Bearing these things in mind, including the fact that the gods have been less than generous to her in matters of face and figure, I am deeply moved by her expertness, her ethereality, her precision, her simplicity. Yet, on the other hand, I can only deplore the stylization and mannered quality she brings to her latter-day performances. When she is at her best, Markova has something above and beyond technique: a certain evanescent, purely luminous detachment. All these things reinforce my conviction that Markova should confine herself to the great classical interpretations, and recognize her own physical limitations, even within this field. Her Giselle is in a class by itself. She has made the role her own. Personally, however, I do not find she gives me the same satisfaction as the Swan Queen, nor in Fokine’s _Les Sylphides_. To my way of thinking, her Swan Queen, while technically precise, lacks both that deep plumbing of the emotions and the grand, regal manner that the role requires. Her Prelude in _Sylphides_ is spoiled, in my opinion, by excessive mannerisms. It is in _Giselle_ and _The Nutcracker_ that Markova can bring joy and pleasure to an immense public, that joy the public always receives, whether they know the intricate details of ballet or not, by seeing a great classical _ballerina_ at her best. One of Markova’s best characterizations was that of Taglioni in Dolin’s _Pas de Quatre_, a delightful cameo, yet today, or, at least, the last time I saw it, it, like her Prelude in _Sylphides_, suffered from an accretion of manner, until it bordered on the grotesque. One of the qualities Markova has in common with Pavlova, some of whose qualities she has, is her agelessness. As I said of Pavlova, “genius knows no age,” so might it be said of Diaghileff’s “little English girl” now grown up. The great Russian painter and co-founder of the Diaghileff Ballet, Alexandre Benois, the most noted designer of _Giselle_, once asserted that Pavlova’s ability to transmute rather ordinary and sometimes banal material into unalloyed gold was a theatrical miracle. It is in roles for which she is peculiarly and individually almost uniquely fitted that Markova, too, is able to work a theatrical miracle. Under the proper direction, under which she will not be left to her own devices, and will not be required to make her own decisions, but will have them made for her by a wise and intelligent director conscious of her limitations, Markova will be able the better to fulfil her destiny. It is to that desired end that I have been deeply interested in the fact that she had secured an invitation from the Sadler’s Wells Ballet, at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, for her to become, once again, a member of the company, with certain freedoms of action outside the company when her services are not required. The initial step has been taken. It is in such a setting that she belongs. I hope she will continue in this setting.