I was about to reply to him as I had done to the first one, but Jarrett, who had had difficulty in appeasing the anger of the crouching man, answered quickly for me, “Oatmeal.” I did not know what that dish was, but the ferocious reporter continued his questions.
“And what do you eat during the day?”
“Mussels.”
He wrote down phlegmatically, “Mussels during the day.”
I moved towards the door, and a female reporter in a tailor-made skirt, with her hair cut short, asked me in a clear, sweet voice, “Are you a Jewess-Catholic-Protestant-Mohammedan-Buddhist-Atheist-Zoroaster-Theist-or-Deist?” I stood still, rooted to the spot in bewilderment. She had said all that in a breath, accenting the syllables haphazard, and making of the whole one word so wildly incoherent that my impression was that I was not in safety near this strange, gentle person. I must have looked uneasy, and as my eyes fell on an elderly lady who was talking gaily to a little group of people, she came to my rescue, saying in very good French, “This young lady is asking you, Madame, whether you are of the Jewish religion or whether you are a Catholic, a Protestant, a Mohammedan, a Buddhist, an Atheist, a Zoroastrian, a Theist, or a Deist.”
I sank down on a couch.
“Oh, Heavens!” I exclaimed, “will it be like this in all the cities I visit?”
“Oh no,” answered Jarrett placidly; “your interviews will be wired throughout America.”
“What about the mussels?” I thought to myself, and then in an absent-minded way I answered, “I am a Catholic, Mademoiselle.”
“A Roman Catholic, or do you belong to the Orthodox Church?” she asked.