In pursuance of the main idea, the movements of the dancers--or perhaps one should say the impersonators, for of dancing, in the ordinary meaning of the word, there is none--take place all in one plane, their figures are seen in profile, and when they move they do so with sidelong action, so as to preserve the semblance of flatness. Except for the mound upon which the faun is discovered and to which he returns at the close of the episode, the scene consists merely of a backcloth designed by Bakst--a riot of colour which however effective in itself as a piece of pure decoration, is scarcely suited to the peculiar exigencies of the moment. More successful is the outward characterisation of the faun, for which the same designer is responsible. The creature’s lithe young body is mottled with large blotches, dark red in colour, that alternate in bizarre contrast with the fairness of the rest of his skin. A knitted, wrinkled brow, beneath small horns that are curled round the top of his head, suggests a dubious quality of mind--the perplexity of a brain that hovers indeterminately betwixt mere instinct and a reasoning intelligence. The suggestion of character thus subtly conveyed is wonderfully sustained by Nijinsky. By look, by poise and carriage of his body, rather than by gesture (of which there is practically nought) he induces a perception of the vague stirrings of a brutish mind, groping vainly for a realisation of emotions dimly felt. When the curtain rises the faun is discovered recumbent upon the top of a low eminence. The latter merely projects sufficiently in front of the backcloth to form a ledge, and does not detract from the flatness of the scene. One sees the creature sharply in profile, with head thrown back, playing idly on a long pipe. A bunch of grapes lies beside him, and between this and his woodland music he divides his attention. When he turns from one to the other his movements are quickly executed, so that a sharp profile is almost continuously presented to the spectator. While the faun is thus engaged, there appears upon the scene below him three nymphs, advancing slowly with sideways gait, knees slightly bent, heads turned in profile, open palms upraised to shoulders. To them enters a fourth running swiftly, but in the same sidelong manner, and preserving the same stilted attitude as she moves. Another party of three is added, and the whole group of seven stand rigidly posed below, and a short distance from, the faun’s elevated retreat. They are garbed in flowing draperies, with hair dressed close and tightly bound with fillets, and as they stand stiffly, angularly posed, in an immobile row, they seem like figures detached from an antique bas relief and propped before the footlights.