[Illustration: _Lido_ Olga Preobrajenska in her Paris school] [Illustration: Lydia Lopokova _Hoppé_] [Illustration: Tamara Karsavina] [Illustration: Mathilde Kchessinska _Lido_ ] [Illustration: _Maurice Goldberg_ Michel Fokine] [Illustration: Adolph Bolm _Maurice Seymour_] [Illustration: _Acme_ Anna Pavlova] [Illustration: Alexandre Volinine in his Paris studio, with Colette Marchand _Lido_] [Illustration: _Baker_ Ballet Pioneering in America: “Sasha” Philipoff, Irving Deakin, Olga Morosova, “Colonel” W. de Basil, Sono Osato ] [Illustration: S. Hurok, “Colonel” W. de Basil and leading members of the de Basil Ballet Russe, 1933. Back row: David Lichine, Vania Psota, Sasha Alexandroff, S. Hurok; Center row: Leonide Massine, Tatiana Riabouchinska, Col. W. de Basil, Nina Verchinina, Yurek Shabalevsky; Front row: Edward Borovansky, Tamara Toumanova _Nikoff_ ] pioneer in music. Volpe devoted his entire life, from the time of his arrival in this country until his death, to the cause of young American musicians. He was an ideal collaborator for the Fokines. There was a fine understanding between Fokine and Volpe, and the performances, therefore, were splendid. I felt content. But not for long. My peace of mind was shattered by a telephone call. It was Mrs. Volpe. The news was bad. Fokine had suffered an injury during rehearsal. He had pulled a leg tendon. The pain was severe. The rehearsal had been abandoned. I rushed to Manhattan and up to the old Marie Antoinette Hotel, famous as the long-time home of that wizard of the American theatre, David Belasco. Here the Fokines had made their temporary home, while searching for a house. Michel was in bed, with Vera in solicitous attendance. To understate, the news was very bad. The doctor, who had just left, had said it would be at least six weeks before he could permit Fokine to dance. But the performance _had_ to be given Tuesday night. It was now Sunday. There was all the publicity, all the advertising, and the rent of the Metropolitan Opera House had to be paid. This was not all. A tour had been booked to follow the Metropolitan appearance, including Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, and Richmond. Apart from my own expenses, there were the responsibilities to the various local managers and managements concerned. Something had to be done, and at once. The newspapers had to be informed. The silence of the hotel bedroom, hitherto broken only by Vera’s cooing ministrations, deepened. It was I who spoke. An idea flashed through my mind. “Mikhail Mikhailovitch,” I said, “could Vera Petrovna do a full programme on Tuesday night on her own?” Michel and Vera exchanged glances. There was something telepathic in the communication between their eyes. Fokine turned his head in my direction. “Yes,” he said.