This is Me, Jack Vance by Jack Vance

Author:Jack Vance [Vance, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Autobiography
ISBN: 9780575109940
Publisher: Hachette Littlehampton
Published: 2011-09-28T22:00:00+00:00

There is no question but that Mr. Lightbody was an extraordinary person. The next day he left Jersey, and Gordon and I never learned what had become of him.

It was time for Norma and me to resume our homeward journey. We took leave of the Sandranne Bed & Breakfast, Gordon, Mr. Lightbody and the Star Hotel in Jersey, and traveled to Paris, where we would spend two or three days before taking the boat train to Le Havre. We thought to look up Stefan, the painter we had met in Positano, and learned that he was ill in the hospital. We rushed to visit him, and found him recuperating from a kidney stone operation. He insisted that we go to his studio and inspect his work, which was being assembled in preparation for a show. He gave us the address and telephone number of his patroness, who agreed to meet us at the studio and show us the paintings. We followed these instructions, took ourselves to this address, rang the bell, and the door was opened by a middle-aged lady, nicely dressed, gray-haired, who welcomed us into the studio and showed us the paintings. Then she served us tea. This was Stefan’s patroness. Her name was the Baroness de Rothschild!

It now amuses me to mention that while we were in Paris for a few days, we only met one person there.

“Oh?” comes the question, “Who was that?”

“Didn’t I say? It was the Baroness de Rothschild.”

So then—never mind the raised eyebrows, nor the sidelong looks of incredulity; these are the bare cold facts.

We had arrived in Paris practically broke, with only enough money to keep us alive and take us to the boat train. Stefan’s girlfriend, Claire, insisted on showing us the Parisian night life, a plan to which we were forced to accede. She took us to a cabaret where we were obliged to buy brandies, thereby using the money we had reserved for our meals. Thus thanks to Claire’s hospitality we nearly starved during the rest of our stay in Paris. On the transatlantic voyage back to the States, we had no choice but to slink off the ship without tipping the stewards and waiters, who doubtless must have pegged me for a cheap SOB.

We checked into the Royalton Hotel opposite the Algonquin, where we scraped together enough money to buy ourselves beer at the bar. We dined on the free peanuts. Next morning we went to the office of Scott Meredith, my agent, where we were happy to learn that there was money waiting for us, as well as an offer of new work. Euphoria! I was sent to the office of Olga Druce, television producer.

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