I prefaced my talk by references to cats, rabbits, etc., and finished up by diagnosing the political situation in Russia.
For me the party was a great success. I succeeded in forgetting myself for a while. I hope the rest of them managed to do the same thing. From the café the party went over to a little girl's house—she was a friend of Mr. Woolcott—and again we burst forth in music and dancing. We made a complete evening of it and I went to bed tired and exhausted about five in the morning.
I want a long sleep, but am awakened by my lawyer at nine. He has packages of legal documents and papers for me to sign, my orders about certain personal things of great importance. I have a splitting headache. My boat is sailing at noon, and altogether, with a lawyer for a companion, it is a hideous day.
All through the morning the telephone bell is ringing. Reporters. I listen several times, but it never varies.
"Mr. Chaplin, why are you going to Europe?"
"To get rid of interviews," I finally shout, and hang up the 'phone.
Somehow, with invaluable assistance, we get away from the hotel and are on our way to the dock. My lawyer meets me there. He has come to see me off. I tremble, though, for fear he has more business with me.
I am criticised by my lawyer for talking so sharply the first thing in the morning. That's just it. He always sees me the first thing in the morning. That's what makes me short.
But it is too big a moment. Something is stirring within me. I am anxious and reluctant about leaving. My emotions are all mixed.
It is a beautiful morning. New York looks much finer and nicer because I am leaving it. I am terribly troubled about passports and the usual procedure about declaring income tax, but my lawyer reassures me that he has fixed everything O.K. and that my name will work a lot of influence with the American officials; but I am very dubious about it when I am met by the American officials at the port.