Part 10
the young lady in the foreground in the blue outfit was Mary Magdalene, because if it
was, you were using your incipient genius somewhat more than your religious
inclinations, I am afraid. However, this is nothing to fear, in my opinion.
With sincere hope that you are enjoying completely perfect health, I am,
Very respectfully yours, (signed)
JEAN DE DAUMIER-SMITH Staff Instructor
Les Amis Des Vieux Maltres
P.S. I have nearly forgotten that students are supposed to submit envelopes every
second Monday to the school. For your first assignment will you kindly make some
outdoor sketches for me? Do them very freely and do not strain. I am unaware, of
course, how much time they give you for your personal drawing at your Convent and
hope you will advise me. Also I beg you to buy those necessary supplies I took the
liberty of advocating, as I would like you to begin using oils as soon as possible. If you
will pardon my saying so, I believe you are too passionate to paint just in watercolors
and never in oils indefinitely. I say that quite impersonally and do not mean to be
obnoxious; actually, it is intended as a compliment. Also please send me all of your old
former work that you have on hand, as I am eager to see it. The days will be
insufferable for me till your next envelope arrives, it goes without saying.
If it is not overstepping myself, I would greatly appreciate your telling me if you find
being a nun very satisfactory, in a spiritual way, of course. Frankly, I have been
studying various religions as a hobby ever since I read volumes 36, 44, 45 of the
Harvard Classics, which you may be acquainted with. I am especially delighted with
Martin Luther, who was a Protestant, of course. Please do not be offended by this. I
advocate no doctrine; it is not my nature to do so. As a last thought, please do not
forget to advise me as to your visiting hours, as my weekends are free as far as I know
and I may happen to be in your environs some Saturday by chance. Also please do not
forget to inform me if you have a reasonable command of the French language, as for all
intents and purposes I am comparatively speechless in English owing to my varied and
largely insensible upbringing.
I mailed my letter and drawings to Sister Irma around three-thirty in the morning,
going out to the street to do it. Then, literally overjoyed, I undressed myself with thick
fingers and fell into bed.
Just before I fell asleep, the moaning sound again came through the wall from the
Yoshotos' bedroom. I pictured both Yoshotos coming to me in the morning and asking
me, begging me, to hear their secret problem out, to the last, terrible detail. I saw
exactly how it would be. I would sit down between them at the kitchen table and listen
to each of them. I would listen, listen, listen, with my head in my hands--till finally,
unable to stand it any longer, I would reach down into Mme. Yoshoto's throat, take up
her heart in my hand and warm it as I would a bird. Then, when all was put right, I
would show Sister Irma's work to the Yoshotos, and they would share my joy.
The fact is always obvious much too late, but the most singular difference between
happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy a liquid. Mine started to seep
through its container as early as the next morning, when M. Yoshoto dropped by at my
desk with the envelopes of two new students. I was working on Bambi Kramer's
drawings at the time, and quite spleenlessly, knowing as I did that my letter to Sister
Irma was safely in the mail. But I was no where even nearly prepared to face the
freakish fact that there were two people in the world who had less talent for drawing
than either Bambi or R. Howard Ridgefield. Feeling virtue go out of me, I lit a cigarette
in the instructors' room for the first time since I'd joined the staff. It seemed to help,
and I turned back to Bambi's work. But before I'd taken more than three or four drags, I
felt, without actually glancing up and over, that M. Yoshoto was looking at me. Then,
for confirmation, I heard his chair being pushed back. As usual, I got up to meet him
when he came over. He explained to me, in a bloody irritating whisper, that he
the young lady in the foreground in the blue outfit was Mary Magdalene, because if it
was, you were using your incipient genius somewhat more than your religious
inclinations, I am afraid. However, this is nothing to fear, in my opinion.
With sincere hope that you are enjoying completely perfect health, I am,
Very respectfully yours, (signed)
JEAN DE DAUMIER-SMITH Staff Instructor
Les Amis Des Vieux Maltres
P.S. I have nearly forgotten that students are supposed to submit envelopes every
second Monday to the school. For your first assignment will you kindly make some
outdoor sketches for me? Do them very freely and do not strain. I am unaware, of
course, how much time they give you for your personal drawing at your Convent and
hope you will advise me. Also I beg you to buy those necessary supplies I took the
liberty of advocating, as I would like you to begin using oils as soon as possible. If you
will pardon my saying so, I believe you are too passionate to paint just in watercolors
and never in oils indefinitely. I say that quite impersonally and do not mean to be
obnoxious; actually, it is intended as a compliment. Also please send me all of your old
former work that you have on hand, as I am eager to see it. The days will be
insufferable for me till your next envelope arrives, it goes without saying.
If it is not overstepping myself, I would greatly appreciate your telling me if you find
being a nun very satisfactory, in a spiritual way, of course. Frankly, I have been
studying various religions as a hobby ever since I read volumes 36, 44, 45 of the
Harvard Classics, which you may be acquainted with. I am especially delighted with
Martin Luther, who was a Protestant, of course. Please do not be offended by this. I
advocate no doctrine; it is not my nature to do so. As a last thought, please do not
forget to advise me as to your visiting hours, as my weekends are free as far as I know
and I may happen to be in your environs some Saturday by chance. Also please do not
forget to inform me if you have a reasonable command of the French language, as for all
intents and purposes I am comparatively speechless in English owing to my varied and
largely insensible upbringing.
I mailed my letter and drawings to Sister Irma around three-thirty in the morning,
going out to the street to do it. Then, literally overjoyed, I undressed myself with thick
fingers and fell into bed.
Just before I fell asleep, the moaning sound again came through the wall from the
Yoshotos' bedroom. I pictured both Yoshotos coming to me in the morning and asking
me, begging me, to hear their secret problem out, to the last, terrible detail. I saw
exactly how it would be. I would sit down between them at the kitchen table and listen
to each of them. I would listen, listen, listen, with my head in my hands--till finally,
unable to stand it any longer, I would reach down into Mme. Yoshoto's throat, take up
her heart in my hand and warm it as I would a bird. Then, when all was put right, I
would show Sister Irma's work to the Yoshotos, and they would share my joy.
The fact is always obvious much too late, but the most singular difference between
happiness and joy is that happiness is a solid and joy a liquid. Mine started to seep
through its container as early as the next morning, when M. Yoshoto dropped by at my
desk with the envelopes of two new students. I was working on Bambi Kramer's
drawings at the time, and quite spleenlessly, knowing as I did that my letter to Sister
Irma was safely in the mail. But I was no where even nearly prepared to face the
freakish fact that there were two people in the world who had less talent for drawing
than either Bambi or R. Howard Ridgefield. Feeling virtue go out of me, I lit a cigarette
in the instructors' room for the first time since I'd joined the staff. It seemed to help,
and I turned back to Bambi's work. But before I'd taken more than three or four drags, I
felt, without actually glancing up and over, that M. Yoshoto was looking at me. Then,
for confirmation, I heard his chair being pushed back. As usual, I got up to meet him
when he came over. He explained to me, in a bloody irritating whisper, that he
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