Read Online In America by Susan Sontag - Free Book Online Page A

performed without me and we would never be engaged again at the theatre should we fail to fulfill our contract.”
    â€œIt must have been dreadful for you.”
    â€œIt still is. I mourn her every day of my life. I love Piotr, but I hadn’t pictured myself with a son. I always imagined a daughter.”
    â€œBut the laurels—you were right about the laurels.”
    â€œYes, I admit that from the beginning I never played anything but principal roles. But it doesn’t help. It’s astonishing how one becomes accustomed to applause.”
    *   *   *
    AS STEFAN and others had discouraged her, Maryna felt it her duty to discourage young aspirants to the stage who sought her support. “You can’t imagine the slights you’ll have to endure,” she had warned Krystyna. “Even if you become successful”—she shook her head—“and then, one day, because you are successful.”
    But even though Maryna did not mean to encourage, she did, simply because she liked to instruct, and to tell stories about her life.
    â€œMr. Załężowski, Heinrich Załężowski, used to say, ‘It won’t help you to grind away day and night at your roles. It will ruin your health and give you too many ideas. Believe me, actors don’t need to think!’” She laughed. “Of course I thought this was preposterous. I like ideas.”
    â€œYes,” interjected one of her protégés, “ideas are—”
    â€œBut I knew there was no point in arguing with him. So I replied humbly, I was still very young and he was much older, and my husband: ‘Then what should I do?’ ‘Diligence, day-to-day diligence!’ he shouted (why do theatre people shout so much?). As if I’d not been diligent!”
    She pressed her fingers to her temples. Another headache in the wings.
    â€œAnd diligence isn’t enough. I can study a part for a long time and still not be ready to play the role. I learn the lines, say them walking up and down, imagining how I’ll turn my head and move my hands, feeling everything my character feels. But that isn’t enough. I have to see it. See myself as her. And sometimes, who knows why, I can’t. The picture isn’t sharp or it won’t stay in my mind. Because it’s the future—which nobody can know.”
    This was the moment when the young actor listening to Maryna became a little apprehensive.
    â€œYes, that’s what preparing a role is, it’s like looking into the future. Or expecting to know how a journey will turn out.”
    *   *   *
    MUSING , she said: “I am not brave, you see. I know myself very well. And I am not quick, either. I should describe myself as … slow.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œNot quick. Not clever. Just a little above mediocre. Really. But I’ve always understood”—she smiled implacably—“that I can triumph by sheer stubbornness, by applying myself harder than anyone else.”
    *   *   *
    â€œ PERHAPS you should rest.”
    â€œNo,” she said. “I don’t want to rest. I want to work.”
    â€œWho works harder than you?”
    â€œI want peace.”
    â€œPeace?”
    â€œI want to breathe pure air. I want to wash my clothes in a sparkling stream.”
    â€œYou? You wash your own clothes? When? When would you have the time? And where?”
    â€œOh, it’s not the clothes!” she cried. “Does no one understand me?”
    *   *   *
    â€œ PARIS ,” someone suggested. “Despite the presence there of so many of our melancholy, noble-spirited compatriots, Paris is full of gaiety and opportunity. And you would never be an exile comme les autres. You would like—”
    â€œNo, not Paris.”
    *   *   *
    â€œ IT’S TRUE I’m not satisfied. Most of all,” she