* * * * *
I rehearsed and rehearsed.
I fought and fought with the directress, a teacher of elocution, who
tried to make me mouth my words in the old style.
She swore that she would get rid of me as Iistral (pronounced Eestral),
if it were not for the fact that it would seriously embarrass her to try
others for the part, the time of production being so near.
Dineen upbraided me for being insubordinate....
I asked Dineen please to believe in me, and watch results.
My idea of acting was to go into the part, be burned alive by it ... to
recite my lines naturally.
I was proud of myself. I was to act as lead in a play by a
world-celebrated author, in its premier American production.
The story of it was that of a young poet-student, Iistral ... eccentric
... a sensitive ... who had, while tutoring the children of a count,
fallen in love with the countess, his wife ... on the discovery of the
liaison, she had committed suicide in a lake on their private
grounds....
The play opened up with the young student, Iistral, come back home,
after the wife's death....
The tragedy had affected him strangely.
He wore a Hindoo robe, let his beard grow like a Yogi ... was irritated
with the unimaginative, self-seeking smugness of the grown-ups.
He found in Lisel, a little niece of his, the wise, innocent,
illuminated imagination of childhood.
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