The self-enchanted : Mae Murray : image of an era (1959)

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a cold shower, into the harsh spray, scrubbing hard with soap and a brush. Then she pounded herself with an oatmeal bag. She took her time. They could wait. They'd wait while she turned her face to the spray. The sisters had punished her for dancing in the garden in her nightdress. She'd lighted matches and danced, pretending she was a firefly and they'd sent her to bed the next night without dinner and lectured her about fairy tales. But life was a fairy tale, she'd known it. Her grandmother had laughed at her when she wanted to be a dancer. Well, they'd laughed at Bernhardt too when she first appeared as a young girl at the Comedie Franchise; but the same Bernhardt became a great star and was still the greatest, young and glamorous, no matter what her age. You couldn't go plodding, you must go on your toes! She turned off the tap and toweled herself, put on her blue silk robe and stepped out to find the tiny room filled with the aroma of coffee and browned butter, her omelet under a silver hood on the dressing table. Only after she was fed and fragrant, did she come out, circling the floor slowly to their applause. It had never been like this before, not one glass rattling, not one happy inebriate, not a fork raised, while she danced. When she had finished and danced an encore and returned in her white satin gown, they stood to give her an ovation. Otto Kahn stepped forward. His white hair, white eyebrows and moustache shone. He greeted her with an old-world chivalry. The noted financier came often to the Sans Souci. She had seen his table on the edge of the dance floor, his guests in elegant evening dress; but tonight he was asking her to join them and there was a basket of gardenias at her place. He introduced his guests and she said hello and bent her hot little face to the flowers. Conversation flew. Otto Kahn was a banker, one of the few who could hold his own with J. P. Morgan; but he was also a connoisseur of art, a lover of opera and a devotee of the theatre. He was keeping the Met alive almost single-handed, he was one of Broad 12