One of the few serious stories he told that evening was of the time when he and my childhood idol, Maxim Gorky, were working on the boats on the Volga and had to improvise trousers out of two pairs of old wheat-sacks which they tied round their waists. Gorky and Chaliapine were both from Kazan and of the same age. Tonight, as the party wore on, Chaliapine sang folk songs, gay songs, sad songs, ribald songs. Loving fine raiment, tonight he had worn a tall gray top hat. When he arrived and we had greeted him in the hallway, I caught him watching his reflection in the long mirror and getting great satisfaction out of it. Now, as he sang, he became a Tsar, and it was difficult to imagine that he had never been anything but a great Tsar all his life. The party waxed even gayer, the hour grew late. We were all sitting on the floor: Pavlova, Chaliapine, his wife Masha, and the other guests. Chaliapine had been gazing at Pavlova for some time. Suddenly he turned and fixed his eyes on his wife appraisingly. “Masha, my dear,” he said, after a long moment, “you don’t object to my having a child by Annushka?” Masha smiled tolerantly and quickly replied: “Why don’t you ask her?” Chaliapine, with all the dignity and solemnity of a Boris Godunoff, put the question to Pavlova. Pavlova’s eyes fixed themselves on his, with equal gravity. “My dear Fedya,” she said, quite solemnly, “such matters are not discussed in public.” She paused, then added mischievously: “Let us make an appointment. I am leaving for Paris in a day or two.... Perhaps I shall take you along with me....” * * * * * In all the dance, Pavlova was my first love. It was from her I received my strongest and most lasting impressions. She proved and realized my dreams. To the Western World, and particularly to America, she brought a new and stimulating form of art expression. She introduced standards, if not ideas, that have had an almost revolutionary effect. Anna Pavlova had everything, both as an artist and as a human being. 3. Three Ladies: Not From the Maryinsky A. _A NEGLECTED AMERICAN GENIUS--AND HER “CHILDREN”_ Although my association with her was marked by a series of explosions and an overall atmosphere of tragi-comedy, it is a source of pride to me that I was able to number among my dance connections that neglected American genius, Isadora Duncan. It was Anna Pavlova who spurred my enthusiasm to bring Isadora to her own country, in 1922, a fact accomplished only with considerable difficulty, as those who have read my earlier volume of memoirs will recollect. Despite the fact they had little in common, Pavlova had a tremendous respect for this tall American dancer, who abhorred ballet.