"When Mme. Bernhardt is world weary she gets into this coffin -- a grewsome [sic] piece of furniture in her boudoir -- and, covering herself with faded wreaths and flowers, folds her hands across her breast and, her eyes closed, bids a temporary farewell to life. A lighted candle on a votary table at her left and a death skull grinning on the floor add to the illusion. It is only when dinner is announced that the tragedienne opens her eyes and once more takes a languid interest in things material."
(She sounds like a typical teenage goth!)
0 comments:
Post a Comment