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~aris-the Survivor-Maryan The evening that we returned from Utrecht to Paris and the Royal Hotel, we took an after-dinner stroll down the nearby Boulevard des Champs-Elysees. A man arose from a sidewalk cafe and approached me saying, "Kaufman, you don't know me in Paris? I knew you in Brazil." He was Senhor Mizne, a so-called architect who passed off work ofyoung architects as his own. Henrique Mindlin had told us about him. His game plan was to persuade Parisian art dealers to give him valuable impressionist or postimpressionist paintings in exchange for a flat on Rio de Janeiro's Copacabana beach, a safe haven ifthere was a communist takeover ofla belle France! Not a likely prospect! We accepted his invitation to join him and his pianist wife, Felicja Blumental (both were Polish), for tea. Mizne continued, "Kaufman, my wife is a great pianist and I'm anxious for her to have a fine career. We visited an impresario in London, who advised me she should do something spectacular, like playing all five Beethoven concertos with a London orchestra in one season. What do you think?" I asked, "Does she know all five concertos?" Mizne replied, "No. But I can take her to Vienna for three months and she can learn them." Felicja seemed to take as dim a view of this as we did. (Several months later in London we noticed Felicja was scheduled to playa Rachmaninoff concerto . We attended, but poor Felicja, paralyzed by stage fright, played uncertainly and wandered off into silence. Heartsick at her misery we did not go backstage, but fled from the Royal Festival Hall. The reviews were courteous- the London Times wrote, "Miss B would be well advised to use a score in future performance.") The commercially minded Senhor Mizne continued, "Kaufman, I've heard you have an art collection and know a lot about art. I've been told of • A Fiddler's Tale Burstein, a young Polish artist in Montparnasse, and I'd like to have you visit his studio with us tomorrow afternoon." Thinking it might be interesting , I replied, "I've an auto and we'll pick you up at your hotel." The Miznes were staying at the elegant Parc Monceau hotel near us, and at 2 P.M. the next afternoon we called for them and drove to Montparnasse . The French government had closed all brothels at the end of World War II and turned one huge barrack-type brothel, "Le Sphinx," into small studios for poor young artists. We scanned the list ofdwellers, found Burstein, mounted the stairs, and knocked on the door. It was opened part-way by a thin youngJewish lad with a crutch. He'd lost a leg. I inquired in French, "We would like very much to see your work." He let us follow him single file into the cell-like atelier containing a single bed on the right, across from a wash basin and bidet on the left, separated from the room by a curtain. At the far end of the room a window faced a brick wall but gave adequate light. A table and chair were in front of the window. A few paintings and a large black portfolio were leaning against the left wall. Burstein placed the portfolio on the table to display its contents-thirty or forty drawings, watercolors, and gouaches. Mizne, impressed by my obvious interest in Burstein's work, signed with his first name, Maryan, suddenly said to the quiet lad, "I'll give you five hundred francs for the whole lot!" (about one hundred dollars). Maryan's sad blue eyes became steely; he closed the portfolio and replied with quiet fury, "I'd kill myself first." Anger filled the small room; we could only leave in silence. I deposited the Miznes at their hotel. Then I sent Maryan a pneumatique (intracity message sent through tubes) from the post office across the street from our hotel. A nearby cafe delivered my message to Burstein, since he did not have a telephone. He called and I asked, "May my wife and I visit you tomorrow? We admire your work very much." He politely agreed. The next afternoon I bought four of Maryan's oil paintings at the prices he asked. I also bought two copies of a series of lithographs he made illustrating Franz Kafka's The Trial, in memory of his father, mother, sister, and brother, who had perished in Auschwitz. This...

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