Van Gogh, Don't Cut Off Your Ear! Your Top Trader Is Here

Chapter 2 The Hunt

"Spare Paul!" Van Gogh roared angrily.

"Armand? Spare Paul Gauguin?" Marcel was stunned.

"I'm Marcel, here to fix the chimney, not one of Armand's men." Marcel tried to calm this artist on the verge of collapse.

Only then did Van Gogh remember that his landlord Marie Ginoux had mentioned yesterday that she had arranged for a worker to come repair the chimney today.①

Taking advantage of this moment, Marcel quickly sorted through the situation.

From the artist's confused words and previous street rumors, he pieced together the truth:

Armand was that burly man who had just arrived from Paris, living at 1 Boulevard Street.

As soon as he arrived in Arles, he began asking around for a painter named Pierre.

Street gossip said that Armand was a loan shark's enforcer, who had come to Arles to collect a debt—one thousand francs owed by Pierre.

And that "Pierre" was Gauguin!

Gauguin had used the alias "Pierre" to borrow money from loan sharks in Paris, then fled and hid, with Armand pursuing him all the way to Arles.

No wonder Gauguin always carried a sword.

When he stormed out earlier, he had taken the sword with him too.

Armand had already come looking, threatening to take one of Gauguin's ears.

It was the gang's rule—when they found someone hiding from debt, if the person couldn't repay, they would first cut off one ear as punishment, to make an example.

Cutting off the ear was the punishment; repaying the thousand francs within ten days was the ultimatum.

Van Gogh, this madman, actually wanted to cut off his own ear to take on this bloody debt for Gauguin!

Marcel never expected that stopping Van Gogh from cutting his ear would drag him into an even bigger whirlpool!

And it involved the mob!

"Armand, that butcher, hasn't come knocking yet, has he? Paul is already gone! What good would cutting off your ear do now, except make you disabled?"

"You don't understand!" Van Gogh shook his head violently, his disheveled red hair swaying, his sunken eye sockets filled with the despair of a cornered beast. "Armand only recognizes ears! He keeps his word! Without an ear, he'll kill Paul! Paul left, but how far can he go? Armand's men are stationed at ports and train stations throughout the south! Only an ear... only my ear can draw them away! Give Paul a chance to board a ship!"

His words were chaotic but stubborn, willing to mutilate himself for the friend who had just abandoned him and called him a madman!

"Listen, sir!" Marcel stepped forward, gripping Van Gogh's thin shoulders firmly with both hands, trying to convey some stability through physical contact. "Keep your ear! It will guide you to create masterpieces that will shock the world!"

He had to throw out more powerful information to restrain this mad soul.

"Masterpieces? My paintings are worthless!" Van Gogh clutched his head in anguish.

"Please believe me, I know more than you imagine! You painted those sunflowers to decorate Mr. Gauguin's room, didn't you? To give him a surprise?"②

Van Gogh's head snapped up, the madness in his eyes replaced by astonishment.

This secret—he had never told anyone.

Marcel struck while the iron was hot: "You even planned that after cutting off your ear, you would give it to a lady named Rachel to deliver to Armand, didn't you?"③

Van Gogh was even more amazed!

This young man could see into people's hearts—did he know magic?!

"You... who exactly are you?!"

Just then, "Bang! Bang bang bang!"

Sudden violent pounding erupted outside, so forceful that the entire yellow house seemed to shake.

"Open up! Pierre! I know you're in there! Stop hiding like a sewer rat!"

It was Armand!

He had come!

The muscles in Van Gogh's face twitched, the razor barely grazing his earlobe in his trembling hand.

Marcel's heart clenched tight, an icy sense of crisis instantly gripping him.

Gauguin had fled, Van Gogh wanted to take his place, and the killer was outside the door.

These two "prey"—one penniless, one on the verge of mental collapse—what could they use to resist the gang's gun?

Almost on instinct, Marcel lunged toward the door, pressing his thin shoulder firmly against the green wooden door that was being violently struck and creaking ominously.

"Pierre! I'm counting to three!" The roar outside was full of brutality. "One!"

"Two!"

Marcel gritted his teeth, dull pain shooting through his shoulder blade, cold sweat pouring down.

His gaze swept rapidly across the studio—easel, paints, brushes... nothing that could stop a bullet!

"Three!"

"CRASH—!"

The rotten door bolt finally snapped completely!

The massive impact sent Marcel flying backward, crashing hard onto the floor.

Cold wind carrying the strong scents of tobacco and cologne rushed into the studio.

A tall figure blocked the doorway, silhouetted against the last pale light of dusk outside, like a moving iron tower.

Armand.

He wore a thick dark wool coat, collar turned high, covering half his face.

The exposed part showed rough skin, prominent cheekbones, and a vicious old scar running diagonally from his left brow bone to the corner of his mouth, making his entire face appear particularly menacing.

Most chilling were his eyes—gray-blue, like dusty glass marbles, cold and numb.

Armand barged in without a word, searching around but not finding his prey.

"Oh?" Armand's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against glass. "Looks like our shy Mr. Pierre found himself a little pup as a shield?"

His gaze swept over the razor in Van Gogh's hand, then settled on Marcel, filled with undisguised contempt and scrutiny.

"Interesting. Where's Pierre? Or should I say, where's Paul? That coward painter who only hides behind women's skirts and borrows money under false names—where did he run off to?"

He slowly stepped forward, his heavy boots crunching on broken porcelain shards with a harsh sound.

His right hand remained in his coat pocket, where the protruding outline was clearly a Colt revolver.

"He... he's not here!" Van Gogh screamed hoarsely, trying to draw attention back to himself. "It's not his fault! The ear you want... is here!"

He raised the razor again, his posture desperate and mad.

"Your ear?" Armand acted as if he'd heard a joke, the scar at the corner of his mouth twisting. "Pierre's debt can only be paid with Pierre's ear. Rules of the trade can't be broken."

His gaze locked back onto Marcel: "You, kid, daring to block the door... looks like you're their accomplice?"

The cold Colt revolver finally emerged from the pocket, its black muzzle steadily aimed at Marcel's chest.

Marcel could clearly hear his heart pounding wildly in his chest, blood rushing to his head bringing waves of ringing.

The landlord's demand for 20 francs seemed recent, yet now he faced the muzzle of a gang killer's gun.

However, extreme fear instead bred a desperate courage.

He suddenly raised his head, meeting Armand's emotionless eyes: "The ear... isn't worth anything!"

Armand's eyebrow twitched slightly.

Marcel mustered all his strength to make his voice sound less shaky: "Cutting off an ear, besides venting anger, would it bring your boss back a single sou? Would it fill that thousand-franc hole?"

Armand's hand moved, his gray-blue eyes narrowing slightly.

The scar on his face twisted as he seemed to assess the weight of this suddenly defiant kid's words.

In the silence, only a crisp "click" could be heard—

Armand's thumb cocked the gun's hammer.

"Oh?" His voice dropped lower, becoming even more dangerous. "Then tell me, what... is worth money?"

He moved the gun muzzle half an inch closer.

"Kid, if you dare trick me... the next 'click' will be your head exploding."

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①Van Gogh's landlord at the yellow house was Marie Ginoux, see Van Gogh's Ear: The True Story (CHAPTER 7: "Monsieur Vincent").

Van Gogh's Ear: The True Story, written by Bernadette Murphy, published by Random House, 2016.

②See Van Gogh: The Life (CHAPTER 32: "The Sunflower and the Oleander").

Van Gogh: The Life, written by Steven Naifeh & Gregory White Smith, published by Random House, 2011.

③Rachel, see Van Gogh's Ear: The True Story (CHAPTER 13: "The Murky Myth"), The Yellow House: Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Nine Turbulent Weeks in Arles (11. "The Crisis, December 22-25")

Van Gogh's Ear: The True Story, written by Bernadette Murphy, published by Random House, 2016.

The Yellow House: Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Nine Turbulent Weeks in Arles, written by Martin Gayford, published by Little, Brown and Company, Hachette Book Group, 2006.