As a dancer, I find her appeal to me is two-fold: first as a pure classical dancer; second as an actress-dancer, by which I mean a dancer with a fine ability to characterize. This is important, for it implies few, if any, limitations. Pavlova, as I have pointed out, was free from limitations in the same way and, I think, to a similar degree. Anna Pavlova had a wide variety: she was a superb dramatic dancer in _Giselle_; she was equally at home in the brittle, glamorous _Fairy Doll_; as the light-hearted protagonist of the _Rondino_; as the bright-colored flirt of the Tchaikowsky _Christmas_. Tamara Karsavina ranged the gamut from _Carnaval_, _Les Sylphides_, and _Pavillon d’Armide_, on the one hand, to _Schéhérazade_, _Thamar_, and the Miller’s Wife in _The Three-Cornered Hat_, on the other, doing all with equal skill and artistry. In the same way, Fonteyn ranges, with equal perfection from the Princess Aurora of _The Sleeping Beauty_, the title role of _Cinderella_, and _Mam’zelle Angot_, the Millers wife in _The Three-Cornered Hat_, the tragic Giselle, Swanilda in _Coppélia_, the peasant Dulcinia in _Don Quixote_, on the one hand, to the pure, abstract dancing appeal of her lyrical roles in ballets such as _Symphonic Variations_, _Scènes de Ballet_, _Ballet Imperial_, and _Dante Sonata_, on the other. As a dancer, Fonteyn is freer of mannerisms than any other _ballerina_ I have known, devoid of tricks and those stunts sometimes called “showmanship” that are so often mere vulgar lapses from taste. About everything she does there is a strange combination of purity of style with a striking individuality that I can only identify and explain by that overworked term, “personality.” She has a superb carriage, the taut back of the perfect dancer, the faultless line and the ankles of the true _ballerina_. Over all is a great suppleness: the sort of suppleness that can make even an unexpected fall a thing of beauty. For _ballerinas_ sometimes fall, even as ordinary mortals. One such fall occurred on Fonteyn’s first entrance in the nation’s capital, before a gala audience at the Washington _première_ of Sadler’s Wells, with an audience that included President Truman, Sir Oliver Franks, and the entire diplomatic corps. The cramped, ill-suited platform of Constitution Hall, was an inadequate, makeshift excuse for a stage. As Fonteyn entered to the resounding applause of thousands, she slipped on a loose board and fell, but gracefully and with such beauty that those in the audience who did not know might easily have thought it was a part of the choreographer’s design.