A Devil in Paradise (New Directions Bibelot) by Henry Miller

Author:Henry Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-8112-2402-4
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 1956-08-29T16:00:00+00:00

The afternoon wore on. Moricand retired to his cell. Leon took us up to inspect his new car, which could do ninety per in nothing flat Suddenly he remembered that he had some toys for Val in the back of the car. “Where’s Bufano these days?” says he, fishing around in the trunk.

“Gone to India, I think.”

“To see Nehru, I bet!” He chuckled. “How that guy gets around without a cent in his pockets beats me. By the way, what are you doing for money these days?”

With this he dives into his pants pocket, hauls out a wad of greenbacks fastened with a clip, and begins peeling off a few.

“Here, take this,” he says, shoving the greenbacks in my fist. “I’ll probably owe you money before I leave.”

“Have you anything good to read?” he asks suddenly. “Like that Giono book you lent me, remember? What about that guy Cendrars you’re always pissing in the pants about? Has any of his stuff been translated yet?” He threw another half-finished Havana away, crushed it under his heel, and lit a fresh one. “I suppose you think I never look at a book. You’re wrong. I read plenty…. Some day you’re going to write a script for me—and earn some real dough. By the way”—he jerked his thumb in the direction of Moricand’s studio—“is that guy taking you for a lot of dough? You’re a chump. How did you ever fall into the trap?”

I told him it was a long story … some other time.

“What about those drawings of his? Should I have a look? He wants to sell them, I suppose? I wouldn’t mind taking some—if it would help you out…. Wait a minute, I want to take a crap first.”

When he returned he had a fresh cigar in his mouth. He was looking roseate.

“There’s nothing like a good crap,” he said, beaming. “Now let’s visit that sad-looking bimbo. And fetch Lilik, will you? I want his opinion before I let myself in for anything.”

As we entered Moricand’s cell Leon sniffed the air. “For Christ’s sake, make him open a window!” he exclaimed.

“Can’t, Leon. He’s afraid of draughts.”

“Just like him, for crying out loud. O.K. Tell him to trot his dirty pictures out—and make it snappy, eh? I’ll puke up if we have to stay here more than ten minutes.”

Moricand proceeded to get out his handsome leather portfolio. He placed it circumspectly before him, then calmly lit a gauloise bleue.

“Ask him to put it out,” begged Leon. He drew a pack of Chesterfields from his pocket and offered Moricand one. Moricand politely refused, saying he couldn’t stand American cigarettes.

“He’s nuts!” said Leon. “Here!” and he proffered Moricand a big cigar.

Moricand declined the offer. “I like these better,” he said, brandishing his foul French cigarette.

“If that’s how it is, fuck it!” said Leon. “Tell him to get going. We can’t waste the whole afternoon in this tomb.”

But Moricand wasn’t to be hurried. He had his own peculiar way of presenting his work. He allowed no one to touch the drawings.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.