Granny Dan Read Online Free PDF

inch of her body ached, her limbs felt as though they had been severed with axes. Each touch, each movement, each brush against the rough sheets on her bed made her feel as though her skin were on fire. And all she could think of as she lay there, hovering between delirium and pain, was that if she did not exercise soon, and return to classes and rehearsal, she would die.
    The doctor who came confirmed Madame Markova's earlier fears, and did little to allay her terror for Danina. It was indeed influenza, and he admitted honestly to the mistress of the ballet that there was nothing he could do about it. People had been dying in Moscow by the hundreds. And Madame Markova cried as she listened. She tried to urge Danina to be strong, but Danina had begun to sense that she would not win the battle, which terrified her mentor even further.
    “Is it like Mama … do I have typhoid?” she whispered, too weak to speak aloud, or even to reach out and touch Madame Markova standing near her.
    “Of course not, my child. It's nothing,” she lied. “You have been working too hard. That's all. You must rest for a few days, and you'll be fine.” But Madame Markova's words fooled no one, least of all the patient, who even in her groggy state was well aware of how ill she was, how hopeless the situation.
    “I'm dying,” she said quietly later that night, and she said it with such calm conviction that the teacher sitting with her ran to get Madame Mar-kova. Both women were crying when they returned, but Madame Markova dried her eyes before coming to sit next to Danina again. She held a glass of water to the girl's lips, but was unable to convince her to take it. Danina had neither the desire, nor the strength, to drink. Her fever was still blazing, her eyes looked ill and wild. “I'm dying, aren't I?” she whispered to her old friend.
    “I won't let you do that,” Madame Markova said quietly. “You have not danced Raimonda yet, and I was planning to let you do that this year. It would be a shame to die without having at least tried that.” Danina tried to smile but failed. She felt much too ill to answer.
    “I can't miss rehearsal tomorrow,” Danina croaked at her a little while later, as Madame Markova sat with her through the night. It was as though Danina felt that if she didn't dance, she might well die. The ballet was her life-force.
    The doctor returned to see her again that morning, he applied several poultices, and gave her several drops of a bitter tasting liquid to drink, but to no avail. By late that afternoon, she was much worse. She was completely delirious that night, shouting unintelligibly and muttering darkly, and then laughing at people she imagined she saw, or things she heard but no one else did. It was an endless night for everyone, and in the morning Danina looked ravaged. The fever was so high that it was hard to imagine she had survived it this far, impossible to believe it would not kill her.
    “We must do something,” Madame Markova said, looking distracted. The doctor had insisted there was nothing more he could do, and she believed him, but perhaps another doctor would think of something else he hadn't. With a sense of desperation, Madame Markova jotted off a note in haste that afternoon to the Czarina, explaining the situation to her, and daring to ask if she had any suggestions, or knew someone they could call for Danina. Madame Markova knew, as everyone did, that there was a hospital set up in part of the Catherine Palace at Tsarskoe Selo, where the Czarina and Grand Duchesses nursed the soldiers. Perhaps there was someone there who would have some idea how to help Danina. Madame Markova was desperate by then, and willing to try anything to save her. Some people had survived the rampaging influenza in Moscow, but it seemed to be more a matter of luck, rather than anything more scientific.
    The Czarina did not waste time writing a response and immediately sent the younger of the Czarevitch's two