The Last Dance A

It was the end of WW II and the rolling Russian troops had invaded Poland.

One group had chosen an isolated village in the South of Poland as their camp site for that night. One that would never be forgotten by any of them. Those that were there would tell of their experience to their children and their grandchildren.

After erecting their tents and taking care of their equipment and their horses, they made a huge fire in the spacious grounds of a large mansion. As they sat and warmed themselves and ate whatever food that they found, they began to sing while two of them played balalaikas. Some of them began to dance but they were far too exhausted to keep this up for long.

Out of the darkness came an older man, in his sixties. He walked to the middle of an open space between the soldiers and the fire. The flames lit his face and body dramatically thereby lending an colourful atmosphere to the scene.
The soldiers looked at him for a while and then began to pepper him with questions.
"Hey old man have you come to visit us?" "Want some soldier's food, comrade?" "Do you speak Russian?" "Have you come to see some good Russian dancing?"

The man was silent. In fact he never uttered a single word all evening. He did not look at the soldiers but looked down at his feet, up at the stars and then began to do movements. He stretched his arms forward, upwards and sideways.
Then he did knee bends and touched his toes. He stretched to the left and then to the right...and then he began to dance.

Immediately all sounds stopped and not a morsel of food was lifted to a mouth.
All eyes were on the old man and his dancing. He was obviously no longer in his prime and it was sensed by all that what they were seeing was just the hint of this man had once been capable of.

He pirouetted, did arabesques and entrechats, he knelt, leapt through the air and at one stage, for a brief moment only, lay with his back near to the the ground supported only by his hands while his legs did curling swinging movements below his body. As he did this each spectator drew in their breaths. That was their equivalent of a mighty acclaim.

He did all this with an aristocratic grace and a vibrant power that told each soldier present that he was in the presence of a giant.

Then the man, still silent, turned away and walked back into the house. While the soldiers stared at him an elderly woman come out of the house and walk up to them. She spoke Russian with a voice that crackled but bore traces of great pride.

"Soldiers. You who have come here uninvited have seen a miracle. Perhaps it was because you are Russian. You've just seen the greatest ballet dancer that ever lived. Yes he was a Russian but he became famous in Paris. Vaslav Nijinsky. Have you heard of him?  He came here 20 years ago a man so dejected that he lost his ability or even his desire to speak. While here, he never danced a step until tonight.

What does anyone of you know? Do you know that he danced with the great Anna Pawlova? It was he that did the most famous leap ever seen on a stage. Yesss...he leaped through the bedroom window of the same Anna Pawlova and landed on the other side of the room. That was in Le Spectre de la Rose.
I thought that you should know this."
As she said that, she turned around and walked back into the house. A silence settled over the troops and they only moved again when the commander ordered them to retire.

The next morning the troops rose early but before they marched off to the East, they gathered in front of the house. They sang songs from the homeland. Songs from the Steppes and from the Volga.

Nijinsky was one of them A legend born in Russia. Their songs were a final tribute. Vaslav Nijinsky died in his sleep a week later. He had given his last performance.