Carolyn explains to Paul what she believes to be the role of a wife, and why it is important to be sure that her husband died at sea - and did not leave her..
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Chronology of Events
New York City - en route to Brazil
Tuesday, October 4
Late getting into New York, but still managed the gallery date with Carolyn. The exhibition was definitely worth cutting corners to see. I liked much of what was on exhibition.
But Carolyn was overwhelmed by a single primitive titled East of the Equator by an artist named Da Silva, and bought it on the spot because it was so much like her husband's paintings. The verdict having been lost at sea, she isn't really sure he is dead.
Neither of us had enough knowledge to tell whether this new picture could have been painted by the same artist as those in her apartment, so I rang Kate to find out whom to ask.
We'd had a long call right after the race, and with Carolyn beside me, I kept things light, though it was obvious that Kate was suffering greatly, Armand's every organ and system weaker than the day before.
When I asked if she wanted me to come to Paris, she declined. At the end of the call,feeling some embarrassment over the triviality of the matter, I explained that, for a serious personal reason, Rachel's friend needed a primitive analysed, and Kate instantly named a man at Columbia.
Soon as I mentioned her name to him, he was over to Carolyn's in a flash - but really couldn't provide the answer she was looking for. So we placed a call to the art dealer in Brazil who had supplied the picture.
But Carolyn seemed too upset to ask any relevant questions. This woman who seemed so confident and clever at the race has turned to jelly at the sight of that painting. My heart went out to her. There seemed no doubt that the only thing was to go to Belim.
I rang Kate just before our flight took off to let her know that I'd be in Brazil, and learned that Armand had grown worse in the night. She thanked me politely for my concern, but was a million miles away.
Paul visits an art gallery with Carolyn Willins who buys a picture in the primitive style of her husband who was apparently lost at sea.
An art expert is unsure if this is possible, and Paul suggests that they fly to Brazil to track down the artist.
Wednesday, October 5
The art dealer was most suspicious, and unwilling to be of any help in finding this Da Silva who painted East of the Equator, and Carolyn seemed ready to turn around and fly back with discouragement when she saw a sculpture.
With certainty, she declared the self portrait, also by Da Silva, to be an image of her husband, over dinner declaring how desperately she wanted to pursue the matter. But realistically, we have nowhere to go from here.
The owner of the gallery in Belim where the picture came from is uncooperative, but Carolyn sees a sculpture by the same artist, and believes it to be the image of her husband.
Thursday, October 6
Woken up in the middle of the night by the art dealer who pronounced Carolyn to be crazy. But in his version of logic, that also meant that he was willing to provide Da Silva's address in Minaus.
We took the early morning flight here, but Da Silva was no longer at the address Klein gave me. The apartment manager was as uncooperative as the gallery owner, but cash showed he knew exactly where we could find the man.
Carolyn, sensing she might at last be coming face to face with her husband - and living with another woman too - became very tense.
But Da Silva was not Jeffrey Willins. Despite this, Carolyn's distress seemed to heighten, and she was desperate to leave Brazil immediately.
I'd noted there was no sign of artists' materials around Da Silva's small room, but with Carolyn so anxious to get out of there, it seemed just as well not to pursue the matter.
She booked a flight to New York for the morning, and I found out that what she really wanted was not to find her husband alive, but to dispel the possibility that he might still be - meaning that he had left her.
Felt we'd come too far to leave this burning question in her mind, and thought Da Silva should be probed some more. Carolyn agreed, and decided to accept whatever fate brought at the end of the journey.
When I accosted Da Silva outside his place, he admitted not being a painter, but rather a metallurgical engineer who'd bought the pictures while prospecting in the jungle - but not from the artist, only at a trading post.
The lure of money turned Da Silva into a friendly man, and he will take us into the jungle tomorrow - if Carolyn wants.
The gallery owner relents and provides an address for the artist, but the man turns out to be only someone who bought the picture in a jungle trading post, and signed his name to it.
But he agrees to take Paul and Carolyn to the post to investigate further.
in the Brazilian jungle
Friday - Sunday, October 7 - 9
Da Silva chartered a seaplane, and a boat to bring us to the trading post where he'd obtained the art works, also taking advantage of the flight we were paying for to do some prospecting along the river.
The breathtaking fauna and flora we saw were my reward for the effort made on Carolyn's behalf. To have been spared time to see these sights is something I will give thanks for each day I have to live.
For the sophisticated New Yorker Carolyn, however, this glorious and hypnotising place with a million things to offer had “nothing.” She sees everything through her bruised ego.
At the trading post, there was another of the primitives which had recently been brought in, and I found out the painting for which Carolyn had paid $1,200, and was sold to Klein for $100 had cost the trader $5.
He made us a simple map of the way to the settlement where the artist lived, and we found Jeffrey Willins just after nightfall.
Here was a man who believed himself to be hidden in the deepest and most obscure jungle - and yet, his wife had found him. I spoke with him briefly, and he identified himself with a native name that meant The Lonely Man, then dismissed me, offering his house for the night.
He talked privately then with Carolyn, but she conveyed little of what they'd said, only that he quoted Freud as stating civilization was based on guilt.
The only sign we saw of him in the morning was the manuscript he has been writing, with a note to take it to his lawyer.
Carolyn's melancholy was clear as we cruised back along the river to the trading post. I tried to comfort her, and say that she knew now that she was no longer married.
But she insisted that marriage was the proof of a woman's existence, and its failure was her failure - but for men, something not really wanted.
The ideas stayed in my head, and I wondered if the women in my life thought that way. It seemed the converse of how I would see them, but maybe …..
Having accepted the most dismal epitaph in the prime of life, Carolyn then began looking at the thick manuscript Jeffrey wanted published. She was entranced with the language, and I was surprised that she didn't realize it was a quotation from Thoreau's Walden.
Then I looked through the pages, and saw that he had written down the text of that magnificent book from memory. Not a word was original.
I told Carolyn that Jeffrey had lost his mind, and her tears began to fall with more understanding than she'd been capable of only moments before.
We stayed the night at the relatively comfortable settlement where the seaplane picked us up in the morning, and brought us back to Minaus.
Carolyn was mostly quiet, but somehow I think she is coming to terms with the misguided ideas she's been carrying with her so many years.
They locate the husband who has left civilization because it is based on guilt, but Carolyn is devastated that he left her,
The husband leaves a manuscript he has been working on, and wants published. But it is only the text of Thoreau's Walden. Carolyn finally realizes that her husband is insane, and her own guilt begins to lessen in her sorrow for her husband
Minaus - Rio de Janeiro - en route to San Francisco
Monday, October 10
We've booked a flight to Rio, and on to New York where I'll see Carolyn home, and then get a flight to Paris.
She had a very cathartic conversation with me (meaning she did all the talking) last night, and I really think she is going to be all right.
However, Carolyn says she won't try on her own, and that is more good sense. Over our time together in Brazil she had become a less and less appealing person, and I was beginning to understand why her husband ran away.
But now I am again seeing the vital woman I met at the Grand Prix, and can only wish her the best of everything.
It might have been expected, but still, it is a terrible shock. Armand is dead. It was the first thing Marcella said when I rang her from Rio.
Apparently, Alice and Molly flew to Paris, and brought Kate back to San Francisco after the funeral. Carolyn is understanding, and will fly back to New York on her own, and I'm getting the next connection home.
Trying to put down my thoughts, and find it impossible. My confused feelings about this man who was my rival - as if I could ever have been a rival to him. He had everything, but most of all integrity and kindness.
The two years Kate and I were together, I never realized the true depth of their relationship, the national celebrity status she had being with him, the incredible financial wealth he possessed.
Kate referred to him so seldom before our engagement. It was only from Molly that I knew anything, and all the while, they spoke on the phone every day.
It was only on after the Formula 1 laundh Kate told me about Armand's unbelievable role in the Resistance, how he and Odette had been a virtual free-lance bombing pair, crisscrossing the country doing inestimable damage to Nazi efforts.
All I'd known was that during her time in Paris, Kate had had a romance with a French businessman who'd taken his wife back after a suicide attempt following the end of an extra-marital affair.
The mild jealousy - and vague sense there was still something between them - was increased when I first met him. So handsome, so worldly, so charming, I couldn't but resent him.
How those feelings have unravelled as I knew more about the man, spent a little time with him, and learned of the infinite love and respect expressed by everyone who's spoken of him.
During our recent days in Zermatt I came to care for him as a brother or father, Armand's presence such a warming combination of intensity and lightness. And how much it seemed that he wanted me to live.
11 - 24 October 1966 ("The Killing Scene")
Paul learns that Kate's beloved Armand de Martignac is dead, and heads for San Francisco to be with her.