Authors: Danielle Steel
Tags: #Historical, #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Soviet Union, #Russian Americans, #Sagas, #Grandmothers, #General
Danina was in tears when she went to bed that night, and again several times the following day, and finally at the end of the second day, exhausted beyond anything she had ever known, she sat down and wrote Nikolai a letter, telling him what she was going through and how much she missed him. More than she had ever thought possible when she left him.
The torture they put her through went on for days, and by the end of the first week, Danina was sorry she had ever returned to the ballet, particularly if she was leaving. What was the point, and what did she have to prove to them now, if she was going to return to Nikolai and stop dancing? But she felt she owed it to them to finish honorably, and even if it killed her, she was determined to do so. But at that point, dying from sheer exhaustion and endless pain seemed not only desirable, but likely.
It was at the end of the second week that Madame Markova called her into her office, and Danina wondered what it meant. In the past thirteen years, she had rarely been there, though others had been, and always emerged in tears, sometimes to leave the ballet within hours. Danina couldn't help wondering if this was to be her fate now. Madame Markova sat very still across the desk from her, and stared hard at her protegee before speaking.
“I can see what has happened to you, from the way you dance, from the way you are working. You don't need to tell me anything, Danina, if you do not choose to.” Danina had been planning to tell her everything, but not like this, not yet, not until she heard from Nikolai, and so far she hadn't, and she was worried about it. And at times, Madame Markova was right, her love for Nikolai was distracting her from dancing. She couldn't completely give her all to her dancing, as she once had. It was more something spiritual than something physical that had happened. But it amazed her that Madame Markova could see it.
“I'm not sure what you mean, Madame. I have been working very hard since I got back.” There were tears in her eyes as she spoke, she was not used to being reprimanded, or having her work belittled by her mentor. Madame Markova had always been so proud of her, and now it was obvious that she wasn't. The mistress of the ballet was furious with her.
“You have been working hard. But not hard enough. You are working without soul, without spirit. I have always told you that unless you are willing to give it every ounce of blood and soul and love and heart you have, you will be nothing. Don't bother dancing. Sell flowers on the street, clean toilets somewhere, you will be more useful. Nothing is worse than a dancer who gives nothing.”
“I am trying, Madame. I was away for a long time. I'm not yet as strong as I was.” The tears flowed down her cheeks as she said it, but Madame Markova showed no emotion other than disdain and anger. She looked as though she felt she had been cheated by Danina.
“It is your heart I am talking about. Your soul. Not your legs. Your legs will come back. Your heart will not, if you have left it somewhere else. You must make a choice, Danina. It is always a choice here. Unless you want to be like the others. You never were. You were different. You cannot have both. You cannot have a man, or men, and be a truly great prima. And no man is worth your career … no man is worth the ballet. In the end, they will always disappoint you. Just as you are disappointing me now, and cheating yourself. You have come back to me with nothing. You are a shell, a nobody, a little dancer in the corps de ballet. You are no longer a prima.” It was the crudest blow of all and almost broke Danina's heart to hear it.
“That's not true. I still have what I did before, I just need to work harder.”
“You have forgotten how to. You do not care anymore. Something has come into your life that you love more than ballet. I can see it, I can smell it. Your dancing is pathetic.” Just listening to her made Danina's skin crawl, and as she looked into the other woman's eyes, she knew that she had no secrets from her. “It's a man, isn't it? Who did you fall in love with? What man is worth this? Does he even want you? You are a fool if you sacrifice everything for him.”
There was a long moment of silence between them, while Danina weighed her words and how much to tell her. “He is a very good person,” she said finally, “and we love each other.”
“You are a whore now, like the others, the little cheap ones who dance and play, and to whom it means nothing. You should be dancing on the streets in Paris, not here at the Maryinsky. You don't belong here. I always told you, you cannot be like them if you truly want this. You must choose, Danina.”
“I can't give up my whole life forever, Madame, no matter how much I love dancing. I want to do the right thing, I want to be great, I want to be fair to you … but I also love him.”
“Then you should leave now. Don't waste my time, or that of your teachers. No one wants you here unless you are what you were before. Nothing less is worth it. You must choose, Danina. And if you choose him, you will be making the wrong decision. I guarantee it. He will never give you what we do. You will never feel about yourself as you do on the stage, knowing you have given a performance that no one will ever forget. That's who you were when you left here. Now you're nothing more than a little dancer.”
She couldn't believe what she was hearing, except that the words were familiar. She had heard Madame Markova's point of view before. To her it was a sacred religion one sacrificed one's life for. She had, and she expected everyone else to do it. And Danina always had, but now she couldn't. She wanted her life to be more than just the perfect performance.
“Who is this man?” she asked finally. “Does it even matter?”
“It matters to me, Madame,” Danina said respectfully, still believing she could do both, finish well and honorably here, and go to Nikolai when he was ready for her.
“What does he want to do with you?”
“Marry me,” Danina said in a whisper, as Madame Markova looked disgusted.
“Then why are you here?” It was too complicated to explain and she really didn't want to.
“I wanted to finish properly with you, maybe even for the next year, if you want me, if I work hard enough and improve again.”
“Why bother?” And then her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she proved once again to Danina that she was as all-knowing as Danina had always thought her. “Is he already married?”
Again, another long silence between them as Danina did not answer.
“You're a bigger fool than I ever thought you. Worse than one of those little whores. Most of them get husbands at least, and fat, and babies. They are worth nothing. You are wasting your talent on a man who already has a wife. It makes me sick to think of what you are doing, and I don't want to know anything more about it. I want you to work now, Danina, as you used to, as you're capable of, as you owe me, and in two months, I want you to tell me that it is over, and you know that this is your life, and always will be. You must sacrifice everything for it, Danina … everything … and only then is it worth it, only then will you know true love. This is your love, your only love. This man is nonsense. He means nothing to you. He will only hurt you. I want to hear nothing more about this. Go back to work now,” she said, with a wave of dismissal that was so direct and so uncompromising that Danina immediately left her office and went back to class, trembling from what Madame Markova had said to her.
That was the kind of sacrifice she expected, she wanted her to give up everything, even Nikolai, and Danina couldn't. She didn't want to. She didn't owe them that. They had no right to expect it of her. She didn't want to be one of the insane zealots who had no life other than the ballet. She could see that now. She didn't want to be Madame Markova when she was sixty, and have no other life, no children, no husband, no memories, except performances that strung out over the years, and eventually meant nothing.
She had tried to explain it to Nikolai, to tell him what they expected of her, and he hadn't believed her. This
was
what they wanted. Her soul, and her promise that she would end it with him. But she would not do that now, no matter what it cost her. And her anger over it made her work even harder, in class, and at the barre. She began warming up at four o'clock every morning, and stayed until ten o'clock at night, working after classes. She never ate, never stopped, never slept, never did anything but drive her body beyond its utmost limits. It was what they wanted of her, and she looked thin and drawn and exhausted two weeks later when Madame Markova called her into her office once again.
Danina couldn't imagine what she was going to say to her now. Perhaps ask her to leave that morning, but perhaps that would be a relief. She couldn't drive herself any harder, and she hadn't heard a word from Nikolai in three weeks now, and it was driving her insane. He had answered none of her letters, but suddenly she wondered if they had even been mailed. She had left them in the front hall, as she always did, with the others. But perhaps they were being singled out now for the garbage. She was wondering about it as she went to Madame Markova's office, and gave a huge start when she saw him sitting there. It was Nikolai, and he seemed to be having a pleasant conversation with Madame Markova. And when Danina entered the room, he turned to her and smiled. Just seeing him there, she felt her heart pound, and her legs go weak.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, with a look of amazement. She wondered if he had been telling the whole story to Madame Markova, but she understood instantly from the look in his eyes that he hadn't given away their secret. He understood that much, and he was quick to explain his presence to her, or the pretext he had come on, so Danina herself wouldn't make a mistake in what she said in front of Madame Markova.
“I came to see how you are doing, Miss Petros-kova, by order of the Czar himself. He wished to be reassured as to your health, since no one has heard anything from you since you left us. The Czarina was particularly worried.” He said it with a warm smile at Madame Markova, who had the grace to look a trifle awkward, and briefly turned away.
“Have you not gotten my letters? Have none of you?” Danina looked horrified as he shook his head. “I have been leaving them to be mailed, as I always do. Perhaps they're not mailing my letters.” Madame Markova was staring at her desk and said nothing.
“And your health then? You look quite pale, and much thinner than when you left us. I fear you've been working too hard, Danina. Have you? You must not overdo it so soon after being so ill.”
“She must retrain her body,” Madame Markova said sharply, “and learn discipline again. Her body has forgotten nearly everything she knew.” Danina knew as well as her mentor did that that wasn't true. But Nikolai looked worried.
“I'm sure she'll find her old strength again very soon,” he said pleasantly, “but she still must not overdo it. I'm sure you're aware of that, Madame Markova,” he said with a smile, looking very official and deeply concerned. “And now, may I spend a moment with my patient? I have a private message for her from the Czar and Czarina.” It was impossible to argue with that, and despite a look of vast displeasure from Madame Markova, Nikolai and Danina were allowed to leave her office together. It was obvious that she was suspicious of him, but she was not entirely certain he was at the root of Danina's betrayal either, and she did not dare accuse him of it. Instead, she let them go quietly, and Danina led him downstairs to the small garden. It was still cool outside, and she put a shawl around her shoulders, over her leotard. He was worried to see her looking so thin and tired, and he longed to put his arms around her and hold her.
“Are you all right?” he whispered as they sat alone in the small garden. “I miss you … and I was so worried when I didn't hear from you.”
“They must be throwing away my letters. I'll mail them myself from now on,” though God only knew when they would give her enough free time to do it. “What has happened?” she asked, looking worried, but still smiling at him. She was so happy to see him. “Are you all right, Nikolai?”
“Of course … Danina, I love you….” He looked anguished as he said it. The pain of her absence had been almost more than he could bear.
“I love you too,” she whispered, as their hands clasped tightly, and unseen by them, from an upstairs window, Madame Markova was watching them, but she could not hear what they said. But she saw the two hands tightly clenched, which confirmed her suspicions. Her mouth was set in a thin, angry line of contempt and determination. “Have you told Marie yet?”
His brows knit before he answered, and he nodded. “A few days after you left.” But he didn't look pleased with the outcome. Danina could see that at once, and she frowned as she listened.
“What did she say?” It had been a ghastly exchange, and a raging battle ever since then. But he had no intention of losing this one.
“You will never believe it, Danina. She does not want to go back to England. She wants to stay in Russia. After fifteen years of threatening to leave, and telling me how much she hates it here, she will not leave now, when I am offering to free her.” Danina looked vastly disappointed by what he told her, and had to fight back tears as she listened.
“And the divorce?”
“She does not want it. She sees no reason why we should leave each other. She admits that she's as unhappy as I am, but she says she doesn't care about happiness in marriage anymore. She says she does not want the humiliation of a divorce. And if we live together now, you and I, I cannot marry you, Danina.” He looked devastated by what he told her. He had wanted to give her everything, a home, respectability, security, children, a whole new life. But all he could offer her now was to be his mistress. It was she who would be humiliated now, and not his wife.
“Does anyone know about us? The Czar?” Danina asked, looking worried.
“I think he suspects about us, but I don't think he disapproves. He genuinely likes you, and has made a point of saying so to me more than once.”
“Don't worry about all this,” Danina said with a sigh. “It will work out in time. I must finish here anyway. They are very unhappy with me for staying away for so long, and Madame Markova is threatening to put me in the corps de ballet, and no longer allow me to dance as a prima. She says I no longer dance as I did before. I would like to come back to where I was when I left, and that will give you time to convince Marie to listen to reason. We can be patient.” She tried valiantly to sound calmer than she was, about her life in the ballet, and about him.