"The Russians are preeminent," said I, "because they possess both
the inspiration--the fire--and the training. In no other nation
or school are the two so perfectly joined. In the Turkish dancers
there is perfect grace and freedom, but no life. In Desiree Le
Mire, for example, there is indeed life; but she has not had the
necessary training."
"What? Le Mire! Have you seen her?" cried Harry.
"Not on the stage," I answered; "but I crossed on the same ship
with her, and she was kind enough to give me a great deal of her
time. She seems to understand perfectly her own artistic
limitations, and I am taking her word for it."
But Harry was no longer interested in the subject of dancing. I
was besieged on the instant with a thousand questions.
Had I known Le Mire long? What was she like? Was it true that
Prince Dolansky had shot himself in despair at losing her? Was
she beautiful? How well did I know her? Would I take him to see
her?
And within half an hour the last question was repeated so many
times and with such insistence that I finally consented and left
Harry delighted beyond words.
My own experience with Desiree Le Mire had been anything but
exciting.
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