Granny Dan Read Online Free PDF Page A

performance that year on Christmas Eve. Her brothers and father were at the front, but the Czar and Czarina were there, and were overwhelmed by the beauty of her dancing. She joined them in their box briefly afterward and asked immediately after Alexei. She gave his mother one of the roses that had been given her, and sent it to him, and Madame Markova noticed that she looked more tired than usual when she returned backstage. It had been a long, exciting evening, and Danina wouldn't have admitted it, but she felt exhausted.
    She got up at five the next day, as usual, although it was Christmas Day, and was in the studio warming up by five-thirty. There was no class until noon that day, but she could never bear the idea of missing an entire morning. She was always afraid she would lose some part of her skill, if she wasted half a day, or even let herself be pulled away from it for a minute. Even on Christmas.
    Madame Markova saw Danina in the studio at seven, and after watching her for a little while, she thought her exercises looked strange. There was a stiffness that was uncharacteristic of her, an awkwardness as she practiced her arabesques, and then very slowly, as though in slow motion, she began to drift toward the floor. Her movements were so graceful that as she fell, it looked rehearsed and absolutely perfect. It was only when she lay there, without moving, for what seemed like an eternity, that Madame Markova and two of the other students suddenly realized that she was unconscious. They ran to her immediately, and attempted to revive her, and Madame Markova knelt beside her on the floor. Her hands were trembling as she touched Danina's face and back, and felt the dry, blazing heat of her body. And as Danina opened unseeing eyes, her mentor saw instantly that they were feverish and glazed, and she had been devoured, during the night, by some mysterious illness.
    “My child, why did you dance today if you are ill … ?” Madame Markova was beside herself as she looked at her. They had all heard of the raging influenza running unchecked through Moscow, but thus far there had been no sign of it in St. Petersburg. “You shouldn't have done this,” Madame Markova scolded her gently, fearing the worst for her. But at first, Danina seemed almost not to hear her.
    “I had to. … I had to….” Missing a moment, a single exercise or class or rehearsal was more than Danina could bear. “I must get up. … I must …” she said, and then began to babble. One of the young men who had danced with her for a decade lifted her easily, and at Madame Markova's direction carried her to her bed upstairs. She had finally left the large dormitory the year before, and was now sleeping in a room with only six beds in it. It was as spartan and spare and icy cold as the dormitory where she had lived for eleven years, but it was a little bit more private, and now the other dancers came rapidly to hover in the doorway and watch her. News of her collapse had already spread everywhere, in all the halls of the ballet.
    “Is she all right … what happened … she is so pale, Madame … what will happen … we must call a doctor. …” Danina herself was too tired to explain, too dazed to even recognize anyone. All she could see in the distance was the tall, spare form of Madame Markova, whom she loved as a mother, standing anxiously at the foot of her bed. But she was too tired to listen to what she was saying.
    Madame Markova ordered everyone from the room, for fear of contagion to them, and asked one of the other teachers to bring some tea for Danina. But when Madame Markova put the cup to Danina's lips, she could not even sip it. Danina was far too ill, and much too weak. And just sitting up, with Madame Markova's powerful arms supporting her, she nearly fainted. She had never felt so ill in her life, but it no longer mattered to her. By that afternoon, when the doctor came, she knew she was going to die, and she didn't mind it. Every