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〃Originality； shit。 It's an overrated modity； you know that。 You can be a visionary painting Virgins。〃
〃That's what I'll do； then。 Virgins in any style。 I'll be celibate； and I'll paint Madonnas all day。 With child。 Without child。 Weeping。 Blissful。 I'll work my balls off； Kleiny； which'll be fine because I won't need them。〃
〃Forget the Virgins。 They're out of fashion。〃
〃They're forgotten。〃
〃Decadence is your strongest suit。〃
〃Whatever you want。 Say the word。〃
〃But don't fuck with me。 If I find a client and promise something to him； it's up to you to produce it。〃
〃I'm going back to the studio tonight。 I'm starting over。 Just do one thing for me？〃
〃What's that？〃
〃Burn the Poussin。〃
He had visited the studio on and off through his time with Vanessa…he'd even met Marline there on two occasions when her husband had canceled a Luxembourg trip and she'd been too heated to miss a liaison…but it was charmless and cheerless； and he'd returned happily to the house in Wimpole Mews。 Now； however； he weled the studio's austerity。 He turned on the little electric fire； made himself a cup of fake coffee with fake milk； and； under its influence； thought about deception。
The last six years of his life…since Judith； in fact…had been a series of duplicities。 This was not of itself disastrous…after tonight it would once more be his profess sion…but whereas painting had a tangible end result （two； if he included the repense）； pursuit and seduction always left him naked and empty…handed。 An end to that； tonight。 He made a vow； toasted in bad coffee； to the God of Forgers； whoever he was； to bee great。 If duplicity was his genius； why waste it on deceiving husbands and mistresses？ He should turn it to a profounder end； produc ing masterpieces in another man's name。 Time would validate him； the way Klein had said it would： uncover his many works and show him； at last； as the visionary he was about to bee。 And if it didn't…if Ktein was wrong and his handiwork remained undiscovered forever…then that was the truest vision of all。 Invisible； he would be seen； un known； he'd be influential。 It was enough to make him for get women entirely。 At least for tonight。
3
AT DUSK THE CLOUDS OVER MANHATTAN； which had threatened snow all day； cleared and revealed a pristine sky； its color so ambiguous it might have fueled a philosophical debate as to the nature of blue。 Laden as she was with her day's purchases； Jude chose to walk back to Marlin's apartment at Park Avenue and 80th。 Her arms ached； but it gave her time to turn over in her head the encounter which had marked the day and decide whether she wanted to share it with Martin or not。 Unfortunately； he had a lawyer's mind： at best； cool and analytical； at worst； reductionist。 She knew herself well enough to know that if he challenged her account in the latter mode she'd almost certainly lose her temper with him； and then the atmosphere between them； which had been （with the exception of his overtures） so easy and undemanding； would be spoiled。 It was better to work out what she believed about the events of the previous two hours before she shared it with Marlin。 Then he could dissect it at will。
Already； after going over the encounter a few times； it was being； like the blue overhead； ambiguous。 But she held on hard to the facts of the matter。 She'd been in the menswear department of Bloomingdale's； looking for a sweater for Marlin。 It was crowded； and there was nothing on display that she thought appropriate。 She'd started to pick up the purchases at her feet when she'd caught sight of a face she knew； looking straight at her through the moving mesh of people。 How long had she seen the face for？ A second； two at most？ Long enough for her heart to jump and her face to flush； long enough for her mouth to open and shape the word Gentle。 Then the traffic between them had thickened； and he'd disappeared。 She'd fixed the place where he'd been； stooped to pick up her baggage； and gone after him； not doubting that it was he。
The crowd slowed her progress； but she soon caught sight of him again； heading towards the door。 This time she yelled his name； not giving a damn if she looked a fool； and dove after him。 She was impressive in full flight； and the crowd yielded； so that by the time she reached the door he was only yards away。 Third Avenue was as thronged as the store； but there he was； heading across the street。 The lights changed as she got to the curb。 She went after him anyway； daring the traffic。 As she yelled again he was buffeted by a shopper； on some business as urgent as hers； and he turned as he was struck； giving her a second glimpse of him。 She might have laughed out loud at the absurdity of her error had it not disturbed her so。 Either she was losing her mind； or she'd followed the wrong man。 Either way； this black man； his ringleted hair gleaming on his shoulders； was not Gentle。 Momentarily undecided as to whether to go on looking or to give up the chase there and then； her eyes lingered on the stranger's face； and for a heartbeat or less his features blurred and in their flux； caught as if by the sun off a wing in the stratosphere； she saw Gentle； his hair swept back from his high forehead； his gray eyes al！ yearning； his mouth； which she'd not known she missed till now； ready to break into a smile。 It never came。 The wing dipped； the stranger turned； Gentle was gone。 She stood in the throng for several seconds while he disappeared downtown。 Then； gathering herself together； she turned her back on the mystery and started home。
It didn't leave her thoughts； of course。 She was a woman who trusted her senses； and to discover them so deceptive distressed her。 But more vexing still was why it should be that particular face； of all those in her memory's catalogue； she'd chosen to configure from that of a perfect stranger。 Klein's Bastard Boy was out of her life； and she out of his。 It was six years since she'd crossed the bridge from where they'd stood together； and the river that flowed between was a torrent。 Her marriage to Estabrook had e and gone along that river； and a good deal of pain with it。 Gentle was still on the other shore； part of her history： irretrievable。 So why had she conjured him now？
As she came within a block of Marlin's building she remembered something she'd utterly put out of her head for that six…year span。 It had been a glimpse of Gentle； not so unlike the one she'd just had； that had propelled her into her near…suicidal affair with him。 She'd met him at one of Klein's parties…a casual encounter…and had given him very little conscious thought subsequently。 Then； three nights later； she'd been visited by an erotic dream that regularly haunted her。 The scenario was always the same。 She was lying naked on bare boards in an empty room； not bound but somehow bounded； and a man whose face she could never see； his mouth so sweet it was like eating candy to kiss him； made violent Jove to her。 Only this time the fire that burned in the grate close by showed her the face of her dream lover； and it had been Gentle's face。 The shock； after so many years of never knowing who the man was； woke her； but with such a sense of loss at