The trans-continental tour compounded troubles and annoyances with heavy financial losses. The Original Ballet Russe carried with it the heavy liability of a legend to a vast new audience. This audience had heard of the symphonic ballets; there were nostalgic tales told them by their elders about the “baby ballerinas,” Toumanova, Baronova, Riabouchinska. There were no symphonic ballets. The “baby ballerinas” had grown up and were in other pastures. The repertoire and the interpretations revealed the ravages of time. Perhaps the truth was that legends have an unhappy trick of falling short of reality. While the long tour was in progress, the Marquis de Cuevas was making arrangements with the Principality of Monaco for a season at Monte Carlo with his own company. Immediately on getting wind of this, the “Colonel” did his best to try to doublecross the Marquis. This time, the “Colonel” did not succeed. For several seasons, the de Cuevas company, under the title Grand Ballet de Monte Carlo, largely peopled with American dancers, including Rosella Hightower, Marjorie Tallchief, Jocelyn Vollmar, Ana Ricarda, and others, and under the choreographic direction of John Taras, functioned there. When his Monte Carlo contract was at an end, the name of the company was changed to the Grand Ballet du Marquis de Cuevas. In 1951, the Marquis brought his company to New York for a season at the Century Theatre. It was completely unsuccessful, and while the losses were less than the initial American season, when it was called Ballet International, since there were no production costs to be met, much less a theatre to be bought, it was indeed an unfortunate occasion. The debacle, I believe, was not entirely the fault of the Marquis, since the entire season was mismanaged and mishandled from every point of view. The long, unhappy tour of the Original Ballet Russe dragged its weary way to a close. Nothing I could imagine would be more welcome than that desired event. When it was all over, I was happy to see them push off to Europe. The losses I incurred were so considerable that it still is a painful subject on which to ponder, even from this distance of time. Suffice it to say they were very considerable. The Original Ballet Russe had been living on its capital far too long. In London, in 1947, the “Colonel” made an attempt to reorganize his company. Clutching at straws, the shrewd “Colonel,” I am sure, realized that if he had any chance for survival, it would be on the basis of a successful London season, scene of his first triumphs. For this purpose, he formed a new company, since almost none of the original organization survived. It was a failure.