sipping coffee and reading

4

make myself believe I was in my own room all my efforts did
not convince me. They merely interfered with my acting.

Paul already knew the whole of his role by heart, but I
had to read my lines out of the book, or else to get by with
approximations. To my astonishment the words did not help
me. In fact they bothered me, so that I should have preferred
to do without them entirely, or to cut the number in half. Not
only the words, but also the thoughts, of the poet were foreign
to me. Even the action as outlined tended to take away from
me that freedom which I had felt in my own room.

Worse than that, I didn’t recognize my own voice. Besides,
neither the setting nor the plan which I had fixed during my
work at home would harmonize with the playing of Paul. For
example, how could I introduce, into a comparatively quiet'
scene, between Othello and I ago, those flashes with my teeth,
rollings of my eyes, which were to get me into my part.? Yet I
could not break away from my fixed ideas of how to act the
nature I conceived of as savage, nor even from the setting I
had prepared. Perhaps the reason was that I had nothing to put
in its place. I had read the text of the role by itself, I had
played the character by itself, without relating the one to the

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