She had been interviewed at all possible times,--
And sometimes the interviews came at impossible ones;
But it did not matter to her
As long as the stories were printed and her name was spelt correctly.
So we sent a photographer to the hotel one day
To take pictures of her in her drawing room.
He was an ungentle photographer
Who had been accustomed to take pictures of young women
Coming into the harbor on shipboard, and no photograph was complete
Without limbs being crossed or suchwise.
But she did not mind even that,
If the pictures were published the next day.
He took a great number of her in her salon,
And departed happy at the day's bagging.
A great international disturbance reduced all the white space available
And no photographs were printed the next day
Of the prima donna.
And when I met her at rehearsal, she said very shortly:
"Je vous ne parle plus" and looked at me harshly.
Was I to blame for the international situation?