diligently; I was very lazy, and did not even trouble to memorize the piece I had been given to prepare. My mother came asking me the name of this piece, and I told her it was a passage from the play "Romeo and Juliet"; she asked me to recite the piece to her, and my limbs trembled; after repeating two passages I went blank, and was struck by something like a stupor... So she performed the piece in my place. I knew that about her: she is precise to a degree the mind cannot imagine, and I alone know how many hours she spends perfecting a small role, so that she leaves no reference unconsulted, in order to gather the

greatest possible store of information; and she goes to the singing insti-tute to train her voice and give it more depth.

My mother encouraged me to go on in the acting life, but I feared the stage. She was once asked to give the name of a young actress to take a secondary role in a play, and it was natural that she should suggest my name. I memorized the words; but I could not control my nerves — espe-cially when I saw my pictures occupying the front pages of the news-papers. "Larry" — that is, Laurence — warned me to keep calm, and I promised him well, until I stood before the tele-vision lens and the engi-

neer gave the signal to begin; I pictured myself before ten thousand souls, and my resolve gave way, and whatever courage remained to me melted away...

I learned after this trial that living on a farm in Australia would suit me better; but instead I went to work with my grandmother in the beauty salon... Yet that did not gain me experience. I remember how I once entered my mother's room wearing a dark lipstick... I remember exactly how she started, and said: Never do that again — that color adds years

to your age. Yes!... Even she does not use many cosmetics, and touches her cheeks with a quiet, light color. As for her hair, she has it dressed once a week, because curling it annoys her.

My mother lives a quiet domestic life, in a splendid dwelling surrounded by green gardens, which she tends with Larry. They have lately broken into another field, far removed from acting: they bought a herd of pigs, which live in luxurious quarters, and several cows, on which she bestowed the names of the heroines of famous novels — among them you find the names "Cordelia," "Berbizwa," and "Blanche"!...

My mother loves cook-ing very much, and I can count her in the rank of the most skillful cooks; she is always searching out new dishes from every corner of the world.

I shall never forget the day my mother trav-eled to America to act in the film Streetcar Named Desire... She sent inviting me to travel with "Larry," and added that I might perhaps be able to appear on the screen in the crowd scenes... I shall not forget the photographers' lights that greeted us on the airport ground, and the flood of questions the journalists poured upon "Larry"... And my mother was there, in her full elegance and

charm, among those who came to meet us! I was astonished when I visited Hollywood: I had expected to see a row of studios, instead of a thriving, splendid city. Unlike other stars, my mother and Larry do their own "makeup" before beginning work, without anyone helping them; I would stand and watch my mother in fascination as she dusted on the powders she needed before the camera! I stood watching the filming with astonishment and admiration, and Elia Kazan, who was directing, turned to me and invited me to