What prompted the student to ponder specially the figure of the faun or satyr it is quite impossible to guess. That he should do so, however, is scarcely surprising; for interpretation by the dance it is difficult to think of any conception of classical mythology more likely to appeal to an artist of Nijinsky’s temperament and talents. Type of what is animal in man, epitome of all his unsophisticated lusts and appetites, here is surely an ideal theme for the dancer’s art. Possibly Debussy’s music first suggested the faun; if not, the appropriate orchestral accompaniment--for Debussy would seem to be a composer with whose methods Nijinsky finds himself in close sympathy--was ready to hand; providing not only accompaniment but scenario and plot. But this was not enough. In those antique urns and vases, with their oddly but vividly expressive figures, there was a potent fascination for the dancer, impelling him to translate into living movement their arrested grace. When that impulse hardened into a definite attempt, the result was “L’Après-Midi d’un Faune,” as presented on the stage, with the assistance of Nelidowa (his partner, as the Goddess, in “Le Dieu Bleu”) and other ladies of the Russian troupe, and the services of Léon Bakst as decorator--a performance which may be briefly described as an endeavour to bring to life an antique bas relief or ceramic painting. Thus far, it is hardly necessary to confess, is pure surmise; let it be added that it is quite probably erroneous! But some such processes of thought, one imagines, must have attended the evolution of this curious “ballet.” It would be a mistake to take it too seriously, and discuss solemnly its daring transgression of all accepted canons. Too obviously it is a wholly individual affair--a freakish whim, if you like--on the part of its creator, though not the less interesting on that account. [Illustration]