifted his head
and looked at her.
The glance wholly whipped her up.
A middle aged woman, and the boy of an age of her son, sixteen. It is
a jocose picture of a student and a teacher — an effervescing woman
for her age.
‘I don’t
mind it’ he replied without tuning in to her high emotion.
‘Wow, I am so delighted, then I call you teacher.
Dear Sir, please ask me anything you like’
He finished breakfast.
‘Thank you but I’ve had enough’
‘Oh dear, Sir, do not hesitate so much and please take more’
‘No, I’m not used to eating that much’
No sooner than he said so, all the dishes were cleared immediately by
the hands of a maid.
Then he was shown
into the atelier. It was a large, almost blank space filled with bright
sunlight from wide windows.
‘So Madame’
‘Shall you call me Marie?’
‘Oh, yes, then Marie’
‘How can I help you, Sir?’
‘Well…may I ask you where your husband is?’
Her frisky look turned pale for a second, but it instantly returned to
all smiles.
‘He will not come back’
‘Oh will he not?’
‘He is now in London. But he will not return here even during holidays’
‘Is that …?’
‘It is not a matter of time or money. I will never wait him returning’
‘You…?’
‘He doesn’t know anything: anything about me painting pictures,
Eugene being a good boy, and what I place importance on.'
She took a breath, and gazed at him, all smiles.
‘Dear Sir, you have no need to think about such a thing. You may
just teach me arts whereas Eugene is out in school. I shall not let anyone
subordinate come in but just the two of us alone’
‘You dropped
your keys’
He said without changing his expression.
‘Oh dear Sir, I thank you so much for telling me that’
When she picked up her keys from off the floor, she noticed him looking
at canvases, matiere and other art tools with his beautiful eyes.
After he was released from the after-the-lunch lecture, Eugene came back
home.
‘Hello, Jeanne. How do you like this house?’
Jeanne gave Eugene a wry smile.
‘It’s a bit of a gilded cage and a little too ostentatious for
my liking; such clean clothes makes me uneasy, cos I’ve always been
living freely no under the roof, I can’t help but going out and having
some short breaks’
To Jeanne, who shrugged his shoulders and reached out his old coat, Eugene
gave a word.
‘I’ll follow you’
Eugene was a prodigious boy.
An once-off explanation was enough for him to comprehend completely and
acquire swiftly.
He gripped a conté while following Jeanne with a painting too his
side, and could paint a clone immediately right there.
‘You’re deft of hand too, eh?’
‘But it isn’t any good’
‘How come?’
‘A sharp debris makes you hard to live’
‘A well…’
‘Cos it hurts you if you touch it, so everyone makes a great business
of it. School doesn’t interest me either. My mum’s waiting for
me to turn out well as much as or more than my dad is – a doctor,
a diplomat, a lawyer, a scientist, an engineer and so on– but I don’t
wanna be anything’
‘Anything?’
‘If I were to say only one, I wanna be like you’ So said Eugene,
and he showed his unsullied smile. ‘Ah, now I wanna be that fallen
leaf blown in the wind here and there.’ He said and started painting
foliage fluttering down on the pavement.
‘I ask teachers questions, the ones not in textbooks. Cos learning
is not something jamming cut-and-dried phrases from textbooks. Then…’
‘Then?’
‘Most of teachers get upset cos they can’t answer and feel embarrassed.
What they say is unreasonable, and turn down my questions as ridiculous.
Some young female teachers burst into tears’
‘What about other guys?’
‘They don’t care as I’m making trouble again. Their interests
are just to become those brass hats and to earn money by becoming so.
These guys and adults around don’t see the more important things.
They are only concerned with the wrinkles on my brain, in other words,
how much money they can make’
‘So’
Eugene found Jeanne having painted a rainbow arching right in front of
their eyes. It must be a trace of the rain which was over before they
went out.
‘Jeanne, your sky – it’s beautiful’
‘A nice blue sky, eh?’
‘Yup. – Jeanne, I now realised the sky is so high. It’s
immense, boundless, unendingly lofty – we are no different to itsy-bitsy
ants. You know Jeanne, thanks to you, I can look up into the sky without
any thought – that’s the way to approach the sky as close as
possible, and to become one’
Her ardent eyes were cast upon on his moving hand, and, more on his unchanged
face. Softly brimming, light rays of the afternoon sun. A white, vaulted
room. White canvases, painting tools and picture frames cluttered all
over the place. Hot breath escaped from her lips from time to time. Two
entirely drowned eyes in an ecstasy. That heat failed to affect two other
cold eyes. No sound can be heard except for the two people. A dead premise.
It even seemed this world had already ended.
‘Ah, dear sir’
‘What’s the matter with you, – ‘
‘Call me Marie’
‘Yes’
‘How’s that?’
‘Good’
‘Dear my master, how’s this…’
A white, plumpy hand touched a button on the clothes.
‘Don’t move’
‘Why, you shall not be so humble’
‘The picture is nearly finished; I can’t now afford a change
in the composition any more’
(Continued to the Next Page >>)
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