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| Pola Negri, actress |
Where Is the Love? |
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Ludmilla leaped to the door crying, "I'll lead the way." I waited for Eugene [Ludmilla's son] to tell her that it would not be necessary, that he knew the way to his bedroom, but he said nothing. She smiled, "Tonight, you sleep in the bed in which I was born."
I ducked between the down covers of the huge bed set in an alcove, which was in combination with his sitting room. I waited shivering beneath the covers in the dimness of that shrouded bed. When he at last joined me, he asked, "Do you want some light?"
I did not know what to reply. I muttered, "If you'd like—"
A circle of lamplight fell on me. He drew down the covers and methodically pulled my nightgown up over my head. I wanted to stroke his face but he did nothing to encourage even the smallest gesture of intimacy and I was afraid I might be considered too bold. He studied my body almost clinically and said in a professorial tone, "Yes, it's as beautiful as I thought it would be."
He removed his own nightclothes. I felt so alienated from that I was ashamed to look at my naked stranger-husband. I thought it would begin with a repetition of the curiously sweet pain of our kiss, but instead he fell upon me with a forcefulness that he mistook for passion. There was no sweetness in this pain and, aside from revulsion, it was the strongest sensation I experienced that night.
He satisfied himself and rolled away into a deep slumber. I lay there unmoving until the light of morning filled the room. He did not hear my stifled sobs. I looked over at my husband. He was beautiful even in his sleep, but it was a beauty that no longer stirred me. I felt no desire to touch him and clung to my side of the bed. All at once I found myself repeating, "Where is the joy, God, where is the joy?" (Warsaw, Poland, 1918)
from Memoirs of a Star by Pola Negri (Doubleday, © 1970)
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