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Updated: May 17, 2025
The first issue of MOTHER EARTH appeared in the month of March, 1906, the initial expenses of the periodical partly covered by the proceeds of a theater benefit given by Orleneff, Mme. Nazimova, and their company, in favor of the Anarchist magazine.
It is as difficult an accomplishment for a man as one can imagine. For it is not given to many to act with this degree of whiteness, devoid of off colorings or alien tones. This performance of Barrymore in its spiritual richness, its elegance, finesse, and intelligence, has not been equaled for me since I saw the great geniuses Paul Orleneff and Eleonora Duse.
Devon!" The finality of her tone brought him up short. "We must understand each other." "I should like nothing better." He, too, was suddenly formal. "This morning you projected yourself into my life." "Literally," he cordially agreed. "I am grateful to you for what you did and what you wish to do. But I will not meet any more strangers. I will not meet Miss Orleneff, or any one else.
But God bless you both!" Under the influence of this final benediction, Epstein waddled over to the corner where Warren, very pale, and Louise Ordway, very much bored, stood surrounded by a group that included Sonya Orleneff. Firmly detaching the bridegroom from this congenial assemblage, Epstein led him to one side. "Varren," he said solemnly, "I got to congratulate you all over again.
I might mention the coming of Paul Orleneff, who left Alla Nazimova with us to be eventually swallowed up in the conventional American theatre. Four or five years ago a company of Negro players at the Lafayette Theatre gave a performance of a musical revue that boomed like the big bell in the Kremlin at Moscow. Nobody could be deaf to the sounds.
"Come often," she said. "You have given me a new interest. I don't think you can quite realize what that means to me." When Sonya arrived at five that afternoon, she found Jepson still exuding reassurance. With two doctors within call, a nurse in the house, and Mr. Devon and Miss Orleneff to telephone to at a moment's notice, "nothink much could 'appen." So reasoned Jepson.
As manager of the Russian theater Emma Goldman enjoyed some unique experiences. M. Orleneff could converse only in Russian, and "Miss Smith" was forced to act as his interpreter at various polite functions.
"That's what she said." "It's the one gleam of intelligence I see in the situation," commented his candid friend. "Is she pretty?" "As lovely in her way as you are. Think you could help her any?" wheedled Laurie. "I doubt it. I'm too selfish to be bothered with girls who are in trouble. I'll tell you who can help her Sonya Orleneff." "Of course!" Laurie beamed at her.
She will be a tower of strength. She's a Russian, and one of the best women I know." She listened with a slight smile. "What's her name?" "Miss Orleneff, Sonya Orleneff, a great pal of my sister's and an all-round good sort. I'd like to bring her in to-morrow afternoon. Will five be convenient?" "No." She spoke now with the curtness of the morning. "In no circumstances," she added, decisively.
Nothing and nobody looked natural. Samuel became increasingly doubtful about the pleasure of this walk. The corners of his mouth went down. A flower fell into his lap, and looking up he saw Sonya Orleneff smiling at him. Even Sonya was a new Sonya, emerging from what Samuel dimly felt to be pink clouds.
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