Before leaving for Paris, en route home to New York, there was a bit of straightening out to be done in London. The merger having failed to jell, a bit of additional adjustment was necessary. In other words, because of the changed situation, my contract with Universal Art had to be renegotiated. As in all matters balletic, it would seem, numerous conferences were required; but the new contract was eventually negotiated agreeably. Back in New York, the day of the new Monte Carlo Ballet Russe opening approached. There were the usual alarums and excursions, and others not so usual. Markova, of course, was English. Moreover, she danced the coveted role, the title part in _Giselle_. She had already made this part quite personally something of her own. Her success in the role during the Drury Lane season, where she had alternated the part with Tamara Toumanova, had been conspicuous. Although the role was shared between three _ballerinas_, Markova, Toumanova, and Slavenska, Massine and I agreed that, since the opening performance in New York was so important and because Markova was new to the country, it would provide her with a magnificent opportunity for a debut; she should dance Giselle that night. Factionism was rampant. Pressures of almost every sort were put upon Massine to switch the opening night casting. A threat of possible violence caused me to take the precaution to have detectives, disguised as stage-hands standing by; I eliminated the trap-door and understage elevator used in this production as Giselle’s grave, and gave instructions to have everything loose on the stage fastened down. So literally were these orders carried out that even the lilies Giselle has to pluck in the second act and toss to her Albrecht while dancing as a ghost, were securely nailed to the stage floor. This nearly caused a minor contretemps and what might have turned out to be a ludicrous situation, when Markova had to rip them up by main force before she could toss them to Serge Lifar, who was making his first New York appearance with the company as Albrecht. Lifar’s brief association with the new Monte Carlo Ballet Russe was not a happy one for any of us, least of all for himself. He certainly did not behave well. In my earlier book, _Impresario_, I dwelt quite fully on certain aspects of his weird fantasies. There is no point in repeating them. Always excitable, here in New York at that time Lifar was unable to understand and realize he was not at the Paris Opera, where his every word is law. Lifar’s fantastic behavior in New York before we shipped him back to Paris was but an example of his lack of tact and his overwhelming egoism. He proved to be a colossal headache; but I believe much of it was due to a streak of self-dramatization in his nature, and a positive delight he takes in being the central character, the focus of an “incident.”