Wearing a costume where the losange-shaped checks mimic the multiple shards of a shattered mirror, Harlequin was a hero for our hero. It is not surprising that, throughout his life, he never stopped painting this character's likeness. Could it be that those paintings were self-portraits? Come now.... that would be to suggest the the existence of Vincent Roux was nothing but a harlequinade! The fact remains, however, that Vincent,who would so much have loved to have had a brother, a sibling, harboured fraternal emotions for this athletic party-going youth, with his pirouettes and somersaults, fizzing like champagne, who glittered with discoveries and who, shyly, hid his deep earnestness behind a shower of gold dust.