As high summer arrived in Rio, Bel found that without her mother at home, and with her father at the office from dawn until dusk, she had far more freedom than usual. Loen, who had entered a slough of despondency since leaving Bruno behind to return to Rio, would accompany Bel to the little station and take the train up the mountain to see how theCristoproject was progressing. They could see from the viewing platform the hive of activity the site was becoming; great iron bars were being hoisted into place and it was now possible to make out the shape of the cross.
Watching its progress comforted Bel. Since her time at thefazenda, she felt more at peace with the fact that no matter what Laurent thought of her, or whether he loved her, she would always love him. She’d understood that trying to fight it was simply impossible. So, she had surrendered and accepted, knowing she’d harbour her love for Laurent secretly in her heart for the rest of her life.
33
Paris, December 1928
‘So, they are finished and ready to be chopped into pieces and shipped off to that great coffee factory of a country across the seas,’ declared Landowski as he studied the head and hands of Christ, which now took up every spare inch of space in theatelier.
Landowski wandered about the head, studying it thoughtfully. ‘The chin still concerns me. From this distance it sticks out from the rest of his face like a giant slide, but the crazy Brazilian tells me this is how he wishes it.’
‘It will be seen from a great distance, remember, professor,’ commented Laurent.
‘His Father in heaven only knows if my masterpiece will make it safely to Rio de Janeiro,’ Landowski grumbled. ‘The Brazilian is arranging a passage on a cargo ship for it. Let us hope that the seas are calm and another container in the hold does not smash into my creation. I would go with it if I could, to oversee the shipping and to observe the early stages of construction, but I simply cannot spare the time. This project has already taken up twice the time it was meant to and I still have the commission of Sun Yat-sen to complete, which is already considerably behind schedule. Well,’ he sighed, ‘I have done what I can and now it is out of my control.’
As Laurent listened to Landowski, the tiniest seed of an idea sprouted in his mind. He kept it to himself, wanting to think it through before he suggested it.
The following day, Heitor da Silva Costa came to theatelier, and the two men decided where and how the head should be cut into pieces. Laurent listened as Landowski again voiced his concerns about the safety of the sculpture moulds on their journey.
‘You’re right,’ agreed Heitor. ‘There should be someone to check them regularly in the hold, but I simply cannot spare any of my team to make the journey. My draftsmen here are not yet finished.’
‘I could go,’ said Laurent suddenly, voicing the idea that had been growing in his mind since the previous day.
Both men turned to him in surprise. ‘You, Brouilly? But I thought you were wedded to the streets of Montparnasse and your hectic social life here,’ said Landowski.
‘Sadly, I’ve never had the opportunity to travel outside of France before, professor. Perhaps a few months abroad in such an exotic country would expand my artistic horizons and inspire me.’
‘Then you will return to make a great sculpture of a coffee bean, no doubt,’ Landowski quipped.
‘Senhor Brouilly,’ said Heitor, ‘if you are serious, then I think it would be an excellent idea. You have been present since the inception of the structure. In fact, your own hands have contributed to parts of it. If the professor can spare you, you could be his eyes in Rio as we construct it.’
‘And ensure that a finger does not end up stuck on Our Lord’s nose as they fit the pieces together,’ Landowski mumbled under his breath.
‘I’m happy to go if you wish it, professor,’ Laurent reiterated. ‘When would we sail, Monsieur da Silva Costa?’
‘I have a passage booked for next week, which should give us time to cut and then wrap the moulds securely in their crates. The sooner they reach Rio, and we have all the parts safely delivered, the happier I will be. Are you able to travel at such short notice, Monsieur Brouilly?’ asked Heitor.
‘I am sure he will have to consult his diary to see if he can move some of his upcoming commissions back,’ said Landowski, throwing Laurent a glance which told him to be silent. ‘Presumably, there will be some financial recompense for his travels and the loss of his time? For example, bed and board?’
‘Of course,’ agreed Heitor quickly. ‘And in fact, that reminds me, I had a telephone call a few days ago from Gustavo Aires Cabral, Izabela Bonifacio’s fiancé. He’s heard about the sculpture you did of her, Senhor Brouilly, and would like to present it to his wife-to-be as a wedding gift. I said I would ask you whether you were willing to sell?’
‘I . . .’
Laurent was just about to say that under no circumstances would he ever sell the sculpture of his precious Izabela to her fiancé, when Landowski cut in on him.
‘What a shame, and just as you had found a wealthy buyer here, Brouilly. Have you accepted his offer?’
Confused, Laurent replied, ‘No, I . . .’
‘Well then, perhaps Mademoiselle Bonifacio’s fiancé would like to make a better one, and you can decide. You said you’d been offered two thousand francs, is that correct?’ Landowski shot a further glance at Laurent, willing him to play along.
‘Yes.’
‘So, Heitor, tell this Monsieur Aires Cabral that if he is prepared to offer more, and cover the shipping costs to Rio, then the sculpture can be his.’
‘I will,’ said Heitor, his expression showing that he wasn’t remotely interested in haggling over the price of someone else’s sculpture when he had his own to think about. ‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem. So, I will come tomorrow and see how you are progressing with our giant jigsaw puzzle. Good day to you both.’ Heitor nodded at them and left theatelier.
‘Professor, what was that all about?’ Laurent asked. ‘I have no buyer for Mademoiselle Izabela’s sculpture. And in fact, had no thought of selling it.’
